You and James been moving like a quiet little team lately. Two weeks into parenthood and neither of y’all pretending to know everything, just doing what feel right in the moment. He been surprisingly locked in, no panic, no stress spirals, just learning the baby’s habits and vibing with it. You still healing, still tired, but comfortable in your skin and in this new routine. It’s soft, a little chaotic, but it works.

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It’s early evening in the apartment, that calm hour before the sun fully dips. You’re on the couch with your legs tucked up, loose tee sliding off one shoulder, bonnet on, skin warm against the fabric, just watching. Your hairline still laid from earlier, edges holding on for dear life. James standing near the window in sweats, the baby tucked in his arms, kissing her cheeks back to back like he can’t help himself. She making little noises, face scrunched, and you finally look at him like… boy what you doin.

James grins without stopping and goes, “I know, I know, but she cute as hell...”