Chapter 257: Rhythm
*Runze’s POV*
The hours between midnight and dawn blur into a relentless haze of small demands.
Every time Siying settles, her tiny eyes flutter open again twenty minutes later—fussy, restless, and demanding a constant cycle of feeding, burping, and shifting from one shoulder to the other. Neither of us has slept more than thirty minutes at a stretch. By the time Siying finally drifts off against my chest around four in the morning, my mind is completely numb, my body aching with a bone-deep exhaustion.
I manage to transfer her to the crib without waking her, stepping back into the room and sinking onto the bed. The moment my head touches the pillow, I drop into a heavy, dreamless blackout.
When I wake up, the room is bathed in the soft, misty grey of early morning.
The spot beside me on the bed is cold.
A quiet, low murmur coming through the baby monitor on my nightstand pulls me back to consciousness. I blink away the heavy fog of sleep, pushing myself up to sit on the edge of the mattress.
Siying is awake again.
I push back the duvet, my feet touching the cold floor, and make my way quietly down the dimly lit hallway. The nursery door is slightly ajar, casting a warm, soft sliver of light across the floor.
I reach the doorway and pause, leaning lightly against the frame.
Bael is standing by the window, cradling her small frame against his bare chest, his tall silhouette outlined by the faint dawn light. He moves in a slow, rhythmic sway, his large palm supporting her tiny head while his thumb lightly strokes the back of her neck. He is whispering to her in a low, gravelly rasp—a quiet, steady stream of words meant only for her.
My body moves to step inside.
"Bael..." my voice comes out rough and dry with sleep.
Bael turns his head instantly, his sharp dark eyes catching mine from across the room. He doesn’t stop his slow rocking, but his tone is quiet, firm, and completely uncompromising.
"Stay in bed, Runze."
"She’s awake," I say, taking a step into the room anyway, my knees feeling slightly weak beneath my weight. "Let me—"
"I have her," Bael cuts in softly, holding my gaze. "She’s not hungry, she’s just restless. Go back to bed and close your eyes. I can handle it."
I look at the deep shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes, the set of his jaw, and the absolute, protective devotion in his posture as he holds our daughter. He doesn’t look overwhelmed; he just looks steady.
I step fully into the room. My feet make no sound against the floor as I cross the space between us, stepping up behind him. I wrap my arms around Bael’s waist from behind, leaning my cheek against his broad, bare back, inhaling the deep, familiar warmth of his skin.
Bael doesn’t stop his slow, rhythmic swaying with Siying. He simply leans back slightly into my touch, letting out a soft, heavy breath.
"Runze..." he says gently, his thumb still stroking the back of Siying’s neck. "Trust me. Go get some sleep."
A quiet, contented "Mm..." slips from my throat, my eyes already fluttery and heavy against his back. I hold him for one more long, lingering beat before slowly letting my arms unlock from his waist.
I step back, taking one last look at the two of them wrapped in the pale dawn light, before turning to make my way back to our bedroom. Sinking back onto the mattress, my eyelids grow heavy as the faint, low murmur of Bael’s voice drifts through the monitor on the nightstand, lulling me back into the dark.
***
When I properly wake up hours later, the morning sun is pouring full through the window, painting golden streaks across the bedroom floor.
I sit up slowly, feeling far more grounded than I did at dawn. The room is dead silent.
I push back the duvet, stepping barefoot across the carpet toward the open nursery door.
I freeze at the threshold.
The high-backed rocking chair by the crib is still. Bael is asleep in it, his long legs stretched out, his head tilted back against the dark leather. Resting right on the center of his broad, bare chest is Siying, her tiny cheek pressed flat against his skin, her small hands bunched into loose fists over his collarbone. Both of them are breathing in perfect, synchronized depth—the big Alpha and the tiny newborn completely out cold, anchored together by the quiet warmth of the room.
I stand there in the doorway for a long moment, unable to move, unable to take my eyes off the image of them. The raw, quiet perfection of it settles deep into my lungs. A sudden, breathtaking surge of vulnerable love burns at the back of my throat.
Seeing Bael—usually so guarded, so imposing—completely unguarded and devoted to our daughter strips away the last lingering thread of my exhaustion.
Before I can step forward, gentle footsteps approach behind me in the hallway.
Grandmother stops beside me at the threshold. She looks past my shoulder into the nursery, her sharp, intelligent eyes softening the instant she sees Bael asleep with Siying on his chest. A faint, utterly fond smile touches her lips.
"Good morning, Grandmother," I whisper softly, turning my head slightly toward her.
"Good morning, Runze," she murmurs back, her tone warm and maternal.
She takes a quiet step into the room. But before she even reaches the rocking chair, the shift in the air is enough. Bael’s eyes snap open instantly, his hand instinctively cupping the back of Siying’s head as his posture stiffens in the chair.
Siying stirs at the sudden movement, letting out a small, restless fuss.
"Easy," Grandmother says softly, stopping right beside the chair before Bael can force himself up. She reaches down, her experienced hands resting gently over Bael’s knuckles. "She is awake, Bael. Let me have her."
Bael blinks away the heavy haze of sleep, his breath still slightly shallow as his instincts settle. He looks down at Siying, then up at his grandmother, slowly relaxing his grip.
Grandmother slides her arms beneath Siying with practiced ease, lifting the baby against her chest. Siying settles almost immediately against her, lulled by the calm presence.
Grandmother turns her head toward me, her gaze steady and reassuring.
"Go back to your room, Runze," she says in a low, quiet tone. "The two of you need to rest."
"Grandmother—"
"I am spending time with my great-granddaughter," she cuts in smoothly, a faint glint of pride in her eyes as she lightly pets Siying’s cheek. "Go."
Bael pushes himself up from the chair, running a hand over his face as Grandmother turns and carries Siying out of the nursery, her movements light and steady as she heads down the hallway.
***
Left standing in the quiet nursery, Bael lets out a deep, raspy breath, rubbing a palm over his face. "I shouldn’t have fallen asleep with her like that."
"You were exhausted," I whisper, stepping closer to take his hand. "Come to bed."
He lets me lead him back into our room, the door clicking quietly shut behind us. For the first time since coming home, the space feels unnaturally quiet. The absence of the crib’s soft creaks or Siying’s small snuffles leaves an empty, wide space between us.
We stand beside the bed, both of us momentarily frozen, unsure of what to do with the unexpected quiet.
Bael looks at me, his gaze dropping to our joined hands before slowly rising back to my face. The sharp, relentless focus he usually carries, the constant edge of an Alpha keeping his world under control, is completely gone, softened by fatigue and the quiet morning.
"It’s quiet," I murmur, my thumb tracing the back of his knuckles.
"Too quiet," Bael agrees softly.
He steps closer, closing the small distance between us. His hand comes up, his palm warm against the side of my neck, his thumb brushing over my jaw.
The contact is electric, a sudden, grounding current that cuts right through the lingering fog of the morning.
Bael leans down, his mouth catching mine in a slow, deep kiss.
It isn’t hesitant or careful. It is heavy, passionate, and fiercely possessive.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling him down, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as I melt into him. The world outside this room disappears completely, shrinking down to the weight of his body against mine, the steady, frantic beat of his heart against my ribs.
When he finally pulls back a little, his deep, uneven breathing fans over my face as he holds me right there, his eyes locking onto mine with an unyielding, intense focus that makes my chest tighten.
"I love you, Runze," Bael whispers, his throat working over the words as if saying them aloud strips away the last of his strength. His grip on my waist tightens, holding me like an anchor. "I am so happy I have you in my life."
The words hit me right in the chest, a quiet, overwhelming warmth flooding my veins.
"I love you too, Bael," I murmur, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. "I’m so happy you’re the first person I met when I came here."
Bael blinks, pulling back just an inch, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. "What do you mean, when you came here—"
Before he can overthink it, I catch his hand, tugging him down onto the mattress with me. "Sleep, Bael."
He lets it go, wrapping his body entirely around mine and pulling the duvet over us both. My head rests right over his chest, inhaling his familiar scent as his arm secures me flush against his side.
We don’t talk anymore. Within minutes, the sheer weight of our exhaustion catches up to us, and we sink together into a deep, peaceful sleep, held firmly in each other’s arms.
***
By early evening, dusk has settled over the estate.
In the nursery, the warm glow of the lamp illuminates the crib. Siying has been fed, changed, burped—patting her small back until she let out that tiny, satisfied air bubble—and swaddled in her soft blanket. Her eyes are closed, sleeping deeply in the center of the mattress.
I stand beside the crib, looking down at her small, calm face, my hand resting gently on the rail.
Bael steps up behind me, his chest pressing against my back, his arm sliding smoothly around my waist to hold me close. He rests his chin against my shoulder, his presence wrapping around me like a shield.
We don’t speak, but we don’t need to. The room doesn’t feel strange anymore. The exhaustion is still there, but beneath it is a steady, undeniable certainty.
We are finding our rhythm.