Page 33 of Worship Him

Istand outside Destiny's apartment, my anger a barely controlled beast inside me. I take a deep breath. The last thing I want is to meet my child when I’m charged up and ready for a fight.

I exhale and knock.

The door opens, and there she is, looking more fragile than I’ve ever seen her. She steps aside, not meeting my eyes, and I walk in without a word.

Her unique smell hangs in the air, swirling with the scent of baby powder. My nostrils react immediately, sending a jolt of unfamiliar ease through my body.

She leads me down a hallway decorated with framed sketches of clothing designs, their vibrant colors clashing with the tension hanging between us.

We stop at a door painted in soft pastels.

Inside, Avery’s room is a haven of innocence—plush toys, a mobile hanging above the crib, and the faint scent of baby lotion.

Destiny moves to the crib and picks up our daughter. She hesitates for a moment before handing her to me.

Avery's eyes, big, brown, and curious, lock onto me. My heart thuds hard against my chest as I reach out, cradling her tiny form in my arms.

Her warmth seeps into me, melting away layers of anger like mist in the blazing sun.

She’s soft, delicate, and the most precious thing in the world. "Hey there," I murmur, marveling at her small fingers curling around mine.

Avery's gaze shifts between me and Destiny, as if she’s trying to piece together this new presence in her life.

For a moment, it looks like she’s going to cry and my stomach drops. Then she looks at me again, her face calm.

I release the breath I was holding and smile at Avery, my finger caressing her little face.

Her innocence is staggering, an anchor pulling me into this unexpected reality. I swallow hard, a knot around my throat that makes it difficult to breathe.

Is this what it feels like to be a father?

Destiny stands to the side, watching us with an unreadable expression. Her silence speaks volumes. It’s clear she’s unsure how this will go down.

But right now, I don’t care about that. It's just Avery and me.

I rock her gently, feeling an immediate connection that transcends words. She yawns, her tiny mouth opening wide before she nestles closer to my chest. My breath catches; the simplicity of her trust hits me like a freight train.

I sit down in the rocking chair, holding her soft body close to me. Nothing else exists—no betrayal, no anger—just this little girl who has unknowingly changed everything.

The little sounds coming out of her are foreign but soothes my heart. I’ve never heard anything like it, but it immediately brings a smile to my face.

Feeling her gaze on me, I glance up at Destiny briefly, our eyes meeting for the first time since I arrived. She looks relieved but also tense, like she's bracing for impact.

Without speaking, I look back at my child. I realize that there are no words needed right now; Avery’s soft breathing fills the room with a peace I hadn’t expected to find here.

When she shifts in my arms, I look back at her, and time seems irrelevant as I hold her and experience what it’s like to be a father. The room fades away until it's just us.

My daughter and me.

I absorb every detail of her tiny face, the way her eyes flutter as she starts to drift off. Time stretches out in the soft silence of the room.

Destiny moves around quietly, gathering a bottle from a nearby shelf. She glances at me, then at Avery.

“It’s time for her bottle,” she says softly.

I nod, still focused on Avery’s small fingers wrapped around mine. Destiny hands me the bottle, and I carefully shift Avery into a more comfortable position.

“Hold her head up a bit more,” Destiny instructs.

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