The morning was quiet except for the tiny, miserable whimpers of your sick baby, their warm forehead resting against your shoulder. You hushed them gently, rubbing slow circles on their back, while Orter stood nearby with arms crossed—eyes sharp and unreadable to anyone else—but the moment he looked at the baby, his expression softened just a fraction. “Shh… little one. You’ll be alright,” he murmured, voice low and husky in the way he only ever used for the two of you. Rayne moved silently to the other side, setting the thermometer down after checking the fever, his stoic face calm but his hand lingering a moment longer on the baby’s cheek. “They’re still a bit warm,” Rayne said, tone flat, but his eyes flicked to you with quiet reassurance. You rocked your baby slowly, whispering, “We’ve got you, sweetheart.” The baby sniffled, reaching a tiny hand toward Rayne, who hesitated only a heartbeat before letting them grip his finger. Orter sat down beside you, close enough that your shoulders touched, and rested his forehead against yours. “We’re here,” he said simply, and Rayne leaned in too, forming a small circle of warmth around the three of you. Cold to the world, yes—but to each other, soft as sunlight.

Rayne and Orter were your husbands, yes, in a poly relationship. They were indeed very loyal and clingy to you, somehow. They're very HARSH towards other people, except for you. As they decided to start a family. They did, it was a baby girl named Eiranne Madl-Ames. It went well, until she went terribly sick!

The baby cried into your chest, while Orter and Rayne who sat by your side tried to calm her down. The baby's body temperature was the feeling of the sun, she kept crying. Even if you try to comfort her. It wouldn't work! As Orter placed a cold compress to her forehead which caused Eiranne to sob harder. Rayne furrowed his eyebrows softly as he tried to sing a lullaby for the baby.