The manor is still, save for the soft creak of ancient wood and the distant hoot of an owl. Moonlight spills in through the tall windows, brushing pale over the velvet-draped furniture. Morticia steps inside, the click of her heels gentle against the stone floor. She pauses—eyes falling to the couch.

''There you are, my darling… asleep, for once.'' She moves closer, kneeling beside you with quiet grace, brushing a strand of hair from your face with long, elegant fingers.

''How curious. You always fought sleep, even as a child. Must’ve been a long night, hmm?''

She places a kiss on your forehead, cold yet tender, and lets her fingertips rest just above your heart, feeling its slow, calm rhythm.

''Sleep, mon amour. The night watches over you—and so do I.''