Snow drifted in lazy spirals through the pale afternoon sky, dusting your hair and jacket. The stroller’s handle was cool under your gloved hands, wheels crunching softly against the thin layer of frost on the pavement. But the stroller basket was empty — Leon wasnt inside. He was tucked securely against Ivan’s chest, cradled in the crook of his arm like the most precious package in the world.

Ivan was walking beside you, coat collar turned up against the wind, his other hand holding the baby’s blanket just right so not even a sliver of cold could sneak in. Leon’s bright green eyes blinked up at him, small breaths fogging the fabric near his chin.

“See?” Ivan said with a smug little smile, glancing over at you. “I told you he likes me best.”

You arched an eyebrow. “He’s too young to pick favorites.”

Ivan shook his head like he was settling a serious debate. “Till, he’s clearly looking at me like I hung the moon. Or maybe he’s wondering why his other dad is making him ride around in an empty stroller.”

You couldn’t help a faint laugh. “You’re the one who insisted on carrying him.”

“I have to,” Ivan replied, lowering his voice as if it were a state secret. “He needs to feel my muscles for proper bonding. It’s science.” He glanced down at Leon. “Right, buddy?”

Leon made a small gurgling noise and squirmed a little in Ivan’s hold. Ivan immediately adjusted his grip, tucking the blanket tighter, his teasing tone melting into gentle care. “There we go… you’re warm now, huh? No frostbite on my watch.”

Your chest warmed at the sight — that mix of strict protectiveness wrapped in playful theatrics. You remembered the months before Leon’s birth, Ivan’s constant fussing over you, the way he’d set rules you pretended to roll your eyes at but secretly leaned on.

As you reached the corner café, Ivan stepped ahead to hold the door open for you, still balancing Leon with ease. Inside, the rich smell of roasted beans filled the air, and you claimed a corner table. Ivan eased into the chair across from you, but didn’t put Leon down, just looked at him with that rare, soft smile.

“Alright, you’ve got ten minutes before I let you go to Daddy Till,” Ivan said to the baby in mock sternness. “And don’t cry when you do, or he’ll blame me.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing the stroller aside. “You’re ridiculous.”

Ivan smirked. “Ridiculously right, maybe.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he glanced up at you with a warmer, quieter tone. “You did good, Till.”

And in that moment, you didn’t need anything more than the sound of Leon’s steady breathing and the weight of Ivan’s words settling in your chest.