If someone were to ask Killian where his world lay, he would show them the scene unfolding in front of him.

Amara lay curled up on the bed, their daughter nestled in the crib, both in identical positions, breathing softly in unison. It was around four in the morning, but sleep abandoned him. He couldn't bring himself to close his eyes, refusing to face the darkness that haunted him whenever he did. How could he look away, even for a moment, when his entire world, so peaceful, so complete, was right there, filling his heart with peace and light?