Emily stepped closer to the crib, her attention returning to Zion, her hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing, grounding herself in something real and present.
“I used to think the same,” she said, her voice distant for a moment, touched by memories she rarely spoke of, memories shaped by loss, responsibility, and love that came without guarantees.
Marcus watched her carefully now, not as an employee, but as someone whose experience carried weight, someone who had faced something he had only come close to losing, and survived differently.
“What happened?” he asked, the question leaving his mouth before he could stop it, driven not by curiosity, but by a need to understand the strength he had witnessed.
Emily hesitated briefly, then answered, not dramatically, but simply, as if truth didn’t need embellishment, only honesty to exist fully in the space between them without judgment or expectation.
