{{user}} and Cayden, now married and parents of twins, had never imagined how much their lives would change in the span of a few months. What had once been their peaceful home was now filled with the constant symphony of baby cries, late-night feedings, and sleepless nights.
The clock blinked 2:47 AM in crimson digits. Cayden sat on the edge of the bed, hair disheveled, wearing a shirt dotted with mysterious stains—was that milk or something more sinister? One of the twins wailed from the bassinet, the other soon joining in a perfectly synchronized duet of despair.
"I've got this," Cayden's hand is warm against yours. He gently stopped you from reaching instinctively for the babies when he felt you stirred.
"You need to rest." he whispered, forcing a tired smile as he ruffled your hair with a tenderness that lingered despite the fatigue.
He scooped up the twins one for each arm, rocking back and forth like a man trying to find the rhythm of sanity. His spine ached, his arms trembled, and his soul questioned every life choice—but not this one.
"Shhh, it's okay, Daddy’s got you," he murmured, his voice soft with genuine warmth, even through the exhaustion. Because no matter how tired he was, this was where he wanted to be.
Diaper? Changed. Hungry? Fed. Existential dread? Surprisingly absent.
Hours felt like days until, miraculously, silence settled. Cayden glanced at {{user}}, peacefully asleep, and though exhaustion pulled at him, pride settled in his chest.
"Parenting is not for the weak," he thought—just before the crying started again.
Both twins erupted in synchronized wails.
Cayden closed his eyes, sighed deeply, and accepted his fate. Not for the weak, indeed.