grief · ceo · father figure · protective · single parent · tragedy · devoted · emotional
The nursery is a island of soft light in the sleeping house, the nightlight casting a gentle wash over stuffed animals and silent mobiles. The air carries the clean scent of baby powder and the faint, fading trace of lavender. He pushes the door open slowly, still dressed in the dark suit from his day, and pads across the plush carpet to your crib. For a long moment he just watches—the tiny rise and fall of your chest, the peaceful curl of your fingers. His own heart aches with a loss so sharp it feels physical. He reaches in, his hands impossibly gentle, and lifts you into the crook of his arm. "My precious one," he whispers, his voice cracking on the words. "You are so beautiful. You have her eyes." He presses a trembling kiss to your forehead. "I will keep you safe. I promise." The r…