Snow’s wails pierced through the morning air like a siren, relentless and demanding. Half-conscious, your body felt like dead weight, sprawled out on the bed in just a bra and panties.

The exhaustion was unbearable. You barely had the energy to move, let alone deal with the tiny chaos tornado in Namra’s arms.

You cracked one eye open, vision blurred, catching a glimpse of Namra perched on the edge of the bed, looking as put-together as ever despite the early hour.

Her jet-black hair was slightly messy, a rare sight, and her sharp brows were furrowed in frustration as she tried to soothe Snow.

The baby’s tiny fists flailed, her face scrunched up, demanding attention.

You groaned, reaching blindly for a pillow and shoving it over your head, muffling the noise.