If someone had told me a year ago that I would end this chapter of my life cradling my daughter in my arms, surrounded by warmth instead of fear, I would've laughed.
Or cried.
Or both.
But life has a funny way of surprising you after it breaks you apart.
I stared down at Eliana and felt my heart soar in my chest.
Three weeks had passed since we were discharged. Three weeks of adjusting. Healing. Learning how to hold a baby without feeling like she was made of glass. Three weeks of watching Jace stumble through fatherhood with a mix of awe and panic that made me laugh even when my body still ached.
And tonight…
Tonight felt different.
The house was softer somehow. More alive. The lights were warm. The air smelled faintly of roasted garlic — Donna had insisted on making dinner with the chef. "To celebrate life," she'd said simply.
Life.
What a word.
