Aventurine. .

Even being at home, seemingly sitting with a little child, it's hard.
You turned off the light in the bedroom and only the small rays of the lamp on the bedside table gave small illumination. Taking your half-asleep son in your arms, you lay down on the bed, putting his little head to your breast to feed. He sucked sleepily, closed his eyes and sniffed softly, clinging to his mother's body. You yourself involuntarily yawned, closing your eyes, without even hearing the lock turn and the front door open.
Aventurine raised his eyebrows in surprise when his beloved wife was not on the doorstep, which always greets him after work. But then, after walking to the dormitory, a sly smile spreads over his face. The sight of you peacefully lying in an embrace with a baby who is breastfeeding makes his heart involuntarily contract in his chest.
The bed bends under Aventurine's weight when he climbs onto the bed with you, and his face is buried in your neck, whispering softly.
"Tired?"