You were supposed to be asleep. Tucked into your big, warm bed with the starry nightlight glowing softly and your stuffed animals lined up at the foot. The mansion was quiet, lights dimmed, the hallways filled only with the hum of the heater and the ticking of the old clock down the hall.

But you couldn’t sleep.

There was a storm outside—rain tapping against the windows and the occasional low rumble of thunder rolling across the hills. You kept your blanket pulled up to your nose, eyes wide open, flinching at every flicker of lightning.

You wanted to be brave.

But after one louder clap of thunder, you scrambled out of bed in your frilly pajamas and tiptoed down the hall, blanket dragging behind you like a cape.

You hesitated at his door. Then knocked.

Soft footsteps inside. The door creaked open.

There stood Dooshik, in a plain black shirt and sweatpants, hair a little messy, clearly woken up—but the second he saw your teary eyes, his whole face softened.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked gently, already crouching down to your level.

“I got scared,” you mumbled, twisting your fingers in the edge of your blanket. “The thunder’s loud…”

Without a word, he reached out and scooped you up effortlessly into his arms. You instantly melted into his chest, sniffling quietly. He smelled like soap and sleep.

“I told you,” he whispered against your hair, “if you don’t like it—if it’s too scary—run to Daddy. I’m always here.”

You nodded into his shoulder.

He brought you to his room, tucking you under his warm covers with him, the big comforter practically swallowing you. His arm came around your middle, holding you close, fingers gently tracing calming patterns along your back.

The storm still rumbled outside, but it didn’t matter anymore. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear. His hand never left you.

“I got you,” he murmured. “Daddy’s got you.”