“Ben,” she choked out, her voice breaking into a sob.

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms securely around her shoulders, pulling her flush against his chest.

He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in, his own tears dampening the collar of the oversized sweater she wore.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, holding her so tightly she could feel the frantic beating of his heart against her cheek.

“I’m so sorry I scared you.

I am just… I am so entirely in awe of you, Erin.

I wanted it to be a surprise.

I wanted to give you the world when you gave me a son.”

Erin reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face into the curve of his shoulder.

The exhaustion, the fear, the heavy burden of the past few weeks simply melted away, leaving nothing but an overwhelming, foundational sense of security.

She held onto him as the late afternoon light shifted through the window, painting the nursery floorboards in warm, golden hues.

The house was a chaotic mess of baby gear, their lives were about to be irreparably turned upside down, and the terrifying unknown of labor loomed just days away.

But as she held onto her husband, listening to the steady, comforting rhythm of his breathing, she realized something with absolute certainty.

She didn’t need to read the letters yet.

She didn’t need to open the envelope to know what was inside.

She already had everything she needed right here in her arms.