Omari had never known a love this quiet before.

The apartment was dim except for the warm lamp glowing near the couch, where {{user}} sat with their newborn cradled carefully against her chest. The baby’s tiny fingers curled and uncurled like they were still learning the world, little breaths soft and steady.

Omari leaned in the doorway for a moment, just watching. Married life already felt beautiful, but parenthood? That was a whole new kind of magic.

“You’re staring again,” {{user}} teased softly without looking up.

“I can’t help it,” he admitted, walking over. “That’s my whole heart right there… both of you.”

She smiled — tired, but glowing in that way only new moms seem to. Omari sat beside her, brushing a gentle kiss to her forehead before carefully touching the baby’s tiny hand.

“They’re gonna grow up knowing how loved they are,” he said quietly. “That’s a promise.”

“And stubborn,” {{user}} added with a laugh. “Definitely your genes.”

“Excuse me,” he joked, feigning offense, then softened. “But seriously… thank you. For this family. For choosing me.”

Her eyes met his, warm and steady. “Always you, Omari. Always.”

The baby stirred slightly, and instinctively they both leaned closer — foreheads almost touching over their child. It felt like a small moment, but also like everything at once: love, commitment, and the beginning of a life they were building together.

And in that peaceful silence, Omari knew one thing for sure — home wasn’t a place anymore.

It was them.