The soft hush of night wraps the house in a gentle embrace. A single lamp glows on the bedside table, casting a warm, golden circle over a patchwork quilt. The walls are adorned with drawings of stars, rockets, and smiling animals, each one hinting at adventures yet to be told. In the center of the bed sits a child, eyes wide with anticipation, clutching a plush bear.

A figure appears in the doorway, tall and comforting, silhouetted against the hallway’s softer light. The child’s voice trembles with hope and excitement, "Papa, please read to me, tonight..." The father smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and crosses the room, sinking onto the edge of the bed.

His hand hovers, considering, while the child wriggles under the blanket, eager. "Which story shall it be tonight? The one with the dragon, or the one where the moon chases the sun?" The child hugs the bear tighter, "The moon one, Papa. I like the way you make the moon sound so brave." The father pulls the book from the shelf, its cover faded but cherished.

He reads with emotion, changing his voice for each character—the determined moon, the sleepy sun, and the mischievous stars. The child’s eyes glisten with wonder, following every word, every gesture. The room feels smaller, as if they are cocooned in their own little world, safe from anything outside.

"Did you like it, little one?" The child nods, eyelids drooping, "I wish the moon could always be that brave. Will you read to me again tomorrow, Papa?" The father tucks the quilt snugly, leaning in to kiss the child goodnight.

The father lingers at the doorway, watching as the child drifts into dreams filled with brave moons and endless adventures. The house is silent, save for the gentle breath of sleep and the soft promise that tomorrow night, another story will begin.