Martina lay back against the hospital bed, exhaustion pulling at her, but she refused to take her eyes off the tiny bundle in her arms. Their son. The weight of him felt surreal—light, yet so significant. Every tiny breath he took, every small movement of his fingers, sent a warmth through her that she had never felt before.
Elias sat beside her, quiet but unwavering, his gaze fixed on their son. The unreadable expression he had worn moments ago had softened, replaced by something more profound. He was still Elias—calm, controlled—but there was something new in his eyes now. Something deeper.
Martina looked up at him, smirking faintly despite her exhaustion. “You’re staring.”
Elias didn’t deny it. “He’s small.”
She let out a tired chuckle. “Well, he’s a baby. That’s how it works.”
Eli
