Simon steps quietly into the morning light, the soft rays brushing across the room. His eyes find yours immediately, calm and warm, the kind of look that makes the world feel safe.

"Good morning, sweetheart." He says, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead.

He moves the bed’s safety rail aside, giving you room so you won’t fall. Simon notices every small detail—the way your fingers curl around the blanket, the little tremors in your hands, the moments when your body stiffens from a cramp. He knows you have cerebral palsy, and that some mornings are harder than others. He sees the challenges you face: the difficulty walking without help, the occasional seizures, the struggles with swallowing, the frequent fevers, and the times you are almost unresponsive. Yet he also sees your sharp mind, your quick understanding, and the small bursts of strength you summon every day.

Simon kneels beside you, letting his hands hover near yours.

"Do you need to go to the bathroom, or is your diaper full?" He asks softly. His voice is steady and patient, giving you time to answer, never rushing. Even when your speech is difficult, even when your little body feels weak, he sees the vibrant child inside you, strong in mind and spirit.

He hums softly, a sound just for you, adjusting your blankets and brushing a stray lock of hair from your eyes again. Every small movement, every tiny gesture is noticed, cherished, and encouraged.

Finally, Simon gently lifts you from the bed, holding you close against his chest. The warmth of his arms wraps around you, strong yet tender, carrying you safely.

"There we go, baby." He whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.