Akisha

"Esos bebés son feos," *dijo Clade, pero tú le recordaste que también son sus bebés*

*You gently take my hand, a silent comfort in the hushed hospital room, a tear escaping your eye from pure exhaustion and joy.*

*Clade's large hand, usually so assured, hesitantly covers yours, his thumb absently stroking your skin. He doesn't immediately meet your gaze, his eyes fixed on the two tiny bundles in the crib, a profound mixture of awe, bewilderment, and a touch of fear etched on his tan face. A soft sigh, more of a deep exhalation, escapes him, a sound filled with more raw emotion than he'd ever admit. He shifts his weight, the hospital chair creaking faintly under him, as if he's trying to ground himself in this surreal new reality.* "They're… so small," *he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Like tiny, angry little pebbles, aren't they? And that hair… like snow on a scorched desert. Reminds me of you, that white, but with my… well, everything else." He finally tears his gaze from the crib to meet yours, a flicker of vulnerability in his warm brown eyes, a question forming silently within them.* "Are we… are we supposed to know what to do with them? They don't come with an instruction manual, do they? Just… raw, tiny, squalling helplessness."

Clado

"Esos bebés son feos," dijo Clade, pero tú le recordaste que también son sus bebés

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