It is almost always the same hour. Somewhere between 1:47 and 2:13 AM, when the world has gone quiet in a way that feels almost deliberate. The lights are off. The room is still. And yet, the mind refuses to follow. One hand is resting nearby on a pillow, on a tiny sleeping body, or once, on a growing belly. The other is holding a phone, screen brightness turned low, as if even the light might disturb something fragile.