Chapter 4
I put the teddy bear next to the crib and turned around, only to see my wife hadn't left yet.
"You're acting strange. Something's not right. Let me see our son," she said.
She brushed past me, ignoring my attempts to stop her, and walked right into the bedroom.
Damn, there was no way I could hide it now.
Before I could even react, she was already standing by the crib.
She stared at our baby's closed eyes, reaching out her hand as she murmured softly,
"Baby's been sleeping for so long. Let Mommy hold you..."
Right at that critical moment, a sudden knock came at the door.
My wife hesitated, her hand frozen in mid-air for a second, then finally turned to open the door.
I let out a huge sigh of relief, quickly followed her out, and closed the bedroom door behind me.
It was my parents. The baby's grandparents.
As soon as they walked in, they barely exchanged a few words with my wife before rushing over.
"Where's my sweet grandson? Let Grandma give him a big hug!" my mom said, her face beaming with joy.
My dad was grinning from ear to ear, his whole face radiating love for his grandson.
"Baby must be missing Grandpa, huh? Grandpa brought you a brand new toy, come on, let's give it to him," my dad said, grinning.
I hurried to block them.
"He just fell asleep. Please don't go over, you'll wake him up," I said.
"It's fine, it'll only take a moment. I just want to hold him," my mom replied, not bothered at all. "I've done this before, trust me, he won't wake up."
"Let's wait until he wakes up," I said, struggling to keep them back.
My wife chimed in, teasing, "He treats our son like a treasure, won't even let me near him."
I tried to explain, my voice strained, "It took me ages to get him to sleep. Please, don't mess with him..."
But I still couldn't stop them. My parents pushed their way into the bedroom.
With four people squeezed into the tiny room, the air felt suffocating.
The cramped space made it hard to breathe. I was gasping, like a fish out of water, desperate for air.
My parents seemed completely unfazed, grinning at our "sleeping" son.
Thankfully, they didn't get too close, just stood a couple of steps away, glanced at him, then started looking around our bedroom.
On the dresser sat a family photo of the three of us. My wife and I were holding our baby, all of us beaming with joy.
Beside it was our baby's one-month photo, dressed up as a superhero, with a clueless look in his eyes as he stared at the camera.
The bottle warmer was on the nightstand, crowding out the stylish little nightlight.
My work laptop was being used as a coaster for the baby bottle, and spilled formula had splattered onto my wife's prized designer purse.
All the things we once treasured had been set aside without hesitation, making room for our son.
Pacifiers, toys, half-opened packs of diapers...
All these items were scattered across the table, brazenly displaying the evidence of our son's life.
Suddenly, my dad pointed at the crib, his mouth hanging open in surprise.
It was a soft rubber Luffy figurine from One Piece, my most prized possession back in the day.
Once, my mom accidentally gave it away, and I stormed over to my relative's house in the middle of the night, raising hell like my life depended on it until I got it back.
Even after I grew up, got married, and started a family, that figurine always sat front and center on my desk.
But now, it was dumped by the crib with a pile of other toys, all worn out and ignored, and it was missing half an arm.
My dad walked over and gave my shoulder a reassuring pat.
"Looks like being a dad really made you grow up," Dad said, giving me a proud smile.
I felt a bitter pang as I nodded, but then I noticed Mom was already by the crib.
'Oh no!' I thought, panic flooding in.
I nearly shouted, but hurried over and grabbed Mom's arm. "What are you doing? Don't wake the baby!"
Even though I tried to keep my voice low, the stress and urgency still came through loud and clear.
Mom gave me a confused look, clearly not understanding why I was so anxious.
But she didn't really question it, just whispered,
"He's got way too many layers on. Babies' skin is super sensitive. If you keep him bundled up like this, he'll end up with sores."
Then she reached out and pulled back one of the blankets.
"How come the bedding isn't warm?" she wondered aloud.
Her words sent a chill down my spine.
If she peeled back one more layer, she'd see the baby wasn't just cold. He was completely lifeless.
I had to stop her!
Without a second thought, I grabbed her hand.
"You just got back from outside, and it's below freezing today. Your hands are ice cold. Don't freeze the baby."
Anxiously, I blurted out, "Just one layer is enough, keep the rest covered."