DHD

/SOL

The modern digital timepiece on the kitchen counter glowed 3:14 AM when Marcus found himself rocking gently in the dark, a tiny, warm weight pressed against his bare chest. Leo was only three weeks old, his breathing a shallow, rhythmic flutter that synced perfectly with the ticking of the wall clock. In the quiet hours of the night, the world felt entirely reduced to this single room, stripped of email notifications, unfinished work projects, and the chaotic noise of the daytime rush. Marcus looked down at the faint outline of his son’s face, catching the tiny, involuntary smile that occasionally flickered across the newborn's lips during deep sleep. Just a month ago, daddyhood had been an abstract concept built out of instruction manuals, crib assembly diagrams, and friendly warnings about sleep deprivation. Now, it was a tactile reality of soft cotton, the scent of baby lotion, and an overwhelming, fiercely protective instinct that Marcus had never anticipated. He carefully readjusted the muslin swaddle, marveling at how someone so small could completely rewrite his entire definition of purpose. As Leo let out a soft sigh and settled deeper into sleep, Marcus closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the rocker, entirely content to let the rest of the world wait.