Her face is a world of wonder, Crafted from stars and dreams. Eyes, blue and boundless as the sky, Shimmer like sunlight beams, Framed by midnight lashes, Dark and infinite. Her tiny nose, a gentle curve, A flaw so intimate, Soft and small, Her perfect mouth With rows of crooked teeth Radiate the purest joy That spark and shine beneath. Her cheeks so soft and tender, Made for peppering with kisses, Hide shadows of your faces past, That mama dearly misses, With beauty like the cosmos A heart that matches too, Your precious face—my favorite Until we bid adieu

Everything comes so easily for you. Your home hums with peace, as though the world itself bends to your comfort. Laughter bursts from you, unguarded and easy, spilling through the gap in your teeth as if you’ve never had to hide it. Your nights are safe, your stomach always full. You’ve never felt that sudden, icy stab of fear for something as small as a spilled drink or a careless word. You’ve never mastered the delicate art of walking on eggshells, your feet never aching from the practice.

You don’t know what it’s like to hold your breath in your room, waiting, listening, dreading the sound of how I shut the door. You’ve never begged for sleep to swallow you, the only refuge from a world that wouldn’t let you rest. No, your life is softer, safer. You fail without fear because you know there’s no price to pay. You’ve never doubted that comfort and security are yours for the asking.

Anger wouldn’t dare inhabit your world. I doubt you’d even recognize it if it stood before you.

“I hope you have a kid, and they turn out just like you,” was spat with icy hatred from the lips of the one who carried me into this world.

But I did. I did have a kid just like me. And the hardest part of loving you is knowing she never did.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Exhaustion pulls at me, heavy and relentless, threatening to drag me under. My skin glistens, damp with the proof of my efforts. The machine above me hums in steady rhythm, its sound a haunting lullaby—a reminder of where I am. My muscles throb, my breath trembles, and the air feels thick with waiting. The only other sound is the faint rustle of scrubs moving around me.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. The rhythm quickens, echoing the pounding of my heart. Tears blur my vision, and panic surges through my veins. My throat feels raw, coated in sandpaper, while the questions pressing against my mind remain trapped behind my leaden tongue. A soft whimper escapes me as my eyes dart around the room.

Fluorescent lights glare down, sharp and unkind, as the metallic tang of antiseptic mingles with the unmistakable scent of blood. My blood. Warmth seeps between my legs, spreading across the scratchy sheets beneath me. It feels endless, unstoppable. My chest tightens, every breath shallow and jagged.

Silence. Deafening, suffocating silence. The sound of the machine drowned out by the roaring in my ears, my body bracing for the scream I feel building.

And then—you.

Your cry shatters the stillness, sharp and glorious. Relief crashes over me in a tidal wave, leaving me gasping. A flurry of movement surrounds me, voices rising, hands working. A sob breaks free from my lips as warmth is placed against my chest.

You. Writhing, wailing, utterly alive. Tears blur my vision as I cradle you, feeling your tiny body press against mine. All the pain, all the exhaustion, disappears. The lights above seem dim compared to the glow of you in my arms.

I look down, my breath catching. There you are—7 pounds, 1 ounce of perfect.

You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You’ve caused me so much pain, yet the love I feel for you blinds me of it!

The smell of him surrounds me—Earl Grey with a hint of spice. Warm breath tickles my ear as he leans in to whisper, “I love you.” His hard body presses against mine, effortlessly gliding me around the room. Etta James’ “At Last” floats through the air, wrapping us in its melody. My mind drifts, consumed by him, by us.

An hour has passed since the sun sank beyond the horizon, and our daughter sleeps soundly in her bed upstairs. I allow myself a moment for the world to fade away.

Reveling in the feeling of his hand pressed against my lower back, I sink deeper into him. A contented sigh gently leaves my lips, and a soft chuckle rumbles through his chest. He pulls me tighter, and I rest my head against his shoulder.

His fingers brush a stray curl behind my ear, lips pressing softly to my forehead as he mumbles, “Forever.”

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my haze. I suck in a sharp breath, my eyes fluttering open as reality crashes down, heavy and suffocating.

The ballroom around me still stands, though silent and empty now. The chandelier overhead casts a flickering light across the oak floors, their once-polished surface now aged with time. Heavy, flowing curtains frame large floor-to-ceiling windows where rain gently taps against them, each droplet echoing the ache in my chest. Goosebumps prickle my arms, a reminder of the warmth that used to fill this room.

The wooden chair creaks beneath my shifting weight. I straighten my black dress, smoothing the creases with wrinkled hands. The room that had witnessed so many of our shared moments—so much laughter and love—now stands empty and silent.

A soft knock sounds again, and I turn to see my daughter in the doorway. Her figure is framed by the gray light of the gloomy day outside. Her eyes are wide, filled with concern, and her small voice cracks the silence. “Mom… It’s time.”

I glance at her, nodding slowly. “I’ll be there in a moment, love.”

I turn back toward the room. Every memory of the life we shared together floods me. The scent of his cologne, the sound of his booming laugh, the warmth of his touch—all leaving a hollow ache in the pit of my stomach.

The thud of my cane echoes in the empty room as I make my way to the door. The sound of the rain grows louder as we step past the threshold. My daughter speaks, but her words are lost to the ringing in my ears. The lock clicks into place as the rain picks up, and with my voice barely a whisper, I say, “And ever.”