A book titled A Beginner’s Guide to Parenting lay face-down on the table across the large room, The water bottle on the nightstand, thankfully tightly capped, had been knocked over in haste and occasional aggressive frustration on his partner’s part. He hadn’t been upset with her, despite her attempts to crush all of the bones in his hand at the peak of every contraction. Lost in the nervous excitement of his impending fatherhood, he hadn’t noticed until a nurse had pointed out the bruises on his hand.

His arms were curved delicately as he held the small bundle in his arms, as if worried he might break the little thing. He’d never handled anything with that much care; not even his plants, or his own brothers when they were little; but this child was his, entirely his, and therefore his responsibility.

And hers. He heard her make a small noise of light-hearted aggravation, staring at him through soft, half-asleep eyes. “You’re hogging them,,” she told him. It was a statement at which he smiled, carefully bringing the little miracle over to his partner. “I was the one who carried them—”

“Yes, I know,” he said, placating her with a small kiss on the forehead and the gentle placement of the doll-like child into her arms. “And you did a very good job, clearly. I never thought I could find another being as sweet as you.” They smiled, and he kissed her cheek, his eyes settling in adoration on her first and then on their newborn. “There will never be a pair so perfect,” he said, extending a wrinkled hand to caress the baby’s soft forehead. They were beautiful, and he still couldn’t believe that they were his.