In the days that followed, something inside him shifted. He stopped trying to win arguments and started trying to listen. He replaced excuses with effort.
He was there for every early morning feeding, every diaper change in the middle of the night, every moment our daughter cried and needed soothing.
We didn’t become perfect. We became real.
When he holds our daughter now, I sometimes catch him staring at her with tears in his eyes. His voice trembles when he says softly, “I almost lost both of you.”
Those words don’t bring back what pride stole, but they remind us both of what nearly slipped away.
What Love Truly Means
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