They spent quiet afternoons imagining their child’s life: first steps on the worn living room carpet, scraped knees in the backyard, school pictures taped to the fridge. Jake dreamed of teaching the baby to ride a bike; Sandra pictured bedtime stories under warm lamplight. Everything felt possible, safe, beautifully certain.
Those memories felt almost unreal now, hazy with sweetness compared to the sharp panic filling the hospital room. Back then, life had felt steady and predictable. She trusted Jake completely, never questioning the foundation they’d built. She had no reason to fear anything, least of all him. But now she couldn’t understand what was happening.