December 11th, 2025- Three Days Later-

Yuri's POV 1st Person

"Welcome home," I say quietly as we step into the house. I carry Sacha carefully in my arms, my husband following with everything else. I glance around, terrified of tripping on something and dropping the tiny bundle that is everything to us both.

We make our way upstairs, the trip taking three times as long as it normally does as I'm so afraid of hurting my daughter. When, at last, we reach the pink room, her room, I head inside. I walk along the perimeter, showing her everything as her big green eyes follow the motion. I set her down on the changing table, gently removing the onesie she wears in favor of pajamas. It doesn't make much of a difference, them being virtually the same thing, but I can't help but think how cute she looks in the little pink patterned one. 

I sit down in the rocking chair with her, wincing as I do, the stitches disliking my change in position. I speak Russian softly to her as I ease myself into the chair, eventually finding a position that doesn't hurt. I read somewhere that if you speak different languages to infants they'll grow up knowing them and not have to learn them later, plus it makes learning additional ones so much easier. We plan on employing this as she'll have to speak three languages (Russian, English, and French, that last one because just about everyone in Europe speaks French and both Otabek and I are fluent) not to mention multiple additional ones if she ends up like us and travels the world when she's older. Between the two of us and all our years as international competitors, Otabek and I can get by in Japanese, Russian (duh), French, English (once again, duh), Italian, German, and Spanish. The last few we only know conversational basics in; 'Where is the bathroom?', skating necessities; 'When are the public skate hours?' 'How do you get to the rink from here?' and anything having to do with 'Olympics.'

Her bright green eyes are fixed on me as I speak, a curious look on her little face. I smile as I watch her watch me, it's crazy how much I love her. She's three days old and already I can't imagine life without her, what did we do before she came around? Sleep will probably be the obvious answer, but, as we've been in the hospital since she was born, we have yet to experience anything of what's to come. 

As I rock she looks around the room, and although she can't see much more than my face and the white ceiling overhead, she stills seems entranced by it. Eventually, I find her eyes drifting shut and watch as she falls asleep, keeping her in my arms. I continue holding her, feeling so complete with the tiny infant near me. 

Otabek appears in the door, smiling at the sight of me with our daughter, the picture of domesticity. He comes over and gazes down at little Sacha, a loving expression on his face. He gives me a kiss and I hand her over to him, carefully ensuring her head stays supported. He takes her and places her gently in the crib, making sure she's safely in the little sleep sack before removing his hands. We stand there together, my head on his shoulder as we watch our tiny daughter sleep in her own bed for the very first time.

December 14th, 2025- Three Days Later-

"No!" I groan as Sacha starts crying again. "Five minutes, I only need five minutes," I pull myself out of bed and wince slightly as I tug on my stitches. I stumble into the pink room next to ours and wearily pick her up. Oscillating slowly, I find my eyes drifting shut. No. Wake up! I force myself to open them once more and try to stimulate myself, I am not falling asleep holding a newborn. Her cries do not cease and I go through the checklist; fed, diaper change, too hot, too cold, or, she just won't sleep for any other reason beyond keeping us awake. After exhausting every option I sigh, I was right, she's just a little sadist. 

I walk around the room, both to keep myself awake and to try and lull her to sleep. She has yet to quiet and I've just about given up, running on negative energy, and plop down into the rocking chair, going back and forth and hoping an end is in sight. I lay her down on my chest so her little head is to the side. Theoretically, the motion is supposed to be calming. Practically? Ha, as if. My eyes begin closing again and this time I let them, making sure I'm still functioning and knowing that even if I do fall asleep, I can't drop her. 

Her cries continue but soften slightly, a sign she's close to dosing. The relief I feel is equal to nothing with the prospect of relief so near. She's almost asleep when the door opens, the hall light flooding in; she screams.

"Beka," I groan as he steps into the room, quickly shutting the door behind him, "What are you doing, I was so close!" 

"I'm so sorry," He winces apologetically as she begins crying yet again. "I thought you'd fallen asleep, you've been in here for almost two hours."

"Bold of you to assume either of us will ever sleep," I murmur, my eyes closed. "Has it really been two hours?" He takes her from me gently and nods, looking concerned.

"Go to bed," He says and begins walking around the room with her, following my previous path. "I can take it from here," I nod gratefully and heave myself out of the chair, carefully shading the hall light from view as I go.

I fall into bed and listen as my husband tries and fails to get Sacha to sleep. I briefly consider going back in and helping but think that might be counter-productive, plus, in here I can lie down. When, at last, Otabek joins me in bed he seems as tired as I feel. "How did it go?" I murmur as he collapses onto the mattress beside me.

"Sleep is for the weak," He mutters back. I laugh slightly in return before replying,

"Three days on our own and we're already dying,"

"Just wait," He says, "We won't sleep for the next six months," I whimper slightly and a silent goodnight passes between us, neither awake enough to officially communicate it.

That night we're up three more times each and by the time Beka returns from his third round of rocking and shushing, the sun is halfway through the sky. We officially get up at 6 am, abandoning the attempts to sleep and starting the day at our daughter's command.

I sit in the kitchen as Beka makes breakfast, feeding Sacha. She makes happy little gurgling noises as she sucks on the bottle, her beautiful green eyes staring intently into mine.

"It's funny," I say to Otabek and he looks up, 

"What?"

"During the daytime, she's so sweet, a perfect angel," I say, "Then at night, she pulls a freakin' Exorcist and won't let us sleep."

"You think she's possessed?" My husband laughs, 

"It's the only reasonable explanation," I return drolly.

"Or," He suggests, perfectly nonchalant, "She's just a normal newborn,"

"That," I say, "Is absolutely ridiculous," He shakes his head at me with a smile,

"Whatever you say,"