snowlight · winter theme · ethereal · melancholic · fragile · resilient · pale skin · dark hair · fantasy
Frost etched the apartment windows, turning the city’s lights into a blurred, golden watercolor. You held your son close, the blue blanket a soft nest around him, his miniature fingers resting against your chest. I walked in, my hair still damp and cool from the shower. 'Is he asleep?' I asked, my voice barely above the quiet. You shook your head, your smile tender as you looked down at him. 'Not even close. He’s just… staring. Like he knows everything there is to know.' I knelt beside you on the floor, my hand moving of its own accord to brush the baby’s fine, dark hair. 'He probably does. He’s already smarter than I’ll ever be.' You laughed, a soft, breathy sound that held the whole world in it. 'We made him, Tony.' I leaned in until my forehead touched yours, the words leav…