Bonds at War: The Untouched is Mine novel Chapter 397

Attachment 397 Summary

Abel describes the challenges of caring for his infant daughter, Snow, who cries every night despite their efforts to soothe her in their new home. The nursery is perfectly set up to be calming, but nothing stops Snow’s crying, leaving Abel exhausted and frustrated as he tries everything from checking her diaper and feeding her to patting her back.

Unable to get Snow to settle, Abel reaches out to his friends through a group chat humorously named “The Daddies,” seeking advice in the middle of the night. His friends respond groggily, offering suggestions like singing lullabies, which Abel reluctantly tries. Though it quiets Snow briefly, the crying soon returns, and Abel continues to feel helpless.

Cade finally suggests an unconventional solution: Abel should offer Snow the comfort of nursing himself, even though he is not the baby’s mother. Despite feeling ridiculous, Abel follows Cade’s advice, and to his surprise, Snow immediately calms and falls asleep in his arms. This success brings a mix of relief and humor among the friends, who tease Abel as they hang up.

At the end, Abel reflects on the moment, noting how long it has been since he and Luna have had intimacy, highlighting the sacrifices and adjustments parenthood demands. The chapter captures Abel’s exhaustion, determination, and the supportive camaraderie between the new fathers as they navigate the trials of caring for their children.

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Chapter 397: Daddy Duties

ABEL

Snow looked like a little angel, peaceful and pure in her crib.

But apparently, angels didn’t come with the luxury of sleeping through the night.

It had been a full week since we moved into our new home on the primary estate—a quieter wing that overlooked lush gardens, far enough away from the main building to ensure Luna could rest undisturbed. Snow’s nursery was absolutely perfect. It was right next to our bedroom, and we kept the door open at night for easy access. The room itself was designed to soothe even the most restless soul, bathed in soft pastel colors and gentle lighting.

Yet, none of that seemed to help.

Every single night, Snow cried.

And tonight was no different.

Her wails pierced the silence, sharp and urgent, cutting right through to my chest. Luna lay asleep beside me, utterly exhausted after everything we’d been through, finally getting the rest she deserved. I didn’t want to wake her, not after all that. So I slipped quietly out of bed, my bare feet barely making a sound against the floor, and moved toward the crib.

“It’s okay,” I whispered softly, bending down to pick her up. Snow’s tiny body trembled with each sob, her face scrunched up in distress, fists flailing weakly in the air. “Hey, hey, I’ve got you, Snow. What’s wrong this time?”

Of course, she didn’t answer.

I sighed, carrying her carefully downstairs, hoping that maybe a change of scenery would soothe her. The house was dim and still, wrapped in a comforting silence. I settled onto the couch, gently bouncing her in my arms.

“Alright,” I said softly, rubbing her back in slow circles. “Let’s start with the basics.”

First, I checked her diaper—clean. Good. Then I offered her the bottle of pumped breastmilk, still warm from earlier. She turned her head away, refusing it.

“Okay, not that either,” I muttered under my breath.

Maybe she had gas? I patted her back gently, waiting for a burp. Nothing came.

She just kept crying.

I leaned back against the couch, letting out a low groan, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “Cade said this would happen,” I whispered to myself.

Looking down at Snow’s tear-streaked face, I couldn’t help but say, “You’re really proving him right, you know that?”

Her cries only grew louder.

“Alright, alright,” I said quickly, my voice firm. “Let’s keep this between us. Mom needs her rest.”

After trying everything I could think of, I finally gave up.

It was time for my last resort.

I grabbed my phone and opened the chat labeled “The Daddies.”

I still didn’t know who named it that—probably Rowan. It had his trademark sense of humor all over it.

I glanced at the clock.

They were probably asleep. But if I was going to be awake and suffering through this, I refused to be alone.

I pressed the call button.

The ringtone echoed through the quiet house, and for a moment, I thought no one would pick up. Then, slowly, faces began to appear on the screen.

“Seriously, man?” Rowan’s voice cracked first, his hair a mess and eyes squinting in disbelief. “It’s three in the morning.”

Next was Cade, his background strangely bright for the hour. “Abel,” he said flatly, “tell me you didn’t just wake us up for parenting advice again.”

Elias showed up last, shirtless and looking groggy, holding what appeared to be a cup of coffee. “What’s going on? Who died?”

“Help me,” I said, cutting straight to the point.

They all groaned in unison.

“Not again,” Rowan muttered. “This is your third emergency call this week.”

“She’s crying,” I explained helplessly, bouncing Snow in my arms. “She won’t stop. I’ve tried everything.”

Cade sighed deeply. “Is she fed?”

“Yes.”

“Changed?”

“Yes.”

“Too hot? Too cold?” Elias asked.

“No, I checked that too!”

There was a pause. Rowan rubbed his face, clearly debating whether it was too early to hang up on me. “Did you try singing?”

“Singing?”

“Yes, singing,” he repeated patiently. “You know, with your voice. Lullabies. Babies like that kind of thing.”

“I don’t sing,” I said immediately.

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