Chapter Twenty-Six
The year turns without ceremony.
No countdowns, no champagne—just a quiet morning where sunlight stretches across the floor and Noah’s breathing keeps time beside me. I wake before him and lie still, listening to the ordinary miracle of a life that no longer feels like it’s waiting to begin.
Outside, winter loosens its grip. The snow has melted into memory, leaving behind damp sidewalks and early signs of green. Spring is on its way again, patient and sure.
I slip out of bed and make coffee, the familiar ritual grounding me. When Noah joins me in the kitchen, hair unruly, eyes soft with sleep, he wraps his arms around my waist from behind.
“Morning, wife,” he says.
I smile every time. “Morning, husband.”
We stand like that for a moment, watching steam rise, nothin
