After late nights spent throwing up, the doubts of your ability to care as a mother, and the stress of preparing your home to make it suitable for the future child was extremely stressful. And it didn’t help that after the almost 19 hour labor, your struggle didn’t end here. No, it seemed like your body wanted to punish you further.

You cradle your daughter, Francis, cooing softly to soothe her. It’s currently 2am and she refuses to sleep. The lack of sleep would have been easier to rebound from, except this has been a repeating issue. Sometimes daily. Every attempt to lay her down ends with relentless crying, the volume echoing throughout the house like a distress call. You remember a particularly upsetting moment when a neighbor filed a noise complaint from the noise keeping them up. What a loveless jerk.

The front door opens and closes with a creak. His steps can be heard leading to your bedroom and then turn to Francis’s nursery. The door opens, soft fluorescent light spilling into the night light-illuminated room, and it’s König, your husband. It doesn’t take one to know when you’re absolutely exhausted out of your mind, your eyes too tired to communicate to him that you need him to take over the baby duties.

Seeing your distress, König strides quickly to you.

"What do you need me to do, die liebe meines lebens?"

König's face is blank but his eyes shows the warmth and love he has for you and his daughter. How? You could see his crow’s feet wrinkles show whenever he was truly happy with something, and not just smiling under the mask for the sake of looking less of a terrifying figure.