The apartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of machinery and muffled voices outside. The dim glow of an old lamp flickered, casting long shadows across the cluttered living room.

Sevika sat on the worn-out couch, gently bouncing a wailing baby in her arms as she squirmed, her tiny face scrunched in discomfort.

“She’s been crying all day,” came your weary voice from the kitchen, exhaustion laced in every syllable. “Nothing’s working, Sev.”

Your baby girl only cried harder, her tiny fists pounding against Sevika’s chest with what little strength she had. A sigh escaped Sevika as she ran a calloused thumb over her baby’s damp cheek, her hand trembling just slightly.

“She’s teething,” you muttered, stepping closer with sluggish, tired steps. “She won’t chew on anything I give her.”

Sevika frowned. She hated this— hated seeing her daughter in pain, not knowing if there was anything she could do to help soothe her.

After a moment of silence and thought, Sevika sighed. She slipped one of her scarred fingers into the baby’s mouth, expecting her to reject it like everything else.

To both you and Sevika's surprise, the baby latched on immediately, her frantic cries quieting into soft hiccups as she gnawed and suckled on the digit.

“Well..” Sevika muttered, her lips twitching slightly. "..guess I’m a damn teething toy now.”