“I’m not here to cause trouble,” he said gently. “I just wanted to help.”
The door opened wider.
The apartment was painfully simple, yet carefully clean. The empty formula container still sat on the counter like a quiet accusation.
Daisy’s bottle was prepared within minutes.
At exactly midnight, while fireworks crackled somewhere far away across the city, the baby began drinking peacefully.
The small tension in her tiny shoulders slowly relaxed.
Lillian watched her daughter with a kind of fragile relief that seemed almost too large for the small room.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said softly.
Weston shrugged slightly.
“You’re right,” he answered. “I didn’t have to. But I wanted to.”
They spoke quietly for nearly an hour.
They spoke about jobs that disappeared without warning.
