FAZER LOGINMorning light through the curtains. The soft shuffle of footsteps across wooden floors, the faint sound of a kettle clicking off. And the baby’s cry whenever hunger or discomfort arrived was like a sudden storm that no one could predict. Matthew stood near the couch, slightly uncertain, arms extended in the careful way of someone afraid to break what he did not yet understand. Grace hovered nearby, watching with cautious curiosity. Ava sat on the edge of the armchair, exhausted in a way that had settled into her bones and refused to leave. The baby cried again, small fists tightening in the air. Ava reached out immediately. “It is probably hunger,” she murmured, lifting him gently. But the moment the baby settled against her chest, the crying did not ease; it only grew louder. Confusion crept into her face. “That is strange,” Grace said softly. “He just ate a little while ago.” Matthew stepped forward slowly. “I can try.” Ava hesitated, then she nodded. “Just hold him ca
Morning arrived gently. Sunlight filtered through the curtains in soft gold ribbons, stretching across the apartment floor. The smell of breakfast drifted from the kitchen. Fresh bread warming in the oven. Matthew sat at the dining table with a cup of coffee between his hands. The warmth seeped into his palms, but his attention was elsewhere. The previous night lingered strangely in his mind. Because he had woken up feeling as though someone had been sitting beside him. The baby's tiny noises came from the living room. Grace was entertaining him while Ava prepared breakfast. Matthew glanced toward the kitchen. Ava stood by the counter wearing a simple blue sweater; her hair was loosely tied back. A few strands escaped around her face, and she looked tired. She always looked tired these days. As though she had slept well for the first time in weeks. Matthew looked away before she noticed him staring. The radio sitting on the kitchen counter crackled softly. A song began p
The fourth evening arrived quietly. Outside, rain tapped softly against the apartment windows, turning the city beyond the glass into a blur of distant lights and muted shadows. Inside, the apartment carried the comforting smell of food. Ava stood in the kitchen stirring a pot on the stove while keeping one eye on the baby monitor resting beside the fruit basket. Her movements had become more practiced over the past few weeks. Motherhood still exhausted her. There were moments she felt completely overwhelmed. Moments, she questioned whether she was doing anything right. Yet somehow each morning arrived, and she found herself standing again. The sound of soft footsteps pulled her attention toward the living room. Matthew was pacing slowly across the rug, and the baby rested against his shoulder. One large hand supported the tiny back while the other gently rubbed small circles. The baby stared up at him with sleepy eyes, and Matthew smiled. The expression transformed his enti
The apartment had finally fallen quiet. The city lights beyond the curtains glowed softly against the darkness, casting pale reflections across the living room floor. Grace had gone to sleep hours ago. Matthew had retired to his room after taking his medication. Ava had spent the evening feeding the baby, washing bottles, arranging medication schedules, and answering calls from both her parents and Matthew's parents. By the time midnight arrived, her entire body ached. Her incision still pulled whenever she moved too quickly. Her shoulders were stiff, her eyes burned, and all she wanted was sleep. Just a few uninterrupted hours, that was all. But the baby had other plans. A sharp cry shattered the silence. Ava's eyes flew open immediately. For a second, she stared blankly at the ceiling. Then another cry came, this one was louder and longer. Her heart clenched, and she carefully pushed herself upright. The movement sent discomfort through her abdomen. A quiet hiss escape
Ava sat quietly after Mrs. Taylor's apology. The apartment seemed unusually still. The baby slept peacefully in her arms, unaware of the emotions unfolding around him, unaware of the years of hurt being pulled into the light one painful piece at a time. Across from her, Mrs. Taylor sat with damp eyes and trembling fingers. The older woman looked exhausted. Like someone who had spent years carrying a weight and had finally found the courage to put it down. For several moments, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched gently between them. Then footsteps approached, and the front door opened. Mr. Taylor stepped back inside. Behind him came Clara carrying a small shopping bag. Both of them immediately noticed the atmosphere in the room. Clara's gaze moved from Ava to her mother, then back again. "What happened?" Nobody answered immediately. Mrs. Taylor lowered her eyes. Mr. Taylor slowly walked toward them. "Margaret?" His wife looked up. The moment he
The apartment was smaller than the house Matthew had sold, but it felt warm. Sunlight streamed through the large windows overlooking the street below. The walls were painted a soft cream, and the furniture had clearly been chosen for comfort rather than appearance. After weeks spent in hospital rooms filled with antiseptic smells and the constant beeping of monitors, the simple apartment felt almost luxurious. Clara parked outside and helped everyone carry the bags inside. Mr. Martin was already waiting near the entrance. The moment he saw them, a smile spread across his face. "There you are." He walked forward immediately. "Ava." His eyes softened when they landed on the baby. "And this must be the little gentleman everybody has been talking about." Ava smiled. "Yes." Mr. Martin leaned slightly closer. "He is handsome." Grace laughed. "He gets that from his mother." Mr. Martin nodded seriously. "I agree." The baby yawned in his sleep and that made everyone smiled. Mr.
Morning light spilled through the thin curtains of the service apartment, pale and quiet, stretching across the wooden floor in long rectangles. The place still carried the faint warmth of the night before—rumpled couch cushions, the soft scent of coffee beginning to rise from the kitchen.Matthew
Ava didn’t answer.She stood there in front of his desk, hands resting lightly against the edge, her nails pressing into the polished wood without her realizing it. Matthew watched her in that steady way of his — not blinking much, not moving much either. He had always known how to wait her out.Wh
Matthew said nothing. But the surprise in his eyes lingered. It wasn’t outrage. It wasn’t anger. It was something quieter. Something unsettled. Like she’d shifted a piece on a board he hadn’t realized they were playing on. Ava didn’t mind. She let him look. Let him wonder. He lowered his gaze t
The bedroom smells faintly of his cologne.It lingers in the fabric of the curtains, in the collar of the shirts she hasn’t moved yet. Ava stands in the middle of the room with a pile of folded laundry in her arms, not sure how long she’s been standing there.The house is quiet. Sophie went to bed







