A New Chapter

The first time Caesar saw their child, he understood what it meant to love someone before you even met them.

The moment was hazy, full of exhausted whispers and quiet sobs, but he would never forget it.

Blythe had been gripping his hand so tightly he thought she might break it, but he hadn't cared. All he could do was watch in stunned silence as the doctor placed a tiny, squirming bundle into Blythe's shaking arms.

She was crying.

He was, too.

And neither of them cared.

Because nothing in the world mattered more than the tiny baby between them, red-faced and screaming, already filling the world with her voice.

A voice that, somehow, was the most beautiful thing Caesar had ever heard.

"Hi, baby," Blythe whispered, pressing a trembling kiss to the newborn's forehead.

Caesar swallowed hard, his chest tightening in a way he had never felt before.

He had spent years thinking Blythe was the greatest thing to ever happen to him.

And now, he had two reasons to believe in miracles.

Their daughter.

Their family.

---

They named her Lena Elise Tiu.

Caesar had suggested it one night while they lay in bed, Blythe curled against his chest, her belly round with the life growing inside her.

Blythe had traced small circles on his skin, her voice drowsy when she murmured, "Lena, huh?"

"Yeah." He had smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Short, simple. But strong."

She hummed in agreement. "I like it."

"Lena Elise," he had whispered, as if trying it out for the first time. "Tiu."

Blythe had laughed softly, nuzzling closer. "Perfect."

And now, as he held his newborn daughter in his arms for the first time, whispering her name like a sacred prayer, he knew—

Nothing in his life had ever been more perfect than this.

---

Parenthood was terrifying.

Caesar had never been scared of responsibility before. He had always been the kind of person who faced challenges head-on, confident that he would figure things out eventually.

But when it came to Lena, there was no "figuring things out."

He was terrified of messing up.

Of failing her.

Of not being enough.

Blythe, of course, handled things with more grace.

She had always been patient, steady. Even when Lena woke them up at 3 AM screaming her lungs out, even when the exhaustion made her eyes heavy with unshed tears, she never once complained.

Caesar, on the other hand?

He panicked every single time.

"Why is she crying?" he asked one night, pacing the nursery, cradling Lena against his chest. "She just ate. She's dry. She—she's looking at me like she hates me, Blythe."

Blythe, half-asleep in the rocking chair, mumbled, "She's a baby, Caesar."

"She definitely hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Blythe groaned. "Just hold her close and—" She yawned. "—talk to her."

Caesar frowned. "Talk?"

Blythe cracked one eye open. "Yes. Talk. Say literally anything. She just wants to hear your voice."

Caesar hesitated, looking down at Lena's scrunched-up face.

Then, slowly, he started rocking her again.

"Uh… okay. Hey, kid. It's me. Your dad." He let out a breath. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing, so maybe give me a little break here?"

Lena just wailed louder.

Blythe snorted.

Caesar groaned, flopping into the chair beside Blythe. "Well, at least she's honest."

Blythe laughed sleepily, reaching over to take Lena from him. Within seconds of being in her mother's arms, their daughter finally stopped crying.

Caesar crossed his arms, scowling. "Oh, so now she's fine?"

Blythe smirked, pressing a soft kiss to Lena's forehead. "She just likes me better."

"Unbelievable."

Blythe grinned up at him. "You'll get used to it."

And as much as he hated to admit it—

He already was.

Because no matter how exhausted, overwhelmed, or terrified he felt—

Caesar Tiu loved his daughter more than anything in the world.

And he would spend the rest of his life proving it.

---

The years flew by faster than they had expected.

One moment, Lena was learning to walk, gripping Caesar's fingers with tiny, chubby hands.

The next, she was running across the backyard, barefoot and wild, her laughter echoing through the summer air.

And then, before he knew it, he was standing outside her first-grade classroom, watching her disappear through the doors with a backpack too big for her small frame.

Blythe had squeezed his hand, smiling knowingly. "You look like you're about to cry."

Caesar scoffed. "I am not."

Blythe smirked. "You totally are."

He turned away, blinking furiously. "Shut up."

Blythe only laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Caesar sighed, running a hand down his face. "She's going to grow up too fast, isn't she?"

Blythe squeezed his hand. "Yeah."

Caesar exhaled. "I hate it."

Blythe smiled softly. "Me too."

And in that moment, as they stood there watching their daughter take her first steps into a new world—

Caesar realized something.

This was what life was meant to be.

Not just the highs, the celebrations, or the picture-perfect moments.

But this. The in-between. The everyday things. The simple, ordinary joys of raising a child together.

And as he looked at Blythe, her blue eyes bright with love, he knew—

He would choose this life, this family, this woman, over and over again.

Every single time.