I took three clear photos of his handwriting in the bottom margin before sliding the desk drawer shut.

The quiet in the penthouse was heavy, broken only by the low electric hum of the bottle warmers on the marble kitchen counters.

In the nursery, Noah slept on his side with his blanket pulled up to his chin, his forehead finally cool under my palm.

Lily stirred when I picked her up, her small fingers catching the wool edge of my cardigan before she settled against my shoulder.

I packed two canvas travel bags with formula cans, infant fever drops, four sets of cotton onesies, and their pediatric medical records.