Layla’s POV
Two months passed in a blink, and somehow, everything in my life began to resolve around a tiny human who barely weighed anything but carried my entire world on his chest and eyes.
Drey, my son.
Every morning, I would wake up before the sun, not because I had to, but because I wanted to, just to watch him breathe. His chest rose and fell softly, his lips puckered like he was always in the middle of a thought.
Some days I cried looking at him. Other days, I laughed for no reason at all.
I had never felt this full. Not rich-full, not success-full.
Naomi took her godmother role way too seriously.
“She needs to burp him after feeding,” she’d tell Belinda like she was issuing military commands. “And don’t let her skip meals, she thinks coffee counts as food.”
Belinda moved
