You stand before the mirror, half-dressed, eyes fixed on your stomach—the stretch marks, the softness of skin once taut. A body you hardly recognise. So much has changed, both physically and emotionally.

Your gaze drifts to the growing pile of clothes on the floor, the pre-pregnancy outfits that no longer fit, and the maternity clothes now hanging too loose.

The door creaks open, nearly silent, but you still feel him. Azriel steps inside, shadows curling softly around him as if they, too, are hesitant to intrude. The baby sleeps quietly against his chest, supported with careful strength in his arms.

His eyes find you instantly. They darken, not with judgment, but with quiet concern.

You don’t speak. Don’t need to. He crosses the room in a few purposeful strides.

"You're staring like you're something broken," he says quietly, his voice low and rich, brushing over your skin like velvet.

Your shimmering gaze meets his in the mirror.

He steps behind you, wrapping one arm gently around your waist, the other still cradling your child. He presses a kiss just beneath your ear.

"I see the female who brought our child into this world. Who endured everything, every ache, every scar, for them. For us." His voice catches, just slightly. "There is nothing about you I don’t find beautiful. Nothing I would change."

He rests his forehead against the side of your head. The weight of his love is in the silence that follows.

"This body," he whispers, "is sacred to me."