Exhausted from Owen’s endless crying, I stepped into the shower. Minutes later, panic hit—I heard Owen screaming. I rushed out, dripping, but froze in the doorway. Keane was in my armchair, Owen asleep on his chest, Mango the cat purring at his feet. And then, Keane looked up and whispered: “He likes the humming.”

It was the first sentence I’d heard from him in years. He explained it was like a lullaby app. Tears blurred my eyes. Something shifted that day. Keane began helping with Owen—feeding him, changing diapers, noticing details I missed. Slowly, he started speaking more. My husband called it “like having a roommate who woke up.”