*Runze's POV*
The hours between midnight and dawn blur into a relentless haze of small demands.
Every time Siying settles, her tiny eyes flutter open again twenty minutes later—fussy, restless, and demanding a constant cycle of feeding, burping, and shifting from one shoulder to the other. Neither of us has slept more than thirty minutes at a stretch. By the time Siying finally drifts off against my chest around four in the morning, my mind is completely numb, my body aching with a bone-deep exhaustion.
I manage to transfer her to the crib without waking her, stepping back into the room and sinking onto the bed. The moment my head touches the pillow, I drop into a heavy, dreamless blackout.
When I wake up, the room is bathed in the soft, misty grey of early morning.
The spot beside me on the bed is cold.
