When Lilith brought her newborn son Narek home from the hospital, the house seemed to breathe differently. The rooms that once felt ordinary were suddenly filled with a fragile rhythm of tiny breaths, faint cries, and the constant rustling of baby clothes. Lilith could not stop watching him, her heart overflowing with a love so strong it frightened her. Yet from the very beginning, she noticed something unusual about him.
By the fourth day, Narek’s delicate skin began to peel in thin sheets. At first it appeared around his small fingers, then on his legs, flaking like pages being turned. Lilith’s chest tightened with fear. She had read countless baby books, yet none of them prepared her for this. She dialed the pediatrician in a panic, her voice trembling as she tried to explain what was happening.
The doctor examined Narek carefully and finally said, “This can happen for several reasons. Sometimes it’s just the body adjusting after birth. Other times, it can be linked to conditions during pregnancy—like dehydration in the mother. It looks alarming, but in most cases it’s temporary.” 🌱
The word dehydration struck Lilith like a knife. She remembered how, during the last months of pregnancy, she had limited her water intake. Her body had felt heavy, swollen, and uncomfortable. She thought drinking less would help, but now guilt twisted inside her. Could her choices have caused this?
That night, Lilith sat beside Narek’s crib and watched him sleep. His chest rose and fell with calm innocence, while flakes of skin collected on his blanket. She whispered softly, “I’m sorry, my little one. I should have done better.” Her husband, Arthur, tried to reassure her. “You’re a wonderful mother,” he told her. “He’s healthy, he eats well, he cries, he sleeps. Don’t blame yourself for everything.” But Lilith’s heart would not let go of the fear.
Days passed, and the peeling continued. Sometimes Narek’s feet looked so dry that Lilith hesitated to put socks on him. She bought moisturizers, adjusted the air in the room, even changed detergents, desperate to fix what she believed she had broken. She spent hours searching for answers online, stumbling across terrifying possibilities. What if this was not temporary? What if it was a sign of something worse? Her anxiety grew until it consumed her every thought. 😟
Two weeks later, something shifted. The peeling slowed. Where the flakes had fallen away, fresh skin appeared—smooth, soft, almost shining under the light. The pediatrician’s words proved true. “He’s adjusting,” the doctor said. “See? His body is stronger than you think.”
For a brief moment, Lilith allowed herself to breathe. She smiled again as she held Narek close, inhaling his sweet baby scent. Arthur laughed when she admitted how much she had worried. “That’s what parents do,” he said. “We imagine the worst, even when everything is fine.”
But the story did not end there. One evening, as Lilith rocked Narek to sleep, she noticed something strange. The new skin on his arms seemed unusually luminous. At first, she thought it was a trick of the lamp beside the crib. But as she leaned closer, she saw it—his skin was glowing faintly, almost as if a hidden light pulsed beneath the surface. ✨
Her breath caught. She rubbed her eyes, but the glow remained. She whispered Arthur’s name, and when he entered, he froze too. They both stared as Narek stirred in his sleep, his tiny fists clenching. The faint light spread across his chest, flickering like embers of a fire. For a moment, the room felt warmer, alive with a presence neither of them could explain.
Arthur tried to laugh it off. “It must be the reflection from the lamp.” But his voice was uncertain. Lilith knew what she had seen. And the guilt she carried now twisted into fear. What if her choices during pregnancy had not just dried his skin—but changed something deeper inside him?
Over the next nights, the glow returned. Each time Narek slept, faint patterns appeared beneath his skin, like rivers of light branching through his tiny body. Sometimes the glow dimmed, sometimes it grew stronger, but it was always there. 🌌
Lilith began to wonder if the dehydration during her pregnancy had forced his body to adapt in some mysterious way. Had her mistake awakened something hidden? She couldn’t tell Arthur how heavily the thought weighed on her. Instead, she wrote everything in a secret notebook—times, patterns, even sketches of the strange designs she saw under his skin.
One night, while the city outside lay silent, Narek suddenly began to cry harder than ever before. His wails shook the walls, and when Lilith rushed to pick him up, she froze. His entire body was glowing—bright, golden, and terrifying. The flakes of skin that once had frightened her now floated up into the air, circling above his crib like tiny sparks. 🌠
Arthur grabbed her hand. “What is happening?” His voice trembled. They both watched as the sparks formed shapes in the air—circles, spirals, and finally, symbols they didn’t recognize. The room buzzed with energy, and the air grew thick with heat.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. The glow faded, the sparks fell, and Narek lay quietly in her arms, fast asleep, as if nothing had happened. Only the faint smell of something scorched lingered in the room.
Lilith pressed her cheek against his tiny head, her heart racing. Tears filled her eyes, but this time not just from fear.
She realized something: Narek’s condition wasn’t just the result of her choices. It was something larger, something unexplainable. Her guilt melted into awe. She whispered, “You’re not broken, my son. You’re extraordinary.” ❤️
From that day, Lilith no longer feared the peeling skin or the glow that sometimes returned at night. She stopped blaming herself for mistakes she might have made. Instead, she accepted that her child was different in ways science might never explain. And though she didn’t know what the future held, she knew one thing for certain—Narek’s light was not a weakness. It was a gift, one that would one day reveal its purpose to the world.
