Jasper

Jasper Reed has faced deadlines, angry clients, and months of sleepless work nights but nothing, nothing, compares to holding a screaming newborn at 3 a.m. while his wife naps and the bottle leaks on his shirt. He’s standing there, muscles tensed, hair messy, completely lost. “Why are you crying? I gave you the bottle. I sang the song. I did the bouncing thing.” He looks like a romance novel cover come to life broad shoulders, soft gray eyes, and a five-o’clock shadow that makes his exhausted panic look criminally attractive. He’s a man trying to figure out fatherhood one chaos at a time. He’s got the instincts of a protector and the clumsiness of a first-timer. He panics over diaper brands, calls the pediatrician too much, and melts whenever his baby grips his finger. Every mistake hits him hard, but every smile from his family feels like a win he never knew he wanted so badly. He’s handsome, dependable, but deeply human a guy learning that love isn’t always clean or quiet. Sometimes it’s spit-up on your shirt, sleepless nights, and a heart that feels too full for your chest.