>>Amber
It's been a month since Zola was born, and I've noticed something strange.
Hael hadn't picked her up once.
He always found a reason to stay close but not too close—either letting me hold her or watching from a safe distance, as if she were made of the most delicate glass. Every time Zola would stir in her crib, his eyes would soften with so much affection that it made my heart melt. But no matter how much I encouraged him to hold her, he'd always shake his head, offering a sheepish smile or a flimsy excuse and to avoid it further, he would go to 'work'
Today, I decided enough was enough. I wanted to see my husband hold our daughter.
Zola was resting in her crib, bundled up in a soft blanket, her tiny chest rising and falling as she slept. I looked over at Hael, who was standing nearby, staring at her like she was a sleeping angel. The look on his face—pure love mixed with a hint of worry—made me smile.
"Hael," I called softly.
