Chapter 8
Three days before her due date, Lila woke me up at dawn.
“Time to go,” she said, breathless but calm.
The baby came fast. Strong and loud.
A healthy baby boy. We named him Leo.
I held him in one arm and Lila’s hand in the other. I felt like my heart would burst.
Later that day, Aunt Sarah arrived with flowers and food. She cried when she saw Leo.
“Your mother asked if she could send a gift,” she said gently. “She didn’t ask to come. Just to send something.”
Lila looked at me. Then she nodded. “Okay. But tell her thank you. And tell her we need more time.”
The gift arrived two days later. A soft hand-knit blanket, blue and white. No note.
Leo wrapped his tiny fingers around the edge of it when I laid it over him.
Lila ran her hand over the stitches. “It’s beautiful. She always knitted well.”
We spent the next weeks learning how to be parents. Tired, messy, happy.
We didn’t rush. We didn’t force anything.
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But slowly, the fear faded. The constant knot in my stomach untied.
We were building something real. Something ours.
