The road back to the ranch feels different.
Maybe it’s just the sun beginning to sink behind the mountains, painting everything gold, or maybe it’s the new weight — heavy and light at the same time — that I carry inside me. Not just in my body. In my chest. In the way I breathe.
Marco drives in silence, but it’s a comfortable silence. Every now and then, he looks at me as if he’s still checking whether I’m real. As if he’s afraid to wake up.
I hold the ultrasound photos with exaggerated care, as if they’re too fragile to exist outside that glossy paper.
Two.
I still can’t believe it.
— You’re very quiet — he says softly.
— I’m trying to catch up with my own life — I reply, offering a small smile.
He laughs. A short, emotional laugh.
— Welcome to the club.
When the ranch comes int
