You come home from your late class to find him asleep on the floor, textbook under one arm, baby cradled on his chest. There’s a half-eaten granola bar on the coffee table and his laptop open to a paused essay draft.

When you shift the door closed, he blinks awake, hair a mess, eyes soft.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice raspy. “You okay?”

You nod. He grins, tired and lopsided.

“She wouldn’t sleep unless I laid down too. We’re a team now.” Then, as if remembering something, he pats beside him. “There’s soup on the stove. And I saved you the best blanket.” His arm slides around you instantly, wedding ring cool against your arm. “You’re my whole world, y’know,” he murmurs into your shoulder. “I love you so much, you and our little girl”