Quinn's POV
"Rock-a-bye Baby In a tree top," I sang rocking little Nicolas in my arms. "Where the wind blows the cradle would rock,"
"Where the bough breaks the cradle would fall," his tiny eyes drew open and close as he fell asleep. "Where the bough breaks the cradle would fall"
I hummed the children's lullaby in the peaceful dim-lighted little room.
The polished wooden coffee table stood gracefully on the white rug. On it a bouquet of jasmine sat, contaminating the air with its clean, unique scent.
I stared at my child; his eyes shut while his short baby hair curled on his fair skin.
Being a mother proved more difficult than expected. In the past three days since Nicolas's birth, I only managed to take less than four hours nap a day. Nicolas would cry every moment he awoke urging me to leave whatever I had on ground to tend to him. There were moments I broke into tears of frustration and exhaustion.
