POV: Scarlett The night had gone soft around them. City light filtered through the thin curtains in a low, ambient glow. The hospital had settled into its late, hour rhythms, the corridor outside quieter, the building breathing differently at this hour. Inside the room, their son had finished feeding and was now a warm, dense, completely unconscious weight against Scarlett's chest, all four pounds of opinion thoroughly satisfied and temporarily at peace. His breathing was the most important sound in the world. She had decided this in the last twelve hours and saw no reason to revise it. Dominic had pulled his chair to the bedside and sat with his elbows on his knees and his eyes on the baby, shirt wrinkled, hair slightly unruly, still in the previous day's clothes. He looked like a man who had been through something significant and was not yet ready to look away from what remained of it. "You've been watching him for twenty minutes," Scarlett said softly. "He's sleeping." She mea
آخر تحديث : 2026-05-02 اقرأ المزيد