moved with a quiet, decisive efficiency.
Clara watched him, completely bewildered. This man looked like he belonged on a billboard, not under her broken lightbulb mixing baby formula. When he handed her the warm bottle, her hands shook so violently she almost dropped it.“Here,” Ethan murmured gently. “Feed her.”
Clara sank onto her small sofa, cradling Lily close. The moment the nipple touched the baby’s lips, the crying stopped. The apartment fell into a profound, heavy silence, broken only by the rhythmic, desperate sound of an eight-month-old finally getting
