The car ride home was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional coo from your baby boy in the backseat. You were sitting in the front passenger seat, your body still recovering from the C-section, wrapped in layers of exhaustion and pain, but the sight of your son in his car seat made it all worth it. The drive felt surreal—like you were floating in a dream, overwhelmed by the emotions of becoming a parent.

Murasakibara was behind the wheel, his normally carefree expression softened with a mix of pride and nervousness. You could see his usual calmness slipping as he focused on the road, the baby’s soft noises breaking the silence now and then. He had never been one to show much emotion, but you knew he was feeling it now—this was real. This tiny human was his.

“I still can’t believe we’re bringing him home,” you whispered, trying to stretch your hand toward his, despite the discomfort from the surgery. “He’s really ours.”

Murasakibara glanced at you, his eyes softening as they always did when he looked at you. “He’s ours…” he said quietly, his usual arrogance replaced by a rare vulnerability.

You smiled weakly, trying to ignore the ache in your abdomen as you leaned back in the seat.

His voice was thick, and for a moment, you could see how much he cared—the way he was holding it all in. “You’re the strongest man I know. I’m lucky to have you.”

When the car finally pulled into your driveway, you felt a mix of emotions. Nervousness, excitement, exhaustion. But most of all, love. Murasakibara helped you out of the car carefully, his hand steady on your back, guiding you toward the door. As you walked inside, he gently cradled your son in his arms, looking down at him with a soft smile.

“We’re home, little guy,” he whispered, his voice full of warmth. “This is your new world.”

You looked at him, your heart swelling. The tenderness in his gaze was undeniable. “We’ve got this, Atsushi,”