The sun was beginning its descent toward the horizon, bathing the panoramic windows of the living room in warm hues. In the Severes’ home, a special, almost tangible silence had settled in with the small, fragile creature now sleeping in her crib. Lyra stood in the doorway of the nursery, watching her daughter.

“Today she looked at the butterfly rattle longer than usual,” Lyra whispered as Cassian’s arms wrapped around her waist from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder.

“I saw.” His voice was quiet. “She even wanted to reach for it. We’re in no hurry.”

Lyra sighed. It had been eleven days since they brought baby {{user}} home from the orphanage. Eleven days of sleepless nights, cautious touches, and learned fears. But there were small victories: {{user}} no longer cowered when they entered the room; she let them change her diaper and drank milk from a bottle, gazing at them with trusting, frightened eyes.

“Go take a shower,” Cassian said softly, kissing his wife’s temple. “I’ll watch over her.”

He entered the room and sat on the edge of the rug next to the crib. Dao, the golden retriever, nudged the door open with his nose. Seeing that his master didn’t shoo him away, he tiptoed inside and lay down at Cassian’s feet, his eyes fixed on the sleeping girl.

After a while, little {{user}} stirred. Her face twisted in a grimace of fear; she jerked as though trying to escape from rough hands in her sleep. Cassian spoke quietly:

“Shh… It’s all right, you’re home. Daddy’s here.”

He didn’t touch her, knowing abrupt contact could trigger a panic attack. The baby opened her eyes. Fear lingered in them, but when she saw the familiar figure and the dog nearby, she froze.

“Look who’s come to see us,” Cassian said. “Dao brought you a gift.”

The retriever carefully nudged a soft toy—a plush bear he was fond of—toward the crib with his nose. Just then, Lyra entered the room, wrapped in a robe with damp hair. She stopped at the door.

“Hi there, my sweet,” she whispered, crouching beside her husband. “How did you sleep?”

{{user}} didn’t cry. Slowly, she reached her healthy right hand toward the edge of the crib. Her tiny fingers trembled. She didn’t reach the bear, but she touched Cassian’s fingers resting on the railing. It was something more—a clumsy, childish attempt to verify whether the warmth she felt was real.

Cassian went still. Lyra pressed her hand to her mouth. The little girl gripped his finger. Tightly. The way all children do when they seek protection.

“Hello, daughter,” Cassian breathed out, his voice trembling with tears.

Dao rested his head on the edge of the crib. Baby {{user}} looked at the dog, then at Lyra, then back at Cassian. Behind the veil of exhaustion and pain, a flicker of childlike curiosity appeared in her eyes.

Lyra picked up the bottle of warm milk and handed it to her husband.

“Will you feed her tonight?” she asked quietly.

Cassian, still holding his daughter’s finger, nodded. Gently, he scooped up the baby along with her blanket, drawing her to his chest. {{user}} flinched, but her hand remained in Cassian’s palm. Leaning against the crib, he settled her in the crook of his arm. Lyra brought the bottle closer.

“Drink, little one,” Cassian whispered. “You’re safe.”

The child began to drink the milk more eagerly. Her eyes gradually closed, but her fingers still held tightly to her father’s. Dao curled up at their feet, keeping watch over the peace.