“Yes, baby,” I said, kissing his forehead. “Daddy is coming.”

The hospital room was quiet, save for the hum of the monitor in the hallway.

Outside, the gray morning light filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the floor.

Twenty minutes later, the heavy door to the room swung open.

Daniel stood in the doorway, his coat wet from the rain, his hair damp and messy.

He was carrying a thick, faded blue folder under his arm.

His tie was loosened, and his eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with dark circles.

He looked at me, then at the two boys curled against my sides.

He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, the wood creaking under his weight.

He didn’t say a word at first.

He just reached out and touched Lucas’s cheek, his fingers trembling slightly.

“I found it,” Daniel said, his voice barely a whisper.

He opened the blue folder and pulled out a single sheet of heavy cream paper.

It was covered in Evelyn’s elegant, slanted handwriting.

“Read it,” he said, placing it in my lap.