Looking at my baby girl, sleeping so peacefully, I felt like the luckiest man in the world. She was perfect. My little miracle.

For years, I had wondered if I’d ever reach this point—married, a father, living in the house I helped design. It had all seemed so distant back when I first met Nadine in college.

I still remember how she caught my eye, sitting on the steps outside the library with her sketchbook, completely absorbed in her work. From that moment, I knew she was going to be someone special in my life.

We fell in love quickly, and five years into our marriage, we welcomed Brittany. Our little angel had just turned four months old, and everything should have been perfect. But recently, something had been off with Nadine.

She’d become distant, quieter than usual. I told myself it was just the stress of being new parents—sleepless nights and the pressures of her freelance work—but it was starting to wear on me.

I’d catch her looking at Brittany with this strange expression, as if she were carrying the weight of the world. I didn’t know how to handle it, but today was supposed to be a happy occasion. It was Brittany’s baptism, a day to celebrate the life we had built.