I pull the blankets up to my chin, listening to the familiar sounds of our home: the click of the coffee maker down the hall, the quiet clatter of dishes, the refrigerator door opening and closing.
A few months ago, I was lying in a sterile hospital bed, alone and in agony from a car accident. Today, I’m wrapped in soft linens, smelling the fresh aroma of dark roast drifting into the room, carrying a secret miracle inside me.
The sheer contrast makes my chest ache with a sudden, overwhelming gratitude.
When Locke returns a few minutes later, he's carrying a tray. It holds a steaming cup of coffee, a freshly toasted bagel stacked with cream cheese, and sliced strawberries on a plate.
"Look at you," I tease, pushing myself up into a sitting position against the plush headboard. "Room s
