CHAPTER 39

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting soft, golden hues on the nursery walls. Ember's crib stood quietly in the corner, the plush toys around it untouched. I stared at her for a moment as I lay in bed, savoring the peace before the storm of the day began.

Her tiny cries pierced the stillness, and I smiled despite myself. The sound was all too familiar now, and though it tugged at my heart, it was a reminder of why I fought so hard to get here, to be the one to give her a safe, loving world—away from the lies and hurt that Alexander had woven around me.

I dragged myself out of bed, the weight of exhaustion already settling into my bones. My body was still recovering from the delivery, the healing process far from over. But there was no choice; Ember needed me, and I wasn't about to let her down.

I padded over to her crib, my feet cold against the floorboards. Ember's face was scrunched in frustration, her little hands reaching for the air.

"Hey, baby girl," I murmured softly, leaning down to lift her out of the crib. Her soft, warm body settled into my arms as I adjusted her to my chest. She let out a small grunt, and I chuckled softly.

"Good morning to you too," I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

I cradled her close, walking toward the changing table. As I began to change her diaper, her tiny hands grasped at my fingers, and I marveled at how much life and personality could already be seen in such a small person. Her eyes—those deep, piercing eyes—stared up at me, and I felt the weight of my own feelings swirling inside me. There was something in her gaze, a reflection of the bond we shared that transcended everything else.

"How did I get so lucky?" I whispered to her as I finished changing her, before gently setting her back in the crib to put on her clothes.

As I began preparing her bottle, I noticed the faintest sound coming from her room—a gentle gurgling noise mixed with little squeaks of joy. She was already content, which made everything feel worthwhile, even when the exhaustion began to gnaw at me.

Feeding Ember was always a special moment for me. Watching her eyes slowly close as she drank, hearing her tiny gulps, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, it made the entire world seem like it was slowing down just for us. I settled into the armchair by the window, my own eyes growing heavy as the lull of motherhood pulled at me.

I could almost forget, in these moments, the pain of what Alexander had done to me. Almost.

Ember finished her bottle, letting out a satisfied sigh, and I gently burped her before cradling her back to my chest. I stood up, walking to the window to peer out at the morning. The sun was climbing higher now, but everything still felt so quiet.

After about an hour, Ember began to stir again. I smiled and rocked her gently in my arms, humming a song I remembered from my childhood. She drifted off to sleep, and I leaned back against the couch, holding her close, finally able to catch my breath.

Just as I thought I might close my own eyes for a few minutes, the front doorbell rang, startling me. I groaned softly. Not expecting anyone, I stood slowly, trying not to jostle Ember too much.

"One sec!" I called out as I carefully placed her in the crib, keeping the blanket tucked tightly around her.

I peeked through the peephole and saw Sarah standing on the other side. I opened the door with a sigh of relief, smiling when I saw her face.

"Good morning, mama," she said, looking at me with that ever-present concern in her eyes.

"Sarah, you're a lifesaver," I said, stepping aside to let her in.

"I brought coffee," she said, holding up a takeout cup, "and I've got a bunch of things for Ember. I thought you could use a hand."

I could have cried right there in the doorway. I hadn't realized just how much I needed someone else to step in and help.

"I swear, you're a godsend," I muttered, taking the coffee from her hands. "Please tell me you're staying for a while."

"Of course," she said, already kicking off her shoes and making her way toward the nursery. "I've got a couple of hours before I need to head back to the café. Let me take over for a while. You look like you haven't slept in days."

"That's because I haven't," I replied, shaking my head as I took a long sip of the coffee.

Sarah gave me an amused glance as she walked toward the crib. "I'm not even surprised. You've been running on empty since you found out you were pregnant."

"I was running on fumes before that," I muttered.

She laughed, but there was a hint of worry in her eyes as she looked at me. "You're doing great, you know."

I felt a flicker of guilt, but I hid it behind a small smile. "Thanks. I just wish it didn't feel so overwhelming sometimes."

"You'll get there," she said, her voice full of understanding. "Trust me, I know it feels like everything is a million times harder than it should be, but it'll pass. You'll find your rhythm."

I nodded, not entirely convinced, but I didn't have the energy to argue. Instead, I sat back and watched as Sarah effortlessly took over with Ember. She talked to her softly as she changed the baby's diaper and then began humming a lullaby while gently rocking her.

It was such a simple thing, but it meant the world to me. Watching Sarah care for Ember like this was a reminder that, even though Alexander wasn't here, I had people who truly cared for us. People who wouldn't walk away when things got tough.

"Thank you," I whispered, my throat tightening.

Sarah smiled warmly, glancing over at me. "You don't have to thank me. This is what friends do."

I smiled back, but the truth of it hit me harder than I expected. People like Sarah were what I needed, not people like Alexander. The thought of him made a cold chill run through me. He was nothing but a stain on my past now, a chapter I couldn't undo, no matter how much I wanted to. But Ember—she was my future.

We spent the next couple of hours in a quiet, comfortable routine. Sarah fed Ember while I cleaned up a bit around the apartment, the warmth of the coffee finally beginning to work its magic. As the afternoon wore on, I found myself feeling less frazzled, the weight of exhaustion lifted by Sarah's help.

Finally, Ember drifted back into a nap, and Sarah and I took a break. We sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea and talking about everything and nothing at all.

"You know," Sarah began, looking over at me with a playful grin, "one of these days you're going to have to go out and do something for yourself. You can't keep hiding in here forever."

"I'm not hiding," I said, defensive. "I just need to focus on Ember right now."

"I get that. But you can't forget to take care of you, too," she replied.

I knew she was right, but for now, all I cared about was Ember. I wasn't ready to think about anything else yet.

As the sun began to set and Sarah prepared to leave, I felt a bittersweet emptiness in my chest. The house was peaceful with Ember resting in the nursery, but the silence left too much room for my own thoughts.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Sarah said, giving me one last hug before heading out the door.

"I will. Thanks for today," I said, giving her a tired smile.

After she left, I stood by the window, watching the world outside. For the first time in a long while, I felt like things might be okay. But deep down, I knew there was more I had to do. Alexander had to pay for everything he had done. This calm before the storm wouldn't last forever.

And when the time came, I would be ready. For Ember. For me. For everything we both deserved.