Part 26
With the final legal ties severed, a new energy swept through the glass house, focused entirely on the future.
The smallest bedroom at the end of the hall, which had remained empty and closed, was finally unlocked.
Daniel spent three full days clearing it out, washing the windows until they let in the beautiful afternoon light.
He refused to buy a commercial crib, choosing instead to build one with his own two hands from scratch.
He sourced beautiful, smooth white oak from a local lumber yard, bringing the fragrant wood into his studio.
Ava would often sit on a stool in the corner, watching him measure, saw, and sand the wood with meticulous care.
There was something incredibly healing about watching a man use his strength to create something so gentle.
His hands, which had once been forced to fight and defend, were now shaping a safe haven for his unborn child.
"I want it to be perfect," Daniel said, wiping sweat from his forehead as he sanded a smooth, curved rail.
"Every joint needs to be strong, every edge needs to be as smooth as silk. Nothing can ever hurt our baby."
Ava walked over, wrapping her arms around his back, pressing her cheek against his warm, sturdy shoulder blade.
"It already is perfect, Daniel," she murmured, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart through his shirt.
"The love you are pouring into this wood is going to protect them more than any physical structure ever could."
He turned around in her embrace, his dusty hands careful not to touch her pristine white dress.
By the end of the week, the crib was finished, standing proudly in the center of the newly painted nursery.
The room was a soft, calming shade of seafoam green, filled with soft blankets, stuffed animals, and books.
Rosa had spent days knitting a beautiful, intricate patchwork blanket made of the softest cream-colored wool.
They stood together in the doorway, looking at the room, a collective sense of profound accomplishment washing over them.
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This room wasn't just a place for a baby; it was a monument to their survival, a declaration of a new generation.
A child born into this room would never know the terror of Connecticut; they would only know the peace of the sea.
