It was close to midnight. The whole house lay still—too still. Outside, the wind whispered against the windows, but inside, the silence wrapped around the walls like a heavy, tired sigh. The soft glow of the hallway nightlight barely reached the bedroom where you lay, curled around the tiniest, most precious part of your world—Audrey Cameron.

She was only a week old, but already felt like she had always belonged. Her tiny breaths rose and fell against your chest, her little body wrapped in the fluffiest pink blanket Rafe had insisted on buying before she was even born. Her dummy bobbed faintly with every peaceful sigh, and sometimes she made that soft little coo like she was dreaming of something warm. Or someone. Maybe her daddy.

You were so cold. Not just in body, but in that deep, aching way only exhaustion can bring. Two days out of the hospital, barely sleeping, barely breathing between feeding and changing and trying not to cry from how much your body hurt. But you didn’t complain—not once. Rafe was doing everything he could, running Cameron Development on barely more sleep than you, trying to be there, even when life demanded he be somewhere else.

You understood. You never held it against him. How could you, when every time he walked through the door, he brought home not just diapers or groceries or new bottles—but a kind of love you could feel in the way he looked at both of you?

Tonight, he came home late. The front door opened without a sound, his footsteps like whispers against the wood floors. The house was dark, except for the soft hum of the baby monitor in the kitchen and the faint light slipping from the cracked bedroom door.

He pushed it open slowly, eyes adjusting to the soft dark. And then he saw you.

There you were—barely awake, still cold, Audrey sleeping on your chest, her cheek squished gently against your collarbone. A soft, unconscious smile touched her lips as she stirred slightly in her sleep. Her tiny hand flexed open, like she was reaching for something in her dream. Then, her fingers curled again, resting right over your heart.

Rafe stopped in the doorway.

Everything else disappeared.

He could’ve walked into a palace and it wouldn’t have made him feel like this. Like the richest man alive. His throat tightened as he stepped closer, his hand brushing your arm gently, warming you with his touch. He didn’t say anything at first—he didn’t have to. You stirred slightly, too tired to open your eyes fully, but when you felt his weight dip into the bed beside you, that last bit of cold left your bones.

Rafe leaned down slowly, brushing a kiss to your temple, then one to Audrey’s downy head. She sighed in her sleep, her tiny lips parting around the dummy before closing again.

“She smiled,” you whispered hoarsely, voice barely a breath.

Rafe nodded, his eyes misting. “I saw.” His voice cracked on the edge of wonder.

He pulled the blanket further over your legs, then slipped behind you in bed, wrapping his arm around both of you—shielding his whole world in that one perfect moment. One hand rested over Audrey’s back, the other over your hand. He kissed your shoulder again, then pressed his forehead against the back of your neck, breathing you in.

“You’re everything,” he murmured. “Both of you. Everything I come home for.”

Audrey stirred again, letting out a soft hiccup in her sleep, her hand twitching slightly—and then, as if the moment wasn’t already perfect, her tiny fingers gripped Rafe’s thumb in her sleep, her dummy still bobbing gently.

He didn’t move. He just closed his eyes and smiled.

The house was still. But now, it wasn’t silent.

It was full of love.