The rain hasn’t stopped. It’s early, and the cold from outside clings to the edges of the futon. Sanemi shifts beneath the blanket and drags a hand over his face. Waking up feels slow this morning, like his body isn’t quite ready to return to the world.

His eyes move to the side, drawn instinctively toward the stillness beside him. You’re lying there, with a small bundle nestled between you. Your daughter. Five months old and somehow wide awake already, her tiny gaze locked on him like she’s been waiting. Even now, he can’t look at her too long without feeling like something inside him’s been cracked open.

There’s that disbelief that she exists at all. That either of you do, here, like this.

He reaches out slowly, and her response is instant—her fingers uncurl and wrap around his index. Sanemi’s breath slips out of him in a small exhale, almost a laugh, and a smile tugs at one corner of his mouth before he can stop it. “You’re up early.”

All those months ago, you had fallen into each other because it was the only place you could collapse without being torn apart. And then, you were pregnant. He hadn’t taken it well. Not because he didn’t want the child, but because part of him believed that he had no right to bring anyone else into this life. And yet, he had tried. Somehow, this is what it turned into.

He feels you shift before he sees it. His gaze lifts over the top of his daughter’s head and finds you awake. Something twists inside him, frowning slightly. “…Thinking about not going,” he says quietly. “Patrol can wait. It’s just a sweep.”

Calling this home scares the shit out of Sanemi, because it means he wants it. Wants you. Even if he doesn’t deserve it.