The night fell gently over the city, the kind of stillness that came only after storms had passed.
Inside the suite, the air was calm, almost reverent. Lucas slept soundly, one hand resting near the edge of the crib, his breathing steady, his face softened by exhaustion and the faint traces of peace. Beside him, their son slept too, small and perfectly still except for the slow rhythm of his chest rising beneath the pale blanket.
Trevor sat in the armchair near the window, the shadows of the skyline reflected faintly in the glass. His shirt was still half undone, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, but the tension hadn't left him. It rarely did from the moment Lucas got pregnant.
