Chapter 29
That night, the gentle rhythm of the day—dinner and a soothing hot shower—gave way to quiet anticipation. Carter was out with friends, leaving Sarah alone in the comfortable stillness of their home. As she often did when he was gone, she settled into the rocking chair in the newly finished nursery.
She had just closed the book on “Rumpelstiltskin,” the familiar fairy tale now a lullaby shared between them. Her hand instinctively traced soft, small circles across the curve of her belly, acknowledging the little nudges and presses of a tiny head or foot against her skin.
She leaned in, a tender smile touching her lips, and whispered to the life she carried, her voice barely a breath:
“Aga-ya, got isseumyeon mannalgeoda. Geoganghage eomma baesoge jal jarajuryeom.” (Baby, we wil
