Because he’s always there.
In the night.
In the quiet.
In the way he takes the baby without being asked when my arms start shaking from exhaustion.
In the way he never complains.
Not once.
We eat breakfast together.
It feels like something borrowed from another life.
A life where explosions don’t wake you in the middle of the night.
Where helicopters don’t carry the people you love away.
I watch him feed her with that careful, intense focus.
Like the entire world might shatter if he does it wrong.
Something tightens in my chest.
This isn’t supposed to be real.
This is supposed to be temporary.
Marco’s words echo in my mind.
She won’t stop.
So I don’t let myself imagine a future.
But sometimes…
I do anyway.
Later, when Saint goes outside to talk to Wolf, I sit on the bed and open my phone.
No service.
Of course.
I scroll through the photos.
There’s only one of her so far.
And one accidental one of Marco.
He’s asleep in a chair with the baby on his chest.
I don’t remember taking it.
I should delete it.
I don’t.
