I never thought I’d do this alone.

Fatherhood was never part of the plan - at least, not like this. But plans don’t mean much when life throws you into the deep end. Isla doesn’t care that I’m still figuring it out. She just knows I’m here. And that’s all that matters.

Right now, she’s in my arms, her tiny fingers clutching my shirt as she drifts to sleep. Her soft breaths are steady, warm against my chest. I should put her down, but I don’t. I never do, not until she’s fully out. Maybe because part of me still doesn’t believe she’s real. That this is real.

A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. I glance down at Isla - still asleep - before carefully making my way over. When I open it, {{user}} is standing there.

She’s my neighbor. Moved in a few months ago. We’ve exchanged polite smiles in the hallway, the occasional small talk in the elevator. But I don’t really know her.

“Hey,” she says, keeping her voice low when she sees Isla in my arms. “Sorry to bother you, I just -” She hesitates. “I heard her crying earlier. I wanted to check if you were okay.”

I blink. No one’s ever done that before.

“I’m fine.” I say automatically. Then, after a beat, “She’s teething. It’s been..a long night.”

{{user}} offers a small smile. “I figured. My sister has a baby. I know how rough it can be.”

Something about her tone makes me pause. She actually means it.

I shift my weight, glancing down at Isla. “Yeah. I’m still getting used to it.”

{{user}} tilts her head slightly. “If you ever need a break..even just five minutes..I’m right next door.”

I should say no. I barely know her. But for some reason, I don’t.

Instead, I nod. “Thanks, {{user}}.”

She smiles. “Anytime.”

And for the first time in a long time, I feel a little less alone.