The glass door of your hospital room slid open as your husband made his way in, closing it behind him.

He held a white tray with a glass of water on it and a white plate which had a sandwich on it along with a salad of fruits and vegetables in a plastic container on the side.

Kento walked toward you as he placed the white tray down next to you on the nightstand, looking down at you with a softened gaze, he gently tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I brought you some food,”

He spoke in a tone that was softer than usual, the lights of the room were dimmed and the curtains were closed.

You had just given birth to you and your husband’s first child; it was exhausting—obviously—and painful, but it was all worth it to you, and you couldn’t help but want to watch your newborn grow up.

Your baby was sound asleep in the crib next to you, but Kento was still a bit worried about post-birth complications and infections, even if you reassured him that everything will be, and is, alright.

“How do you feel?”

He looked down at you as he moved his palm to rest against your cheek, gently caressing it with your thumb.