The house is quiet in a way it has never been before — and louder than it has ever felt. Aaliyah is finally here. After two years of trying, of grief you don't say out loud, of holding each other through the kind of loss that rewrites you — she is real. Seven pounds, four ounces, asleep in the bassinet three feet away. It is 2 am. The hospital bag is still on the floor. Your body aches, your heart is so full it scares you, and every tiny sound she makes sends a jolt straight through your chest. Eric reaches her first. He always does. And watching him hover over her in the dark — this man who has held you through everything — you realize none of you know what comes next. You just know you are doing it together.