A YEAR LATER
Amara Denz
The nursery was lavender soft, tiny white stars sprinkled on the ceiling. Amara Denz rocked gently back and forth in the wooden rocker; her gaze fixed on the crib where her newborn daughter slept. The baby's tiny fingers wrapped around the edge of the mattress, skin still soft and sweet with new-baby innocence. Amara's heart ached with a love that surprised her, a love that was overwhelming and terrifying.
Leo stood in the doorway, watching her. His shirt was rumpled from the night before, his hair dishevelled. He'd been helping with the middle-of-the-night feedings, despite his work schedule. Amara experienced a rush of gratitude alongside something more bitter—resentment that their picture-perfect family required so much endless effort.
"She's beautiful," Leo
