POV: Sofia
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The first days with Luna were a blur of sleepless nights and endless wonder.
I'd read about it—the exhaustion, the joy, the overwhelming love that consumed you the moment you looked at your child. But reading wasn't the same as living it. Wasn't the same as holding her in my arms, counting her fingers and toes, memorizing the soft curve of her cheeks.
Antonio was worse than me.
He barely slept. Every time Luna made a sound, he was out of bed, checking on her, watching her breathe, hovering like she might disappear if he looked away.
"She's fine," I said at 3 AM, finding him standing over her bassinet. "She's sleeping."
"I know."
"Then come back to bed."
"In a minute."
I wrapped my arms around him, pressed my face to his back.
"She's not going anywhere."
"I know."
