I stood at the counter, rolling the stiffness out of my neck. I definitely didn’t sleep well last night. I poured hot water over the tea bag in my mug and rubbed my shoulder. I leaned over the counter onto my elbows and blew the steam from my cup. I took a careful sip, savoring the herbal notes. Everyone was still asleep and these quiet moments alone with my thoughts were cherished.

A lot happened in the last two years. I looked over at the wall across from the counter to sneak a look at my favorite wedding photo. Samuel wore a navy blue suit. I wore a champagne gown. We were in a field of wildflowers and the sun was setting behind us. It was the perfect day. Becoming a stepmother was pretty wonderful. I pick Mason up from school every day and have made it a habit to keep snacks on hand at all times. He likes snacks. We moved into our own house. Something didn’t feel quite right about just moving into his place and so we made the decision to find something we could call ours. Luckily, it wasn’t far from Emma, David, and baby Liv. We just celebrated her second birthday and being a part of her life was something I just couldn’t live without. After all, I’m Aunt Lilah.

I managed to put out three books since then. The last one in particular was very different than my usual writing. It was a love story and although my publisher advised against it, I went forward with it. They thought that given the fact I was established in the thriller genre, it would surely tank. Much to their surprise and mine, my fans loved it. It was the most successful release to date, launching my writing career to the next level.

Everything was, in many ways, completely perfect. I ran my hand over my stomach. Almost everything, anyway. I heard a rustling from down the hall and Mason emerged, rubbing his eyes.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” I said, running my fingers through his messy hair.

“Good morning, Mom,” he said.

Every time he called me “Mom”, I felt a little flutter in my heart. It certainly wasn’t anything Samuel or I had ever asked him to do. He just went to his dad one day and asked if he could. Samuel told him he was pretty sure that would make me very happy and as usual, he was right.

“Want some breakfast, kiddo?” I asked.

“Yes, please. Can I help?” he asked.

“Sure. Want to grab the bread from the pantry for toast?”

Mason walked over to retrieve it and I grabbed the eggs from the fridge. I heard Samuel’s voice just as I was bending down to get the skillet from the cabinet.

“Oh, no, you don’t. I will get that,” he said.

I felt him put his arms around me and I stood back up. He kissed my neck. “You know I’m not broken, right?” I asked. Samuel ran his hand over my rounded belly. I rubbed my hand over it after him.

“No pregnant wife of mine will be bending or stooping or lifting or cooking breakfast while I am here,” he said.

“Oh, now I can’t cook breakfast?” I asked. I turned around to him with my hand on my hip.

“Well, not today you can’t. I want you to sit over there and let me cook for you and the melon,” he said.

Samuel had gotten into the habit of calling the baby fruit this entire pregnancy. First it was a grape, then a lime, then an apple. After the first trimester, she was a mango. Now, approaching our due date, she was a full blown melon.

When we first decided to try, I was completely terrified. But with the reassurance of the doctors and more importantly, of Samuel, my fears eased. After the point in the pregnancy passed when I had lost my first one, my fears eased a little more. It wasn’t until recently that they completely dissolved. We were in the homestretch now, and everything had gone perfectly.

Samuel told me it was what I deserved after all the pain in my life. He said the universe has to balance itself out, that it can’t give you all the bad and it can’t give you all the good. He said given all the bad, I was due for some good. I didn’t know how true all that was, but I decided to trust in my husband’s wisdom.

I sat across the counter from him and watched him crack eggs. He’d grown out some scruff on his jaw and I definitely didn’t hate it. Mason stood by his side ready to start scrambling the eggs with a fork when he was prompted. He was such a great kid.

I rubbed my hands over the top of my round belly and felt a kick. “She kicked!” I said.

Mason ran around the counter and put his hand where mine was. She kicked again. His eyes lit up with excitement. “I can’t wait until she gets here!” he said.

He looked over at the fridge where the calendar was. I had circled the due date for him. We were only eight days away.

I sat here, looking from Samuel’s face to Mason’s and knowing I was eight days away from having everything I had ever wanted in life. I searched for so long to find my place, to find my family. I was now a wife to the most beautiful man I had ever known. I was a mother without even giving birth. Mason had become more mine than I could have dreamed. This was my family. And when I looked in the mirror now, all I saw was love. These walls were filled with happiness and hope. I was finally home.

I still shower in the dark, but not for the same reasons as before. I do it now for the peace it brings me. I do it now because life is about taking the things that hurt you and making them something else entirely. Something brilliant, something you can call yours.