Chloe was exhausted and sometimes overwhelmed, so we made room for rest, medical checkups, and support.

The smallest tasks took more time than I expected: warming a bottle as advised, folding blankets, finding the right burp cloth in a drawer full of identical ones.

Oliver cared nothing about the Harrington estate or courtroom schedules.

He demanded attention with the magnificent confidence of a newborn.

At night, while Chloe slept, I sometimes sat in the rocking chair holding him.

I remembered the day I brought Chloe home from the hospital twenty-four years earlier.