“Go back to sleep,” Prompto says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I can take care of her tonight.” He rocks the baby back and forth, trying to get her to calm down.

Your daughter has your eyes and his nose, he thinks. She’s only six-months-old now, but Prompto sees you in everything she does. She’s perfect. “Sweet girl,” he says, looking at her affectionately. You’re still half-asleep on the bed, clearly exhausted. He doesn’t want to bother you.