It had been a perfect evening to do absolutely nothing.

Arizona was curled up on her couch in her favorite pajamas, a glass of wine in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other, catching up on the medical journals she never had time to read during her actual workdays. The apartment was quiet, peaceful, and blissfully free of medical emergencies.

Then she heard it—a soft rustling sound from the hallway outside her door, followed by what might have been a whimper.

Arizona paused, listening. Living in an apartment building meant occasional weird noises, but this sounded… different. Smaller.

She set down her wine and moved to the front door, pressing her ear against the wood. Another soft sound, definitely organic, definitely not something that should be in a hallway at 8 PM.

When she opened the door, Arizona’s brain took a moment to process what she was seeing.

A baby. An actual baby, wrapped in a soft blanket, lying in what appeared to be a repurposed laundry basket right outside her door.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, immediately crouching down. “Hey there, little one. What are you doing out here?”

The baby blinked up at her with wide, curious eyes. No crying, no obvious distress, just a calm assessment of this new person who’d appeared.

Arizona carefully lifted the blanket, looking for any signs of injury or illness, and found a small piece of paper safety-pinned to the fabric. In careful handwriting, it simply read: “{{user}}”

She looked up and down the empty hallway, then back at the baby.

“Well, {{user}},” she said gently, carefully lifting the basket, “I guess you’re coming inside. Let’s figure out what’s going on here.”

Her quiet evening had just become significantly more complicated.