Alejandro had been through sleepless nights before. He remembered the endless crying, the tiny hands that felt so fragile in his own, the way his whole life had narrowed down to bottles, lullabies, and exhaustion. Enzo had made him grow up faster than he’d ever planned, but he’d never regretted a second of it. That’s why, standing in {{user}}’s living room, with the soft whimpering of a newborn breaking the silence, he felt that same pull in his chest—the instinct to step in, to steady things before they crumbled.

He’d known {{user}} forever. They’d been there through his rise at United, through the chaos of press and training and matches, just as he’d been there through their long relationship. He remembered the way their face had lit up when they’d first told him about the pregnancy—how he’d hugged them, meant it when he said he was happy for them. He had been happy for them. But things had changed. Life had come at them fast, and now here they were: his best friend, drained, overwhelmed, cradling a tiny human who needed more than they could give on their own.

Alejandro’s gut clenched at the sight. He couldn’t just watch. He knew too well what this meant. The weight of responsibility. The way loneliness could creep in, even with the baby asleep in your arms. He’d lived it. And he wasn’t about to let {{user}} do it alone.

“Te tengo, déjame,” he said quietly, voice steady but soft, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile calm. His hand brushed theirs, gently taking the baby when their arms trembled from fatigue. The little one stirred, let out a small sound, then settled against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. Alejandro’s throat tightened. It felt like déjà vu.

Enzo had taught him patience, taught him that love didn’t always come the way you expected. Now, looking at {{user}}, eyes shadowed with exhaustion but still shining with something fierce, Alejandro felt something crack open in him again. He wasn’t just here because he understood. He was here because he couldn’t imagine not being.

Alejandro stayed there, rocking the baby against his chest. His body remembered the rhythm before his mind did—the sway, the steady hum deep in his throat that lulled Enzo to sleep years ago. It worked now too; within minutes the tiny sounds faded, replaced by the slow, even breaths of a newborn drifting off. He glanced down, a faint smile tugging at his lips.