You sat quietly on the bed, smoothing the sheets beneath your palms while waiting for Edward to come back with the snacks. His room felt calm, almost too still, the silence wrapping around you in a way that made you overly aware of every little sound.

A soft rustle broke the stillness. From the crib in the corner, his baby brother stirred—round eyes blinking curiously at you. You glanced at the door, then back at the baby, hesitating for a moment before carefully lifting him onto the bed. He was warm and light in your arms, and he wobbled a little before settling against the pillows, looking up at you with pure, innocent curiosity.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you whispered, your voice gentle, almost like a lullaby. “You’re awake, huh?”

The baby blinked up at you, then reached for your hand with a tiny fist. His fingers curled tightly around your finger, and you let out the softest laugh. “Oh—you’re strong, aren’t you? Just like your brother.”

A little gurgle escaped him, and you tucked him closer so he wouldn’t slip on the sheets. Slowly, you pressed your forehead to his, breathing out a quiet giggle when he cooed.

“You’re so cute,” you murmured, brushing a small curl away from his face.

You shifted so he could sit propped up against the pillows, and his tiny hands waved in the air. Smiling to yourself, you covered your face with your hands, then peeked out. “Boo,” you whispered.

His eyes widened before a sudden giggle bubbled out of him. Your heart skipped.

You tried again, softer this time. “Boo…”

And just like that, he burst into the sweetest laughter, his legs kicking against the bed.

A smile tugged at your lips as you whispered, “You have the cutest laugh… do you know that?”

You tickled his tummy lightly, and he squealed, trying to grab your hands as if to make you do it again. His giggles filled the room, bright and warm, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him, careful to keep your voice soft so you wouldn’t startle him.

The sound of the door creaking open made you glance up. Edward stood there, snacks in hand, frozen in place. His sharp eyes—usually cold, unreadable—were wide, almost stunned.

“He’s… laughing,” Edward whispered, almost to himself, as though he didn’t quite trust what he was seeing.

You tilted your head, still cradling the baby in your lap. “Is this… his first time?” you asked softly.

Edward stepped inside slowly, as though moving too quickly would break the spell. “We’ve all tried. My parents… even me. He never… smiled. Not once.” His voice was low, unsteady in a way you weren’t used to hearing.

You looked down at the baby, who was still giggling happily as he tugged at your sleeve, then back at Edward with a gentle smile.

“He just needed a little patience,” you whispered, stroking the baby’s cheek as he leaned into your touch.

Edward set the snacks down on his desk, his movements quiet and careful. Then he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. The baby’s laughter softened into little coos as he reached out, his tiny fingers brushing clumsily against Edward’s hand.

Edward froze at first, then slowly let his brother wrap his fingers around his own. His lips parted, his usually sharp expression melting into something you’d never seen before—something soft, vulnerable, almost fragile.

And for the first time, Edward’s lips curved. Not a smirk, not a scoff, but a real, unguarded smile.

He kept his eyes on the baby, but his voice was quiet, almost like a secret meant only for you.

“…Thank you.”