*Runze's POV*
The nursery smells like fresh paint and something warm underneath it, cedar from the new shelving, clean cotton from the folded blankets still in their packaging on the changing station.
I stand in the doorway for a moment before stepping in.
Everything is here. The crib sits against the far wall, pale wood and soft lines, the mobile hanging above it catching the morning light. The wardrobe is already filled, tiny clothes organized by size, smallest at the front. The changing station has everything it needs arranged neatly across it. Soft toys crowd one corner shelf, big and small, some of them still with their tags on. A rocking chair sits beside the window, positioned to catch the afternoon light.
I step inside.
My hand finds the edge of the crib and rests there, my fingers curling lightly around the wood.
A few more weeks.
