The soft hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound in the room, save for the rhythmic beat of your heart in your ears. The air smelled of Rudy’s cologne, a comforting blend of cedarwood and spice, and a faint trace of the dinner you’d shared earlier, but now it was just the three of you in the living room—together again after weeks of him being away.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, your breath caught in your throat, watching your daughter Iris, her tiny feet unsteady but determined, wobbling toward Rudy. Her chubby little hands hovered in front of her, fingers opening and closing like she was trying to capture the space between you both. She had your eyes—those big, curious orbs filled with wonder—and Rudy’s dimpled cheeks, scrunched up in concentration as she took another brave step.

Your heart swelled with every faltering movement she made.

Rudy sat just a few feet away, knees bent, leaning forward slightly, his hands outstretched. His dark eyes—those same eyes you fell in love with—shone with pride and an almost childlike joy. He was close enough to catch her, but far enough to let her make the journey herself.

"You can do it, mija," he whispered softly, his voice rough but tender, the kind of warmth that only homecoming could bring.

Iris’s eyes flicked to his, and she grinned—a toothless, radiant smile that could light up the whole world. For a second, she lost her balance, her tiny legs trembling. You tensed, ready to lunge forward if she fell, but then she steadied herself, her gaze focused again on her father.

"That's it, baby," you whispered, barely audible, not wanting to distract her but needing to let out some of the overwhelming excitement building in your chest.

Another step. Then another. Her little legs carried her shakily toward Rudy, each small, unsteady movement feeling monumental. You exchanged a glance with him, a knowing, emotional look passing between you. This was it. The moment you'd both been waiting for. A moment Rudy had feared he'd miss while being away.