The days that followed changed the rhythm of the penthouse. Morning coffee now brewed before sunrise. Rosa hummed while preparing breakfast for herself in the guest kitchen, and Christopher discovered he liked the sound. They spoke more. She told him she had crossed borders, worked three jobs, and saved every dollar to build a life for her unborn child. He told her less, yet he listened more than he had ever listened to anyone.
He insisted she see a private obstetrician in a nearby clinic. During the appointment, the doctor applied gel to Rosa’s belly and turned on the monitor. The sound of a heartbeat filled the room, fast and determined. Rosa reached for Christopher’s hand without realizing what she was doing, and he did not pull away.
“It is a boy,” the doctor announced with a smile.
Christopher found himself smiling too, a genuine smile that reached parts of him business success never touched.
When the baby was born on a warm spring afternoon, Rosa held her child against her chest, exhausted and radiant. Christopher stood beside the hospital bed, tears running freely without shame.
“I am here,” he whispered to the newborn, unsure whether he spoke to the baby, to Rosa, or to himself.