Some days are still uncertain.
There are still questions I don’t have answers to.
About my body.
About the future.
About what comes next.
But they don’t feel as heavy as they used to.
They don’t define me the way I once thought they would.
Because for the first time—
I’m not trying to figure out my entire life before I let myself have it.
I’m just… living it.
???
Logan
Two Years Later
“I can hear you,” I call out, leaning against the hallway wall. I pretend I’m not listening for every small sound in the house.
A muffled giggle gave them away immediately.
I take my time anyway and allow Harper to think she’s winning even when she isn’t.
“Hmm,” I mutter, stepping more heavily than I need to down the hall. “House got real quiet all of a sudden…”
Another giggle. Softer this time. Like they’re trying to hold it in.
I shake my head, a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth before I can stop it, warmth blooming in my chest at how easily their joy pulls at me.
They’re terrible at hiding, but I let it stretch a second longer. Let them have it. Then I reach for the handle and pull the door to the closet open.
“Found you!”
Harper shrieks immediately, scrambling toward me like she didn’t just give herself away, her laughter loud and unfiltered as I catch her mid-step and haul her up into my arms.
“Daddy! No fair!”
“You’re the one laughin’,” I say, lifting her higher like she weighs nothing.
Dani’s still on the floor of the closet, half tucked behind her hanging clothes, her hand covering her mouth like that’s going to hide the smile breaking through anyway.
“You’re worse than she is,” I tell her.
She lowers her hand, eyes bright. “I was being quiet.”
“Sure you were.”
I reach down with my free arm, catching her around the waist. I pull her up with us. For a second it’s just the three of us: Harper laughing without restraint, Dani half protesting, and me, my chest tight with overwhelming gratitude, my arms full in a way that still feels unreal some days.
I spin them once. Harper squeals. Dani laughs into my shoulder, her grip tightening instinctively, and something in my chest settles in that quiet, solid way it does when I realize, again—
