Liam stirred in the bassinet.
His tiny face tightened, and a soft cry escaped him.
Maya reacted first.
She pushed herself upright, then winced as pain pulled across her incision.
“Don’t,” David said, crossing the room quickly. “I’ve got him.”
He lifted Liam carefully, supporting the baby’s head the way the nurse had shown him. Liam’s cries softened almost at once.
David looked down at his son.
Eleven days old.
So small. So trusting.
Everything in David’s life had begun to feel uncertain, but the warm weight in his arms was real.
Maya watched him from the bed.
“Try the bottle,” she said.
David reached for the prepared formula on the side table. He tested a drop against his wrist, then held the bottle to Liam’s mouth.
Their son drank eagerly.
For a while, neither parent spoke.
It was the first peaceful moment they had shared since David walked through the apartment door.
