“Is she asleep?” Hal asks, peeking down at your newborn in her crib. Her tiny fists her bunched up by her cheeks as she snoozes.

His heart feels heavy in his chest. Your daughter—his daughter—is perfect. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more amazing than her. There’s a lump in his throat because he loves her so much already.

“She’s so little,” he whispers to you. His eyes are misty. “How’re we supposed deal with her getting bigger?”