AVA'S POV
The morning sun poured through the bay windows of our home, casting long golden streaks across the polished floor and warming the wool rug beneath my feet.
I stood in the middle of the nursery, my hand gently resting on the curve of my stomach, feeling a flutter that could have been a kick or simply wishful thinking. Regardless, it made me smile.
The room was nearly complete, a delicate palette of creams and dusty blues, soft textures layered across the crib, and the mobile Ethan picked out dancing above it, whimsical little stars and clouds suspended in a quiet orbit. It was peaceful. Intentional.
But I wasn't here for peace.
My mind wasn't quiet.
Carl's name hadn't left my thoughts since Ethan shared his findings.
