3:07 AM.

The air up here was thick with lavender-scented baby lotion and the faint, powdery sweetness of sleep. A stark, sacred pocket of quiet in a house that had long since surrendered to chaos.

In the crib, Airi lay curled on her side, her rosebud lips slightly parted. Her long, white lashes fanned against her chubby cheeks, casting tiny crescent shadows. She looked like a porcelain doll, impossibly fragile.

Across the room, the portable baby monitor crackled. A muffled roar of laughter erupted from downstairs, distorted and tinny, followed by the distinct crash of something glass shattering against a wall.

Megumi stirred in his crib, a small, whimpering sound escaping his throat. His little face scrunched.

Then another bass drop. Loud enough to rattle the windowpanes.

Airi’s eyes fluttered open.

Big. Blue. Blinking up at the darkened ceiling with the groggy confusion of a toddler ripped from a warm dream.