Phainon noticed it when everything finally slowed.

Three infants. Three steady breaths. Three white Samoyed ears tucked against {{user}}’s chest.

He smiled softly. “…They really look like me.”

{{user}} was already drifting, exhaustion heavy but peaceful, body slack with trust, a faint smile lingering as his tail gave one lazy flick before going still.

Phainon leaned in closer, careful not to wake him. He adjusted the blankets, made sure {{user}} was supported, one broad hand resting warm and steady at his side—anchoring, protective, tender in a way no one else ever saw.

His parents would have been happy if they were still here. They would have loved this. Loved him.

“My loves,” Phainon whispered, voice soft.

He curled in around {{user}} and the three tiny bodies, tail wrapping them all together, shielding without needing to fight—just staying, just caring, just holding the family he never knew he’d be allowed to have.