"Hey, little love. I know, I know. Let's let Mama sleep, okay?"
Through the monitor, I hear the creak of the rocking chair. Daniel's off-key humming. Harper's cries softening to whimpers.
"Your mom's a superhero, you know. She believed I could be better before I did."
A year ago, I couldn't have imagined this. Him here. Us here.
I close my eyes and drift back to sleep with the sound of his voice reading her the story I created years ago—the paper girl who could fold herselfinto anything.
***
When I wake again at eight, the smell of smoke drifts from the kitchen.
Daniel stands at the stove with Harper strapped to his chest, spatula in hand. Three pancakes in the pan—two definitely burned. Coffee overflows onto the counter.
"I was going to bring you breakfast in bed," he says when he sees me.
I take in the chaos. "How about I take her and you focus on not burning the house down?"
For a split second, I see the old instinct. The need to sayI've got it.
Then: "Yes. Please. I'm drowning."
That admission. That trust.
I unbuckle Harper from the carrier, kiss his cheek. "You're doing great."
"I've burned three pancakes and there's coffee everywhere."
"But you got up with her at six. And four. And two. You're doing great."
We work together—me settling Harper in her bouncer, him salvaging breakfast. Partnership. Every single day.
***
Mid-morning, an email arrives about the Bailey Harper scholarship fund. Five young animators applying. One cover letter stops me cold.
I work retail during the day, coffee shop at night, and pick up gig work on weekends. Animation has always been my dream, but dreams don't pay rent.
That was me. Working at Luna's, pregnant and terrified.
Daniel reads over my shoulder. "You're going to pick her."
"She reminds me of me."
We look at Harper, chewing on a board book.
"She'll never have to work three jobs to chase her dreams," I say quietly.
He kisses my temple. "Pick all five. Fund them all."
"The budget—"
"I'll cover it. This matters."
A year ago, he would have thrown money at problems to control outcomes. Now he's supporting something I built without trying to take over.
I approve all five recipients and write personal notes, remembering what it felt like to be seen.
