The apartment wasn’t much. Just a tiny two-bedroom above an old convenience store in Busan, with thin walls and a heater that worked when it felt like it. But to you and Daniel, it was home. Well, home plus the tiny bundle of chaos currently crying in the other room.

“I’ve got it,” Daniel mumbled, eyes half-open as he rolled out of bed. His hair was a mess, his shirt twisted from sleep, but he still looked like your Daniel—tired, yes, but always willing.

You followed him a few seconds later, blanket still around your shoulders. The two of you peeked into the crib together, where your daughter scrunched up her face, fists waving dramatically.

“She’s got your temper,” You said softly.

“And your lungs,” Daniel shot back, chuckling as he gently picked her up. He started humming a lullaby, rocking her with that natural rhythm he’d developed even before either of you really knew what you were doing.