It happened on the fourteenth night.
The last night of the two weeks.
Not planned — Rowan did not consult the timeline Cole had established. But at nine in the evening the small person had been fed and held and had made a series of opinions known at considerable volume and had then — with the absolute conviction of someone who has decided something — simply gone to sleep.
And stayed.
Hour by hour.
Darius and I at the river window, the bond monitoring the third frequency with the specific attention of new parents who had been woken at two-hour intervals for five months and were not yet able to fully trust the quiet.
Midnight.
The third frequency warm and steady.
Asleep.
One in the morning.
Still.
Still asleep.
At two Darius said: "Is this—"
"Don't say it," I said.
"I wasn't go
