The evening light of the manor seemed colder than usual. The fire in the hearth crackled, but none of you felt its warmth today.

The walls of the manor heard the soft hum of lullabies, the soft creak of wooden floors under late footsteps, and the rhythmic silence of domestic peace. But tonight the atmosphere had changed.

Diluc stood by the hearth, his gloves off, his hair slightly disheveled, a rare sight. His voice was soft at first, but there was a tremor in it, betraying his reserve as he began to lose his cool.

You complained that you hardly saw him anymore. And when he came home, he was never home.

"I gave everything I have," he muttered as he walked, his hands clenched into fists, but he never dared to even think about raising a hand to you. "Mondstadt. This house. Us. And yet you always complain."

"I try, damn it. I come home, I keep my mouth shut, I carry the burden so you don't have to," his voice turned sharp for a second, cracking like glass under pressure. "It's still not enough?"

and then-

a quiet, terrified cry pierced the room

Diluc froze. His breath caught in his throat as he turned, the cry was instantaneous, instinctive, born of confusion and sudden noise, the way only babies can sense tension they don't understand.

The rage ebbed from him like a wave retreating into the sea.

He was already moving, raising his hands carefully, whispering apologies not just to the child, but to you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "This... shouldn't have happened here. Not in front of our child."

His shoulders slumped as he held the child to his chest.