Davina's POV
I perched on the corner of Cooper's small bed, my chest tight with conflicting emotions.
Our evening ritual was complete—teeth brushed, his beloved picture book read aloud, and that ridiculous lullaby he insisted on hearing every night.
My precious boy lay nestled in his favorite blue pajamas dotted with tiny yellow stars, the blanket drawn up to his chest while he clutched his beloved stuffed tiger.
I studied him now, this three-year-old who seemed to grow taller each day, his wide, innocent eyes gazing up at me with complete trust—eyes too pure for the conversation I was about to initiate.
"Sweetheart," I began softly, running my fingers through his curly hair, keeping my tone gentle and even, "can Mommy discuss something very important with you?"
Cooper bobbed his head, blinking drowsily yet attentive. His small hand found mine, a gesture he always made when sensing serious conversations ahead.
