Two days later.

9 PM.

Since the week began, the city had been quiet for the first time. The heavy rainfall a few hours ago had chased everyone inside, leaving the splashes of cars driving through puddles the only sounds the city could hear.

The night was tranquil and cold, water beads hanging off metal railings, and the streetlights appearing blurry on the wet tar.

The sky had turned deep navy, and the air smelled like earth. And from the view of a certain 310-meter 5-star hotel, the city was nothing more than squares of light. Each square could mean a family, a couple, or a workplace, where everyone was the main character of their own story.

This hotel was the same one Luca had booked for the length of his stay in Baku. Its name was Absherjan, and yes, it was no exaggeration, the hotel stood at a height of 310 meters, making it the tallest and the most prestigious in the country.

Like a portal to somewhere warm, the huge glass that goes from the floor to the ceiling, leaked warm, yellow light onto the sidewalk where the valet in trench coats under golf umbrellas remained steadfast in welcoming luxurious cars like Rolls-Royces and SUVs.

Walking in, the visitors hit warm air. The thick carpets swallow voices and footsteps, and the reflections of the giant chandeliers brightened the interior of velvet chairs and leather curtains far more than the brightest day would.

One of the newest visitors was a widow to a Russian billionaire. And as predicted, her journey to Azerbaijan must somehow be tied to the thematics of Formula 1, whether stocks or direct monetary participation.

Maybe she had forgotten to call the VIP line of this hotel, or had her personal concierge arrange things before her arrival, because it was at the counter that she asked to be booked in the First Presidential Suite.

But the staff replied, "I’m sorry. The suite is currently committed...

While the Penthouse is occupied, we can offer you our Royal Terrace Suite."

It was one of the few times the billionaire had been refused. She was also curious to learn the identity of the tycoon who sat at the very peak of the most luxurious hotel in Baku.

But privacy is the #1 rule in hotels.

"I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to disclose our guests’ identities for their privacy—just as we would protect yours, ma’am."

Defeated, the woman opted for the Royal Terrace.

Meanwhile...

In the First Presidential Suite, it was heaven on earth. Occupying the living area was a floating fireplace behind glass, and with a heavy double door entrance leading into a private marble hallway, the suite was totally silent. Not muffled. Silent.

Luca’s brass telescope was by a window, and the room next to it was a library occupied by books no one really read, yet there were a few open. And the room after that was the best bathtub ever, having the view of the city even when submerged.

Without people, it felt like life was on pause, the silence heavy and lonely.

But there were people in it.

A mother and a 7-month-old child.

Instead of perfect silence, there’s the frequent thud of the baby crawling, and most of the hotel smell had been eradicated by the scent of baby powder, warm milk, and lotion.

It’s pretty common for people to say babies need to be in bed early, so it was a surprise that even with the perfect setup, Martin still wasn’t feeling sleepy as the clock ticked to 10 PM.

Most of the heavy lifting for a baby’s growth happens during deep sleep. Since the deepest sleep usually happens in the first half of the night, an earlier bedtime helps them catch more of that quality rest.

Around sunset, a baby’s brain starts pumping out melatonin, a sleep hormone. If they aren’t asleep by the time that peak hits, their body thinks, "Oh, I guess we’re staying up!" and it gets harder to put them down.

This explains why a tired baby sometimes acts like they have way too much energy.

And no, a baby who goes to bed too late is not less likely to wake up in the middle of the night. In fact, it’s the opposite. And worse, they still wake up at their normal time, so it means they just end up getting less total sleep, making them fussy and prone to crying over small things the next day because the brain didn’t rest enough.

Did Laura know this?

Yes.

Was she concerned?

Not really. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

$10,000-a-night suite can’t buy a baby’s sleep schedule, but it can definitely buy her peace.

If Martin were a girl, she would be a whole lot stricter, but he’s a boy. Breaking the rules was a boy thing. Besides, the suite was filled with all sorts of things to keep both of them engrossed.

Laura= books

Martin= anything

The mother and the child enjoyed their night peacefully.

But when Martin started to show signs of stress, things changed. He crawled frantically, became breathless all of a sudden, and started grumbling.

It sounded like the boy was communicating that he was angry and he didn’t know why.

His mother would happily answer that: Because you refuse to sleep!

When Laura tried to hold him, he fought her by arching upwards, and when she dropped him, he whimpered.

After so many repetitions, that could be stressful even for Laura, but she was a patient mother, and she had a plan.

She started games.

"Where’s the Baby?"

Using the edge of a blanket, Laura hid herself from the frustrated child, and then slowly revealed her face.

"There he is," she said with a tired smile, and Martin smiled back.

But that wasn’t enough.

Once he grew tired of it, he turned his attention away and started crying towards the windows.

Laura stole back his attention by mimicking every sound he made. If he whimpered, she whimpered. If he sniffled, she sneezed. If he grunted, she groaned, and if he babbled, she babbled softly, too.

This made the baby feel heard. He started making quieter and quieter sounds until he was just yawning.

Laura took the opportunity and carried him with no resistance this time.

She took him to the walls to explore the texture of things by letting him run his hands over the different fabrics in the room.

Eventually, Martin couldn’t fight it anymore, and his eyes closed, his head on his mother’s shoulders. Laura drummed her fingers lightly on his back to the rhythm of the drizzle hitting the window for several minutes until Martin’s breathing was just right for sleep.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are!

Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in...

A music box sitting on the nightstand played the nursery rhyme as Laura lowered Martin onto the bed.

The bed was so big it looked like a white island in the middle of the room, the sheets made of cotton that always stayed cool, and about eight different pillows of all shapes and sizes at the crown.

Laura used the pillows to make a nest for Martin and made sure his favorite small blanket was tucked right under his chin.

Finally, she backed out of the room on her tiptoes, leaving the door open. Once in the hallway, Laura exhaled, knowing that it was mission accomplished.

The time was 10:21 PM now. She still had enough time for herself.

In five days, she had read seven books from the library. Imagine her in her prime without a child to cater to.

Walking back into the library, it felt like the smartest, quietest place on earth, but just as she was about to sit down, a firm knock came from the door leading into the living room.