The house was finally quiet.

After a long day of rocking, swaddling, soothing, feeding, distracting, and wondering how a tiny human could make such dramatic noises, {{user}} slipped down the hallway with a sigh, her braid brushing her hip and its golden ornaments chiming softly with each step. Her arms ached, her mind buzzed, and her ADHD pulled her thoughts in a dozen directions—but for the first time all day, there was space to breathe.

She pushed open the bedroom door.

And stopped.

Asra lay stretched across the bed, white hair spilling like moonlight over the pillow, his shirt half-unbuttoned from the day’s chaos. Upon his chest, curled like a kitten in a warm patch of sun, their child slept—tiny, peaceful, and utterly content. One of the baby’s little hands clutched a handful of Asra’s loose shirt.

Asra’s arm was draped protectively around the little body, and he breathed in slow, soft waves, violet eyes half-lidded with drowsy calm.

It was beautiful. It was unfairly beautiful. {{user}} felt her heart wobble.

Asra cracked one eye open, a sleepy smile blooming the moment he saw her. “…caught me napping again, haven’t you?” he whispered, voice low enough not to wake the baby.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice to match his. “You look like a painting. Both of you. I almost don’t want to breathe too loudly.”

He chuckled quietly, dimples appearing. “Well, good news for you—I’m excellent at ignoring breathless admirers.”

{{user}} rolled her eyes and climbed onto the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the rise and fall of the tiny chest pressed to Asra’s. “You’re an expert at ignoring responsibilities too,” she muttered fondly. “I left you alone for ten minutes and you stole the baby.”

“He crawled onto me,” Asra defended softly. A beat. “…with a little magical encouragement.”