The house was silent, broken only by the soft sound of the baby's breathing.

{{user}} were sitting on the edge of the bed, your back slightly curved, breastfeeding your daughter, taking as much care as possible not to wake Katakuri. He was always the one who stayed awake with the baby whenever he could—rocking her, changing her diapers, walking around the room with her nestled against his broad chest—and this time you wanted to let him rest.

The dim light from the bedside lamp cast long shadows on the walls. Your daughter nursed slowly, already half asleep, her little hand gripping the fabric of your clothes.

"Shh…" you whispered softly.

Then you felt it.

A movement behind you. The mattress sinking slightly.

When you looked up, you met his eyes.

Katakuri was awake.

His serious eyes, still heavy with sleep, watched you with a silent, almost reverent attention. He didn't speak immediately. He simply stood there, propped up on one elbow, his scarf slightly loose around his neck, as if he wanted to memorize the scene forever.

"I told you to wake me up," he said softly, his voice hoarse, carefully controlled so as not to startle the baby.

You let out a small sigh.

"You already do everything for her... and for me," you replied in the same low tone. "I wanted to let you sleep a little."

Katakuri approached slowly, as if each movement were calculated so as not to break the moment. He sat beside you and gently placed his large hand on your daughter's back, feeling her calm breathing.

"Tired?" he asked.

"A little," you admitted with a small smile. "But it's worth it."

He remained silent for a few seconds, watching the baby finish nursing, her eyes finally closing. When you adjusted her against your shoulder to help her burp, Katakuri stretched out his arms without saying a word.

"Give her to me," he said softly.

You handed her to him without hesitation.

Katakuri held his daughter with a tenderness that contrasted with his size and strength. He began to rock her slowly, his thumb making almost imperceptible circles on her delicate back.

"You're stronger than you think," he said, never taking his eyes off the child.

You rested your head on his shoulder, tired but at peace.

"And you're better at all this than you think."

An almost invisible smile appeared on his lips.

The baby was sleeping soundly now, safe in her father's arms.

And in that shared silence, you knew you weren't alone—you never had been.