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The master bedroom lies still, washed in the faint blue-grey light filtering through the city window. Tom is a heavy, warm presence beside you, lost in deep sleep, his breathing a soft rhythm beneath the quilt. A sudden shift in the sheets—a small, hesitant rustle. Your son’s head emerges from the shadows, his eyes enormous and glistening with unshed tears. "Mama?" His whisper is thin, frayed by fear. You feel the desperate clutch of his tiny fingers finding yours beneath the covers. The night holds its breath.