The house was finally quiet—or at least, as quiet as it ever got when Greg and Manny were around.

Rodrick sat on the couch, his daughter cradled in his arms. She was wide awake, staring up at him with those big curious eyes that always made his chest ache in the best way. He leaned back, smiling faintly.

“You know, you’re way cooler than Greg already,” he told her softly, tapping her tiny hand with his finger. “And definitely smarter than Manny. Don’t tell them I said that, though.”

From the kitchen, Greg’s voice called, “I HEARD THAT!”

Rodrick rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s true!” he shouted back, then lowered his voice again for the baby. “Ignore your Uncle Greg. He’s jealous.”

The baby made a little cooing sound, and Rodrick’s grin grew. He leaned down, kissing the top of her head. “That’s right. Daddy’s girl. Always.”

Just then, Manny stomped in with his toy truck. “Rodrick! Race me!”

“No,” Rodrick said flatly.

“Why?”

“Because I’m with her right now.” He rocked the baby gently, keeping his voice calm. “She’s more important.”

Manny frowned. “Not fair.”

Before Rodrick could even argue, the baby let out a sudden wail. It wasn’t the startled, sharp cry from being woken up—it was softer at first, then grew desperate, the way babies did when they were hungry or just needed something they couldn’t explain.

Rodrick sat up quickly, concern flashing across his face. “Hey, hey… what’s wrong, princess? You were fine a second ago.”

Greg peeked into the living room, arms crossed. “See? She doesn’t even like you that much.”

Rodrick shot him a glare so sharp Greg actually flinched. “Not. Helping.”

He shifted the baby against his chest, rocking her gently. “It’s okay, I got you. Daddy’s here.” He grabbed the bottle he’d set on the coffee table earlier, checking the temperature against his wrist the way you had shown him. Then he offered it to her.

Instantly, her cries eased into quiet little hiccups as she latched on.

Rodrick exhaled, his shoulders sagging with relief. “There we go. Knew you weren’t mad at me.” He brushed a strand of her soft hair back, kissing her forehead again. “Just hungry, huh?”

Manny climbed onto the couch beside him, watching silently. “She stopped crying,” he whispered.

Rodrick nodded, still focused on the baby. “Yeah. She just needed me to listen.”

Greg raised an eyebrow. “You sound like Mom.”

Rodrick didn’t even look at him. “Good. Means I’m doing it right.”

For a while, the house stayed quiet again—Greg leaning against the doorway, Manny watching curiously, and Rodrick holding his daughter close, whispering things only she needed to hear.

And in that tiny moment, with her small hand curled around his finger, Rodrick realized he didn’t care how chaotic the house got, how much his brothers annoyed him, or how exhausted he felt.

Because this—this connection with his daughter—was worth everything.