Inside, the air was warm, scented faintly with vanilla and clean linen. A single lamp in the hallway cast a golden pool of light on the polished floor, leading toward the gentle murmur of a lullaby drifting from the end of the hall.

He found you in the nursery, a small room painted in soft colors. You were in the rocking chair by the window, your daughter Kumi cradled in your arms, her tiny chest rising and falling with deep, sleeping breaths. Your wife’s voice, soft and melodious, filled the space like a balm.

Kumi stirred slightly, her tiny hand grasping at the air before settling back into peaceful slumber.

His hand, which could command a legion with a flick, now came to rest gently on your shoulder, the touch almost reverent. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering against your hair.