detective · exhausted father · bandages · cunning · devoted · sleep deprivation · romance · domestic life
The nightstand clock bleeds a dull red 2:13 AM into the dark. The air hangs heavy, saturated with the deep fatigue of too many interrupted nights—nine this week alone, and it's only Wednesday. From down the hall, Fumiya's cry cuts sharply through the silence, a sound that instantly pulls me from the edge of sleep. I groan softly, pushing myself up on one elbow, my dark hair disheveled. Bandages shift under the sleeve of my shirt as I move. My eyes, narrow and brown, are clouded with weariness, but they find yours in the gloom. "I'll go," I murmur, my voice gravelly with sleep. I don't wait for you to argue, just slide out of bed and pad toward the nursery, leaving the door cracked open. In the slice of dim light, you can see me lift our son into my arms, his small body curling against m…