Max stood awkwardly in the nursery doorway later that evening, watching Daniel quietly hum as he rocked Aiden to sleep. The baby was tucked against Daniel’s chest, breathing deep and slow, tiny fingers curled into the collar of his papa’s shirt. The warm yellow glow of the nightlight painted everything soft and safe.

Max’s hands were clenched by his sides. His heart thudded like a warning bell—he didn’t know if he had the right to speak. Not now. Not after everything.