When I Returned from the Hospital with Our Newborn, My Husband Had Changed the Locks – Twenty Hours Later, He Showed Up, Pounding and Screaming

And my throat closed.

The room wasn’t magazine-perfect. It wasn’t staged for a photo. It was perfect for us. Soft gray and blush tones. White furniture. A rocking chair in the corner with a lamp and a little table. Shelves lined with books and stuffed animals arranged with careful hands, not stylish hands. Loving hands.

Above the crib, in hand-painted letters, it read: Welcome, Little One.

I started crying so hard my knees went weak.

Ray stood in the doorway watching me with wet eyes, his face tight with something like shame and pride braided together.

“You did this?” I whispered.

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