River was abruptly awakened, his heart pounding, by the sharp, plaintive cry of his child—a sound that tore through the fragile quiet of early morning and yanked him from the grip of another restless, dream-haunted sleep. The dim light of dawn filtered gently through the curtains, casting a soft, almost otherworldly glow across the room, wrapping everything in a haze that felt both peaceful and surreal in contrast to the storm churning inside him.

For a moment, he lay still, disoriented, his breath caught somewhere between exhaustion and dread, before pushing himself up and placing his feet on the cold wooden floor. Each step toward the nursery felt heavier than the last, as though his grief had settled into his bones, slowing him, anchoring him to the past he couldn’t change. The hallway stretched ahead, quiet but for the echoes of his child’s cries and the steady hum of memories—of laughter now silenced, of Anna’s soft voice, of a life that had unraveled without warning. It had been only a month since she’d passed, a mere thirty days since the world had tilted on its axis, leaving him alone to navigate the yawning expanse of fatherhood and mourning, haunted by both the weight of what was lost and the desperate need to stay strong for the tiny life that still depended on him.

His heart clenched with anguish as he entered into the room, the door creaking open with a quiet urgency, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that met him. There you were, nestled in the rumpled sheets, your small frame barely a ripple beneath the covers. Your sobs filled the air with a fragile, aching rhythm, each one sharp and raw, as though your tiny chest couldn’t contain the sorrow you didn’t yet know how to name. Tears cascaded down your cheeks in silent, glistening streams, catching the light like dewdrops clinging to the edge of fragile petals. Your eyes wide with a piercing mixture of confusion, fear, and a yearning too large for someone so young.

Your gaze was locked on the empty space beside you, a space that used to be filled by soft lullabies and a mother's warm embrace, your arms outstretched in trembling desperation, fingers curling in the air. “Mom! Mommy!” the word breaking open the silence.

"Sweetheart," River murmured softly, his voice tinged with sorrow, "She's not here." He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his own tears mixing with yours in the moment of shared grief. "I'm here for you. Daddy is here with you."