The atmosphere in the VIP recovery room was stifling, thick with the sharp tang of antiseptic and the heavy, stagnant air of exhaustion. Ava lay motionless in the bed, her body feeling like a territory that had been scorched by war. It had taken twenty grueling hours of labor to bring triplets into the world, and every muscle she possessed was screaming in protest. Next to her, in plastic bassinets that seemed too fragile for the miracles they held, Leo, Mia, and Noah slept. They were three tiny heartbeats wrapped in hospital fleece, oblivious to the fact that their world was about to shatter.

Ava’s hair was matted with sweat, her gown was stained, and her spirit was frayed. She looked toward the door, her heart hammering with a mixture of hope and anxiety. David had left to “get coffee” nearly four hours ago, moments after the last baby was delivered. He hadn’t held them yet. He hadn’t even looked at them.

When the door finally swung open, Ava shifted painfully to sit up, a weary smile forming on her cracked lips. “David, you’re back. The nurse said the boys need—”