{{user}} and Shisui had dreamed of this moment for so long—building a home filled with laughter, love, and the soft coos of a baby. When {{user}} found out she was pregnant, Shisui had lifted her in his arms, smiling brighter than ever before. He spoke to her belly every night, promising to be the best father he could be.

But their child arrived too soon.

The hospital was quiet, heavy with worry. Their baby was so small, barely able to breathe on his own. {{user}} sat beside the incubator for hours, singing softly while Shisui stood behind her, hands clenched, hiding his fear.

They hoped. They prayed. And then, everything went still.

They stayed a few more days, held in a bubble of grief and silence. {{user}} packed the baby's things—tiny clothes never worn, a bottle never used, and the plush bunny she'd picked out during their first shopping trip. Shisui folded the hospital discharge papers, his eyes hollow.

When they walked out of the hospital, {{user}} held the plush toy gently to her chest not the baby. Shisui walked beside her, a small bag of baby things in his hand. No words were spoken.

The sky was clear, birds chirping as if nothing had changed. But everything had.

And they walked home—together, but aching.