GINA’S POV
The next morning, I stirred awake to the gentle pressure of tiny fingers prodding my cheek. A warm puff of breath brushed my skin as Bernard’s sleepy voice mumbled, “Mommy… I’m hungry.”
My heart swelled instantly, the way it always did when he was near. I blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains and turned to see him curled beside me, his lashes fluttering, his cheeks still flushed with sleep.
For one perfect moment, the world was just us—his small body pressed against mine, the familiar scent of baby shampoo lingering in his curls, the quiet rhythm of his breathing. No hospital rooms. No needles. No fear.
Just my boy.
I pulled him close, kissing the top of his head before slipping out of bed. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s get you some breakfast,
