*Zara*

I giggled as Briella babbled at me while I tried to brush her hair. Her wavy locks had grown to her ears and would quickly become unruly if I didn’t tame them daily and secure some of the longer wisps with butterfly-shaped hairpins.

“You have your daddy’s hair,” I told Briella wistfully.

My daughter just smiled and reached her chubby hands up toward my face, demanding that I pick her up.

“Alright,” I said softly, indulging the ...