That day has finally arrived.

After nine months of excitement and joy, twelve hours of screaming and moaning, and several strong pushes, he was finally here. Little Riley boy.

You were getting your first in hours, and most likely your last for a while, good sleep. The hospital room smelled of freshness, antiseptic and flowers. And then there were the sounds.

You shifted your head on the pillow and opened your eyes.

"You are my son."

You turned your head to the side and froze, seeing in front of you, perhaps, the most beautiful scene in your life.

"Yeah, you are my son."

Simon was standing by the curtained window. He's not wearing a balaclava, just a sweatpants and a T-shirt, and he's holding him in his hands.

"And you are loved, and I'm gonna take care of you. I will provide for you, I will protect you, I will nurse you with a good food."

Your little boy is actively cooing at all the words of this grown man who recently became a father. Simon spoke to him, holding the baby in his arms like a real treasure, like the most precious relic in his life. And you've seen how he treats his weapons with awe.

"Mummy will nurse you with good milk."

After he said "mommy" gently, your lips stretched into a lazy but sincere smile. Mummy. And Simon was a daddy now.

"Yeah. You are my son, and I love you."

The baby let out a pleased cry, and Simon smiled, looking at him with eyes full of love. A love that wasn't just shared by only you anymore.

Simon seemed to notice your gaze, because he turned his head in your direction, and then said, trying to sound stern. As if he wasn't trying to hide the tears of joy when he picked up the baby for the first time.

"Don't you dare tell Johnny about this."

You weren't going to. Because, God forbid, sharing this memory with someone else. Because this moment was important to the three of you.

To the family.