I looked at Mara.She handed me the final box. Inside were the smallest black baby shoes I’d ever seen, a folded onesie, and a note.“You’re going to be a dad. Four months in. I wanted to wait for the right moment.”Ten years of trying. Three miscarriages. We thought it was over.I cried—hard. And when I looked up, my friends were smiling, clapping. Turns out,

every gift had hidden clues: “World’s Greatest Dad” under the mug, “Dad Mode: Loading” inside the shirt collar. I’d missed them all.But now I got it.That night, sitting by the firepit, Mara’s hand in mine, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time—hope. In the middle of grief, life had found a way forward.