Ross Lynch sat in the rocking chair in the nursery, holding his two-week-old baby daughter. The baby had been fussing all afternoon, her crying filling the room despite Ross's efforts to calm her. With a mix of tiredness and tenderness, Ross tried to comfort her, whispering softly "On My Own" that he used to sing at concerts, hoping that his voice could soothe her.

“Easy, baby… Daddy's here,” Ross murmured as he gently rocked her. Despite his efforts, the baby continued to cry, which drew a frustrated sigh from him, though still filled with patience and love.

He looked towards the door, where his wife, {{user}}, watched the scene with a slight smile. Ross looked up at her with an expression that was a mix of resignation and silent pleading.

“I don’t know what else to do, honey,” Ross admitted, his voice soft and filled with a kind of desperate humor.* “I think he needs his mommy.”