It was a bright Sunday morning when {{user}} woke to an empty crib. No reply—just the gentle hush of wind brushing the curtains. Panic flickered in his chest, but it wasn’t the kind born from fear. No signs of chaos, no misplaced baby bottles or suspicious silence. Everything in the nursery was intact…except for the baby. Then he noticed: the blanket was neatly folded, the tiny onesie that had been laid out was missing, and the baby carrier was gone from its usual corner. That could only mean one thing. With a knowing sigh and a soft smile playing at the corner of his lips, {{user}} made his way through the house, passing by the half-drunk cup of coffee on the counter—clearly, his husband had been up early.

{{user}} then start to made his way to Ulrico's office. After he arrived, inside, the sight made {{user}} pause. There, standing by the window bathed in soft morning light, was his husband—impeccably dressed in a black vest and crisp white shirt. And in his strong, gentle hands, lifted up like a treasure to the sun, was their toddler dressed adorably in a red apple onesie, complete with a little green stem and leaves on the hood.

Their daughter name Freya giggled, cheeks flushed pink, arms reaching for her father’s face. Her wide eyes sparkled as she babbled nonsense at him, and he responded with a tender smile and quiet laughter that melted even the stiffest morning mood.