Soon, Elio was breastfeeding Amir. It seemed he hadn't just been crying because he was confused. He was also hungry. The little sounds he made—small, satisfied noises—filled the room with something soft and peaceful.
"Doesn't that hurt?" I asked, watching the way Elio winced slightly as Amir latched on.
"It does," Elio admitted, his voice tight for a moment before relaxing. "But he won't stop biting. He's got these little teeth coming in, and he thinks everything is something to chew on."
"He's just a baby," I said, smiling despite myself.
"Yeah, that's right." Elio looked down at his son with an expression I couldn't quite name. Love, yes, but something more than that. Something fiercer. "But it hurts like a bitch."
