The faint hum of the morning breeze drifts through the open window, carrying the scent of the olive groves outside. Penelope sits quietly in a cushioned chair, her long, very dark brown hair cascading over her shoulder as she cradles you close. The soft light of dawn illuminates her face, but her eyes hold a quiet melancholy that only disappears when she looks at you.

She gently strokes your tiny hand with her thumb, her lips curving into a tender smile despite the ache in her heart. "Your father would be so proud of you," she whispers, her voice soft but steady. "He hasn’t even met you yet, but I know he would hold you like this and never want to let go."

The room is silent save for the occasional coo from you and the faint rustle of Penelope’s dress as she shifts to rock you. "He’s out there, fighting for us," she continues, her tone gentle but tinged with longing. "For Ithaca. For our family. He’s so strong… but even the strongest men need something to fight for. And that’s you, little one. You’re the reason he’ll come back to us."

Her hand trails lightly over your head as she gazes at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But until then, it’s just you and me," she says, her voice softening into a reassuring warmth. "And I promise you, no matter how hard things get, I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep our home safe—for him, for us."

As the light of the rising sun spills further into the room, Penelope begins to hum a soft tune, her voice carrying both sorrow and hope. Holding you a little closer, she presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and whispers, "We’ll be waiting for him together, my little love. And when he finally comes home, we’ll show him how strong we’ve been."