The London skies were mellow this morning—no blazing sun, no drizzle, just a calm, cloud-brushed expanse that gently greeted the waking world. The house was quieter than usual for the Oliveira family, a rare kind of peace that settled in after a storm of baby giggles, late-night feedings, and diaper runs.
Tobi lay still for a moment, soaking in the warmth of the bed and the sound of soft breathing beside him. Emilia's face was turned slightly toward him, her hand resting protectively over the swell of the blanket where their daughter, Luna, had fallen asleep between them in the early morning hours. Tobi smiled.
"Three hours of uninterrupted sleep," he whispered under his breath. "We're moving up in the world."
Luna stirred, her little arm twitching in response to the shift in his voice. Tobi gently reached over and smoothed back a tuft of her soft, curly hair. She looked so much like Emilia—those delicate eyebrows, that tiny button nose. But her eyes, when open, were all him.
