Before we knew it, three years had passed.
On a late autumn afternoon, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, filling the living room with warmth.
Our daughter lay on the play mat, reaching determinedly for a stuffed toy sitting just out of reach. When she failed to grab it, she did not fuss. She simply rolled onto her back and babbled happily at the chandelier overhead.
I sat nearby flipping through a magazine, glancing up at her every so often.
A sound came from the entrance. Arthur was home. After changing his shoes, he walked in, leaned down to kiss me, then crouched beside our daughter.
The moment she saw him, her entire face lit up. She immediately began crawling toward him as fast as her little hands and knees could manage.
Arthur scooped her up and lifted her
