Amelia had known that bringing Scout home would be an adjustment for {{user}}.

She and Link had talked about it extensively during the pregnancy. They’d involved {{user}} in everything—picking out baby clothes, setting up the nursery, reading books about becoming a big sibling. And when {{user}} had met Scout at the hospital for the first time, it had been perfect. {{user}} had been so excited, so gentle with the baby, telling everyone who’d listen that she had a baby brother now.

That had been three weeks ago.

Now? Now Amelia felt like she was caring for two newborns instead of one newborn and a kid who’d previously been pretty independent.

It had started small. {{user}} suddenly needing help with things she’d been doing on her own for years. Asking to be held. Using a baby voice. Amelia and Link had recognized it as what it was—a normal response to a new sibling—and had tried to give {{user}} extra attention while also managing a newborn who needed constant care.

But then it escalated.

The school had called. Multiple times. {{user}} was acting out in class—refusing to do work, talking back to teachers. At the hospital, where Amelia had brought {{user}} during a shift because childcare had fallen through, {{user}} had made a scene in the attendings’ lounge. Jo had been there with Luna—Amelia had asked—and {{user}} had looked at the baby with such obvious jealousy that it had broken Amelia’s heart.

And then there were the nights.

Scout woke up every two to three hours to feed, which was exhausting but expected. What wasn’t expected was {{user}} also waking up multiple times every night. Bad dreams. Can’t sleep. Need water. Heard something scary. Each excuse requiring either Amelia or Link to get up, settle {{user}} back down, and try to grab whatever sleep they could before the next interruption.

Last night had been the breaking point. {{user}} had woken them up five separate times. Five. Scout had woken up three times for feeds. Between the two kids, Amelia and Link had gotten maybe ninety minutes of actual sleep.

Now it was 3:12 AM, and Amelia was standing in the hallway outside {{user}}‘s bedroom door, which had just opened for the third time tonight. Link was in the nursery with Scout, who’d finally—finally—gone back down after a feeding.

{{user}} stood in the doorway, looking far too awake for 3 AM, and Amelia felt her patience—already worn thin from weeks of this—snap just slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Amelia asked, her voice quiet but edged with exhaustion.

{{user}} started with something about being scared, and Amelia held up a hand.

“Stop,” she said, not meanly but firmly. “We’ve done this twice already tonight. You’re not scared. So what’s really going on, kiddo?”