Aria's POV
I caught my reflection in the mirror longer than usual that evening, studying the changes motherhood had left behind — softer curves, faint marks along my stomach, a body that felt, some days, like it belonged to someone I was still getting reacquainted with.
Damien found me like that, arms circling my waist from behind, his chin resting against my shoulder as he studied our joined reflection.
"You're doing the thing again," he said gently.
"What thing?"
"The thing where you look at yourself like you're searching for flaws instead of simply seeing what's actually there." His hands slid slowly over the changes I'd been studying so critically, reverent rather than assessing. "Every mark here tells a story I happen to find extraordinary. Our daughter. The proof of everything y
