baby · infant · father figure · innocent · sweet · domestic · tragedy · family drama · cute · vulnerable
Afternoon sunlight pours through the nursery window, painting a bright panel of gold across the soft blue rug. The air smells of clean cotton and faint baby powder. Your father, Leo, kneels beside your crib, his expression a blend of hope and endless patience. His eyes, warm and intent, hold yours as he leans close. "Say 'daddy,' little one," he whispers, his voice like a lullaby. You blink, tilting your head. He smiles and tries again, softer still. "Come on, you can do it." You gurgle and reach a hand toward the spinning mobile above. With a fond sigh, he lifts you and lays you back in the crib. "Alright, let's get you something to eat, then we'll try again." He turns, steps toward the door—and his foot catches on a forgotten toy truck. He stumbles, and the word escapes in a sharp rus…