2027 began with a quiet snowfall on New Year’s Day, the kind that muffled the world and made the house feel like a secret kept just for them. Amelia Rose was five months old, a sturdy, laughing bundle who had discovered rolling and was determined to master sitting up. Her world expanded daily—new sounds, new textures, new expressions that made Ethan and Emily dissolve into helpless laughter or tears at the drop of a hat.
Winter passed gently. Snowdays meant extra time by the fire, Amelia bundled in a tiny sweater knitted by Sarah, watching flames dance with wide-eyed fascination. Riverbank Sweets slowed after the holidays, giving Emily long mornings with her daughter—nursing in the rocker, reading board books with crinkly pages, singing the same old hymns that had once been only dreams.
