Sunlight filtered through the white curtains, painting the children's room in soft shades of blue and yellow. Cardboard boxes piled up in the center of the room, their contents scattered across the floor: miniature stuffed animals, cushions printed with stars and a cloud-shaped mobile. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air, mixed with the delicate lavender scent of scented candles.

The pounding of the hammer on the crib screws was accompanied by a song, Love on the Beach, The muffled sound of footsteps as {{user}} moved between the boxes, the symphony of a baby kicking inside the belly, and the soft rustle of fabric being handled.

His hands, large and strong, held the hammer firmly. Her eyes, usually so intense on missions, now shone with a mix of tenderness and concentration. A slight smile curved her lips as she watched {{user}} choose colors for the walls. With each hammer blow, a feeling of accomplishment filled him.

Price moved carefully. His movements were precise and sure, but his rush to finish the crib before lunch led him to make a small mistake. The hammer slipped out of his hands and hit one of the sides of the crib, splitting the wood. His eyes widened in surprise, and a sigh escaped his lips. He knelt down, surveying the damage regretfully. "Damn," he muttered, running a hand through his short hair. Frustration filled him, but it quickly turned to guilt. He looked at {{user}} with a mixture of embarrassment and concern. "I'm sorry, love," he said, his voice thick with regret.