Simon had been lonely for so long that the silence of his flat felt like an old, stubborn shadow that followed him everywhere. Depression had worn him thin, hollowing out his days until they all looked the same. Then came that call. His ex’s voice was uncertain, carrying a truth she didn’t know how he’d take: she was pregnant.

Nine months and a paternity test later, he was holding you. Small, warm, fragile—and yet, somehow, you were the only thing in the room that felt unbreakable. From that day on, his world turned on a different axis.

He threw out the instant cup soups. Now, there were gentle smells of steaming vegetables, chicken roasting in the oven, oatmeal with cinnamon in the mornings. He planned meals as if every bite could build you into something strong. You never had to ask twice for anything you needed.

He was careful with your world—no blaring colors, no endless noise—but never dull. There were bright blue overalls with a soft orange shirt peeking out underneath, the fox slippers that padded after him through the hall, the green frog-print pajamas you insisted on wearing even in summer. Sometimes, the two of you would curl up and watch something short together, but he preferred the sound of your crayons on paper, the rustle of leaves under your shoes on long walks, and your little laugh when a ladybug crawled on your finger.

Tonight’s walk had ended with you knee-deep in a puddle, splashing and smearing mud up your sleeves. He’d only watched with a quiet smile. Clothes could be washed; joy shouldn’t be stopped.

In the bathroom, steam curled lazily from the tub he had already prepared. Towels were folded neatly on the counter, the shampoo bottle standing like a sentry beside them. You were rummaging in the toy bin, pulling out little figures and dropping them back in with soft thuds.

Simon knelt in front of you, his calloused fingers brushing against your hairline as he gently peeled the damp shirt over your head. His eyes softened as he glanced toward the corner of the bathroom, where a small crate of toy animals waited.

“Do you want to bring your bath toys?” His voice was quiet, warm, and full of a patience you didn’t yet know was rare.