Bruce's POV

I stood in the nursery holding Emma while she slept peacefully against my chest, her tiny body rising and falling with each breath. I could not stop staring at her, memorizing every detail of her perfect face. Counting her fingers over and over like the number might change if I looked away.

She was real. This tiny person was mine and Beverly's, created from love, determination, and survival against impossible odds. The responsibility settled on my shoulders so much but instead of ...