Zane stepped out of the NICU with the feeling that his bones had been rearranged. Something about the air in that room had altered the shape of him, softened one part, hardened another, and set something unshakable in the center of his chest. He inhaled slowly, filling his lungs, letting the hum of machines fade behind him. His eyes were still wet, but his steps were different now, firmer and steady, as if his body finally understood the truth he had been avoiding for months.
He was not drifting anymore. He was not lost. He was a father.
