POV: Sofia
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The first days with Luna were a blur of sleepless nights and endless wonder.
I'd read about it—the exhaustion, the joy, the overwhelming love that consumed you the moment you looked at your child. But reading wasn't the same as living it. Wasn't the same as holding her in my arms, counting her fingers and toes, memorizing the soft curve of her cheeks.
Antonio was worse than me.
He barely slept. Every time Luna made a sound, he was out of bed, checking on her, watching her breathe, hovering like she might disappear if he looked away.
"She's fine," I said at 3 AM, finding him standing over her bassinet. "She's sleeping."
"I know."
"Then come back to bed."
"In a minute."
I wrapped my arms around him, pressed my face to his back.
"She's not going anywhere."
"I know." His voice was rough. "I just—I can't believe she's real. That we made her. That she's ours."
I turned him to face me. "She's real. She's ours. And she's not going anywhere."
He kissed me—soft, grateful—and let me lead him back to bed.
---
ANTONIO
I'd never been afraid of anything.
Guns. Knives. Men who wanted me dead. None of it had ever scared me the way Luna did.
She was so small. So fragile. Every time I held her, I was terrified I'd break her. Every time she cried, I was sure something was wrong. Every time she slept too long, too still, I had to check that she was still breathing.
"She's fine," Sofia said for the hundredth time. "She's perfect. You're not going to break her."
"What if I do?"
"You won't." She put Luna in my arms. "Hold her. Breathe. She needs you, Antonio. Not the protector. Not the soldier. Just you."
I looked at my daughter—at her dark hair, her tiny fingers, her eyes that were already starting to look like mine.
"Hey," I whispered. "I'm your father. I'm going to figure this out. I promise."
Luna yawned. I fell in love all over again.
---
SOFIA
The visitors came in waves.
Sasha first, with her own baby bump and a basket of onesies. "You look terrible," she said cheerfully. "That's normal."
"Thanks."
"She's beautiful." Sasha looked at Luna, sleeping in her bassinet. "Really beautiful. You did good."
"We did good."
"Marco's already planning their wedding. He thinks it's a boy."
I laughed. "He's got a while to wait."
"She's going to be a heartbreaker." Sasha squeezed my hand. "But she's also going to be strong. Look at her mother."
I looked at Luna, at her peaceful face, at the life we'd created.
"She's going to have everything we didn't," I said quietly.
"She will. Because you're going to give it to her."
---
ANTONIO
Carlo came on the fourth day.
He was walking without the cane now, his face healed, his eyes clear. When he saw Luna, something in his expression shifted—softened, opened, became something I hadn't seen before.
"Can I hold her?" he asked.
I looked at Sofia. She nodded.
I put Luna in Carlo's arms, watched him cradle her like something precious.
"Hey," he whispered. "I'm your uncle. I'm going to spoil you rotten. Your parents are going to hate me, but I don't care."
Sofia laughed, tears in her eyes. "We already hate you."
"No you don't." Carlo looked at her. "You love me. That's why I get to be the favorite uncle."
"You're the only uncle."
"Even better."
He held Luna for a long time, talking to her about nothing and everything. When he finally gave her back, his eyes were wet.
"She's perfect," he said. "You two did something right."
"We had help," I said. "From a lot of people. Including you."
Carlo looked at me, surprised. "I didn't do anything."
"You helped end the war. You helped keep Sofia safe. You helped make this possible." I met his eyes. "You're part of this family, Carlo. You always will be."
He didn't say anything. Just nodded, wiped his eyes, and let Sofia pull him into a hug.
---
SOFIA
The nights were the hardest.
Luna woke every two hours, hungry, crying, needing something I couldn't always figure out. I fed her, changed her, rocked her, sang to her. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't.
Antonio was there every time. Not hovering he'd learned but present. A hand on my back. A glass of water. A quiet word of encouragement.
"You're doing great," he said one night, after Luna had finally settled.
"I feel like I'm failing."
"You're not. She's fed. She's clean. She's loved. That's what matters."
I leaned against him. "What if I'm not good at this? What if she grows up and realizes I had no idea what I was doing?"
"She's going to grow up knowing she was loved. That's enough." He kissed my forehead. "That's everything."
I closed my eyes, let myself believe it.
---
ANTONIO
I took a month off work.
Marco handled things. The business could wait. The world could wait. What mattered was here—Sofia, Luna, the family we were building.
"You're going soft," Marco said when I told him.
"Probably."
"You're going to spend a month changing diapers and watching cartoons."
"Can't wait."
He laughed. "Call me if you need anything. Or if you change your mind."
"I won't."
I hung up, looked at Sofia and Luna on the couch, and knew—this was where I was supposed to be.