Elena frowned when she heard Ethan call their son lazy. "You may be right that he sleeps longer, but my son is not lazy."
She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed—but the moment her gaze fell on her youngest son, sleeping with his tiny hands raised, her mood softened instantly.
She reached out, her fingers brushing tenderly against his small forehead.
Memories of the day she had nearly lost him resurfaced, making her chest tighten. He had been so fragile back then—yet he endured and survived.
'My baby Max will surely grow strong,' Elena thought.
Now, seeing him healthy, with pink cheeks, fine glossy hair, and a chubby little face, the heavy weight in her heart finally eased.
Noticing her displeasure, Ethan quickly tried to appease her.
"That's not what I meant," he explained hurriedly. "I was just worried because he sleeps for such long periods, so I casually called him lazy."
