Aria slept in my arms, a warm, breathing miracle.
Her breath was a soft, steady tide against my chest. Her hand lay open on my stomach, her fingers curled in a loose, trusting fist in the fabric of my shirt.
I held her closer, a careful, reverent pressure, and pressed my lips to her hair, breathing her in.
The truth washed over me once more, a wave so powerful it left me gasping.
Aria was pregnant.
The words echoed in the silent room, a sacred mantra. She is pregnant. She is carrying our child.
Our child. A part of her. A part of me. Fused into a single, new life.
Something deep within my soul splintered open, a sealed vault I never knew existed, flooding with a light so brilliant it was blinding.
This was not the first time.
