Stella
Greece did not feel like a vacation. Not this time. Not with a newborn.
Not with security trailing us like shadows. Not with the memory of a hospital still tucked behind my ribs, close enough to sting when I breathed too deeply.
And yet... the first time I stepped onto the terrace overlooking the sea, the wind hit my face and I forgot—just for a second—that I'd spent the past month bracing for disaster.
The air here tasted different. Salt and stone and something sun-warmed. It curled through my hair and loosened a knot in my shoulders that I hadn't been able to touch in weeks.
Caspian stood at the railing, shifting our daughter carefully from one shoulder to the other, adjusting her head with the kind of precision that would have made me laugh if I wasn't too tired to form the
