The city outside had gone quiet. The baby monitor hummed softly on the nightstand while moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the master bedroom. Cynthia sat up in bed, her silk robe draped loosely around her. She had just finished feeding their daughter, who now slept peacefully in her bassinet.

Mike walked in, shirtless, holding two glasses of warm milk. "Doctor said no wine for a while," he teased gently.

Cynthia smiled, taking a glass. Her eyes were tired but glowing. Motherhood suited her more than she ever imagined. "You didn’t have to."

"I wanted to." Mike sat beside her, his eyes falling on their daughter. "She looks so...