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When a child was born, it felt like being given a piece of your heart that you never knew was missing.

Holding them in your arms was like experiencing pure joy for the first time.

Every coo, every smile, and every tiny milestone felt like a ray of sunshine. It was as if your whole world had shifted, making everything suddenly make sense.

I had no idea it was possible to feel so wrecked and so full all at once. My body ached like it had run a marathon barefoot uphill, but in my arms, pressed close to my chest and still sticky with the mess of birth, was the most perfect, pink, squirmy little boy I had ever seen.

Our son.

He was wrinkled and crying his little lungs out—but to me, he was perfect. My heart did this ridiculous flip, like it had grown wings just to cradle him better. I laughed and sobbed at the same time, tears soaking my cheeks, and I held him like I’d been waiting my whole life to do exactly that.

Damien sat beside me on the hospital bed, somehow managing to look both stunned and smitten, like he’d just met a tiny god. His eyes were red, not from lack of sleep, but from crying—something he swore he didn’t do. But here we were.

“He’s got your nose,” he whispered, brushing a fingertip over our baby’s cheek with gentleness.

I laughed, exhausted. “Poor thing.”

Damien grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to my temple. “He’s lucky. You’ve got a beautiful nose.”

“So, what are we calling him?”

Damien traced a finger along the baby’s tiny fist. “I was thinking…maybe Leo.”

I looked down at him. Strong little fingers. Quiet but fierce. Bright and burning.

“Leo,” I whispered. “Like the lion.”

“Yes,” Damien said. “Fierce. Brave. A little dramatic.”

“Like his father?”

“Like his mother,” he said without missing a beat. “The woman who didn’t even scream until hour seven. I’ve never been more terrified or more in awe in my life.”

“You, terrified? Impossible.” I let out a soft laugh, then leaned my head against his shoulder. “But Leo Yezhov it is.”

Before another word came out of my mouth, a flurry of energy and perfume swept into the room. My mom.

Her cheeks were damp, her smile wider than I’d seen in years.

She looked vibrant, alive, and a few years younger than before the transplant.

I could still see the marks of malnourishment on her collarbone, peeking out from her blouse.

She was a perfect miracle wrapped in mom jeans and lip gloss. Thanks to Damien.

She came to my side and cupped my face with both hands. Her eyes were puffy, red from crying, and maybe still a little tired. But they were alive. Bright. Warm.

“Look at you,” she whispered. “ Mi nina . You’re a mother now.”

That soft heart of mine didn’t stand a chance. I shook my head, voice catching. “I missed you so much.”

She blinked, confused. “I’m right here, sweetie.”

“No,” I said, swallowing hard. “I mean…during the transplant. When you were sick, and we didn’t know if you’d make it.

I’d talk to you in my head all the time, like…

like if I thought loud enough, maybe it would keep you here.

Jasper and I—we were scared all the time, though we tried not to talk too much about it. It was so heavy.”

Mom’s eyes filled again, and she touched her chest. “Baby….”

“I needed you then,” I said, looking from her to Nana. Jasper wasn’t here yet, but I had a feeling he’d be arriving shortly. “And now you’re all here. With this tiny miracle, and my husband. I just…I don’t know what I did to deserve this moment, but I’ll never stop being thankful for it.”

My mom squealed at Leo’s cuteness.

“Oh, look at him!” she gasped, her voice already cracking. “Give him to me.”

“Mama, I just pushed him out. Can I have, like, two more minutes?” I held him a little tighter.

She laughed through her tears, sitting on the edge of the bed like she’d done it a hundred times. “Fine, fine. But I’m going to rock him to sleep every night until he’s eighteen.”

“Seventeen,” Damien said. “After that, he gets his own alarm clock and therapy.”

We all laughed. Jasper burst into the room next, holding a balloon shaped like a dinosaur, a snack tray, and a gift bag that definitely came from the hospital gift shop.

“Is he here? Is he—oh, my God, he’s so tiny! You made him?” He pointed at me like I was some kind of magician.

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess I did. He’s real.”

He leaned in to get a better look and whispered, “He smells like cheese.”

“He’s a baby, not a snack,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “And you’ll be fourteen soon. Haven’t you ever seen a newborn baby before?”

“Uh, why should I randomly see newborn babies?”

And just like that, the room filled with voices and laughter, love and overlapping conversations. Someone turned on music— Jasper , against the hospital’s instructions, but Damien was a force in motion that glared them away.

Someone else took five hundred photos— Mama.

Nana brought in food we weren’t supposed to have, and, after a while, Damien gave me a silent nod before exiting the room to give me time with my family.

“I think he just tried to punch me,” I whispered to no one in particular.

“Already takes after his uncle,” my brother said from the corner, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“You were the same,” My mom said, her voice thick with emotion. “First thing you did when they put you on my chest was sneeze in my face. Like, ‘Hi, Mom, here’s a germ bomb.’”

“Classic Elena,” my brother added, tossing a grape into his mouth from the snack tray.

I looked over at my Nana. She was in the little armchair near the window, wrapped in her favorite lavender shawl even though it was barely cold in the room. Her eyes were soft and shining.

“He’s beautiful, Elena,” she said. “Looks just like your dad when he was born. Same serious face, like he’s already judging us all.”

Our wonderful laughter echoed off the hospital walls, and Leo blinked sleepily up at me, his crying finally fading into quiet coos.

“You’ve got a whole village, little man,” I whispered to him. “A weird, loving, loud village. You’re gonna be just fine.”

A loving village without Katya in it.

She would’ve been his godmother and half-sister if things were still alright between us, but as Damien would say, “We have to move forward in life. Time’s waiting for nobody.”

I smiled at him through the doors, telling myself we were going to be okay in the end. And for the first time in a while, I believed it.