Page 74 of Better as It

And she walks away.

We stand there for a long time. Dia doesn’t cry.

Neither do I.

Benjamin stirs, small and quiet.

I look down at him.

And I know.

The future doesn’t live in the past.

It lives here—in our arms.

We get home and settle in. I hold Benjamin while Dia showers. He’s finally quiet, fed and swaddled and blinking slowly at the world like it’s too big to take in all at once.

I sit in the rocker in the nursery and hum something under my breath. A lullaby I didn’t even know I remembered until he was born.

He rests one tiny hand against my chest.

I cover it with mine.

“I’ll protect you,” I whisper. “With every breath I’ve got.”

Dia walks in, towel wrapped around her hair, one of my shirts draped over her swollen postpartum belly. She leans in the doorway and watches us.

“You okay?” she asks.

I nod. “Yeah. Better now.”

She crosses the room, presses a kiss to my temple, and kneels beside me.

“Our family starts here,” she says, her hand joining mine over Benjamin’s.

And I believe her.

Because we’ve already walked through fire.

And come out holding love.

TWENTY

DIA

Like a bear protecting its cubs, fiercely guard your dreams and aspirations." — Unknown

The cancer centersmells like bleach and peppermint gum.

Toon stands next to me in the hallway, one hand resting on the stroller handle, the other in mine. He’s wearing his favorite worn-out hoodie, and his eyes are tired—but his shoulders are straight, and his skin doesn’t look as gray as it did last month.

This is his final treatment.

Final.

God, I can barely believe it.

Benjamin’s chewing on his fist in the stroller, wide-eyed like he knows this day matters. Maybe he does. Maybe some part of him remembers all the times we sat in these halls, waiting for his dad to come out pale and worn down and stubborn as hell.

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