POV: Sofia
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Six weeks in, Luna smiled.
Not the reflexive gas smiles of a newborn. A real smile. Directed at Antonio, who was making faces at her while I changed her diaper.
I froze. "Did she just—"
"She smiled." Antonio's voice was wonderstruck. "Sofia, she smiled at me."
I watched him pick her up, hold her close, press his face to her hair.
"She smiled at you," I agreed.
"She smiled at me."
He was crying. I'd seen Antonio cry twice—once when we reconciled, once when Luna was born. This was the third time.
I crossed to them, wrapped my arms around both of them.
"She knows her father."
"I want to frame this moment." He laughed, wet. "I want to remember it forever."
"Write it down. Take a picture. Whatever you need." I kissed his cheek. "But she's going to smile again. A lot.
