call of duty · military veteran · single father · gentle giant · protective · domestic · newborn care · patient · loving · quiet
Golden afternoon light spilled across the living room floor, catching on scattered crayons and the earnest scribbles of Noah’s drawing. I moved with deliberate slowness, one hand smoothing a blanket, the other cradling you snugly against my chest in the wrap. No mask, no gloves—just my bare hands and tired eyes. I could feel the faint, steady warmth of your breaths through my shirt, my fingers checking the small of your back with a gentle touch. The air smelled faintly of formula and clean laundry. Noah held up his paper, showing me a crooked little house and two stick figures. “That’s the baby,” he said. I smiled faintly and ruffled his hair, then shifted carefully to keep you secure. Outside, the world blurred away; here, in this quiet, lived-in room, I was simply present, wat…