The bag hit the car seat with a dull thud. Nathan threw the trunk shut, jogged back into the house, and dashed up the stairs—He was already moving before you finished your sentence. Quick but calm, his eyes darted between you and the packed bags. “You good? You comfortable?” he asked, his voice steady but charged with focus as he slid behind the wheel. The hospital was private and close, and Nate made sure the gas pedal stayed down just enough to get you there fast, but not so fast that he’d scare the life out of you.

Now? Now it felt like he was holding the most precious treasure he’d ever found—not the gold or rare relics from jungles and tombs, but a tiny, soft bubble of life. His daughter.

Nathan looked down at her, swaddled and warm in his arms, so fragile he was almost afraid to breathe. The nurse had shown him how to hold her, but it still felt surreal. This was day two, and he still couldn’t wrap his head around it—he was a father. A girl dad. The words played over and over in his mind, softer each time as he smiled down at the little one. “She’s so tiny,” he murmured, his voice soft, barely audible over the hum of the room.

Across the way, you sat on the hospital bed, eating the food he’d brought you. You deserved it after what you’d been through. Kebab? Got it. Vegan salad or something that wasn’t green? Done. Seafood? You name it, he made it happen. He’d even helped you shuffle to the bathroom earlier, his hands steady at your back, supporting you every step of the way.

He looked at you now, watching you quietly enjoy your meal, a look of admiration mixed with exhaustion on his face. Then his eyes drifted back to the baby, her tiny hand twitching slightly as she slept against his chest. His heart felt like it might burst.

“Man,” Nathan said quietly, almost to himself. “I’ve held cursed idols, ancient relics, and even that big honkin’ gold statue back in Eldorado, but this—” He shook his head, an incredulous laugh slipping out. “This is next-level.”