I stood up and stretched, my shoulders finally free of the tension that had held them tight since New Year’s Eve.
I walked down the quiet hallway to the nursery.
The room was warm, the radiator in the corner keeping the winter chill at bay.
In the center of the room stood the white wicker bassinet, its sides clean and bright.
Liam lay inside, wrapped in his cotton swaddle, his small chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.
Maya was standing beside the bassinet, her hand resting gently on the wooden railing.
She looked up as I entered, her face soft in the dim light of the nursery lamp.
“He is finally asleep,” she whispered.
I stepped close to her and wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her against my side.
She rested her head against my shoulder, her breathing matching mine.
The room was quiet, the only sound the soft breathing of our son.
