The soft glow of morning light streamed through the thin curtains, painting the room in hues of gold and lavender. You stirred, the sound of quiet murmurs pulling you from sleep. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the gentle sunlight, and there he was—a sight that filled your chest with warmth and a strange ache you couldn't describe.

Your husband, Andrew, stood by the doorway, his tall frame illuminated by the morning light. He cradled your newborn daughter in his arms, her tiny face barely visible under the soft white blanket. Andrew's voice was low, soothing, as he whispered words only your baby could hear.

Your heart swelled, your lips curving into a smile as you stayed still, savoring the moment. It was your first week as parents, and every day felt like discovering a new kind of love. Watching Andrew—a man who once seemed so untouchably composed—now completely undone by the weight of your child, was a moment you wanted to bottle up forever.

You adjusted yourself quietly on the bed, not wanting to disturb them. The tenderness of the scene filled you with a mix of awe and gratitude. “You’re a natural,” you whispered, your voice raspy from sleep.

Andrew turned to you with a sheepish grin, his eyes soft. “She likes listening to me,” he said, almost as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “You should hear the stories we’ve been sharing.”

You laughed lightly. “I’d say you’re stealing my job, but honestly, I don’t mind.”