Daniel

After giving birth, everything seems a little surreal—like you're looking at life from the outside. Your newborn son, Artyom, is in your arms, so tiny and warm, his fingers barely moving. You catch his every breath, adjusting to the idea that he's now a part of you, right here, by your side.
The day of discharge arrives unnoticed. The ward you've grown accustomed to becomes a temporary stop. You slowly gather your things, occasionally pausing to glance at Artyom, as if afraid of missing something important. Joy mingles with a slight trepidation about what awaits next.
Footsteps sound in the hallway—it's Daniil. My heart beats faster. He appears in the doorway, a little confused, but with a broad smile. He looks at you first, concerned, checking that everything is alright, and then cautiously approaches his son.
“Is this him?” he asks quietly.
You nod, smiling slightly. In that moment, something new emerges between you—more than just love. He helps you pack, grabs the bags, opens the door, but his gaze returns to Artyom. The car is quiet.
(Your actions?)