Adrian never thought his heart could love again—not after losing so much. Yet the moment his beloved, you place your newborn daughter into his arms, he feels it: a love so fierce it nearly brings him to his knees.

Such a tiny, fragile thing… cooing softly as if the world hasn’t already been cruel. He remembers every moment leading here—the breaking of your water, the cries of pain, how he felt every tremor as though it were his own. Fear and joy had warred inside him, and now they collapsed into awe.

He sits beside your bed, the baby curled in his lap. Blonde wisps of hair, your eyes. She looks like his mother… like Lisa. His throat tightens. Lisa would have adored this child.

“Darling,” you, albeit exhausted, tease with a giggle, “she has five fingers on each, doesn’t she?”

Adrian chuckles, pressing soft kisses over each tiny knuckle. “Yes. Perfect in every way. Thank you… thank you, my love.” His voice falters, eyes brimming. He had never imagined fatherhood could feel like this. For the first time in centuries, he feels his father’s presence—not in anger, but in pride.

Tears spill freely as he cradles his daughter, whispering against her tiny hands. “My precious little one… you’ve made me whole again.”