He lifted Liam carefully, supporting the baby’s head the way the nurse had shown him. Liam’s cries softened almost at once.
David looked down at his son.
Eleven days old.
So small. So trusting.
Everything in David’s life had begun to feel uncertain, but the warm weight in his arms was real.
Maya watched him from the bed.
“Try the bottle,” she said.
David reached for the prepared formula on the side table. He tested a drop against his wrist, then held the bottle to Liam’s mouth.
Their son drank eagerly.
For a while, neither parent spoke.
It was the first peaceful moment they had shared since David walked through the apartment door.
Finally, Maya said, “You’re good with him.”
David gave a tired smile.
“I’ve held him for less than a day.”
“He already knows you.”
“I hope so.”
“He does.”
The certainty in her voice almost broke him.
David lowered himself into the chair beside her bed, Liam still drinking in his arms.
“I should have been here,” he said.
Maya’s gaze dropped to the blanket.
“We’ve already talked about that.”
“No. We talked about what my mother did. We haven’t talked about what I did.”
“You were working.”
“I chose to go.”
“You went because the project mattered.”
“I went because I thought providing money was the same as being present.”
Maya looked at him.
David kept his eyes on Liam.
“I told myself the trip was for us,” he continued. “For the apartment. For his future. But part of me also liked being needed by everyone. My mother. Chloe. Mark. Even people at work. It made me feel important.”
“You are important.”
“That’s not the same as being needed.”
Liam’s hand curled around David’s finger.
David swallowed.
“I don’t want him to grow up watching me confuse the two.”
Maya was silent for a moment.
