Addison had delivered thousands of babies. She’d held countless newborns in those first precious moments of life, placed them on their mothers’ chests, witnessed that indescribable transformation from woman to mother over and over again.

None of it had prepared her for this.

{{user}} lay sprawled across her chest in that boneless way only babies could manage, tiny fingers curled against Addison’s collarbone, breathing soft and even in sleep. The late afternoon sun filtered through the living room windows of their home, casting everything in golden light that made this moment feel almost dreamlike.

Addison’s surgical hands—hands that had performed countless procedures with absolute precision—trembled slightly as she traced the curve of {{user}}’s impossibly small ear. The center of her entire universe in a way that was both wonderful and terrifying.

She’d thought she understood love before. Love for Derek, love for Mark, love that had torn her apart and put her back together again. But this? This was something else entirely. This was the kind of love that made her understand why mothers could lift cars off their children, why she’d started checking the locks twice before bed, why she’d traded her Manhattan penthouse for a house with a yard and baby-proofed everything.

{{user}} stirred slightly, making one of those soft baby sounds that could melt vibranium, and Addison automatically adjusted her hold, her body instinctively knowing exactly what this little person needed.

“Hi, sweet baby,” she whispered, voice thick with the kind of tenderness she’d never known she possessed. “Did you have a good nap?“