And then, Simone places her on my chest.

Everly.

She’s tiny, warm, so impossibly small, her cheek damp against my skin, her little cries breaking apart into soft, hiccupping breaths.

I reach out, touch her cheek, and my heart shatters and rebuilds all at once.

Atlas isn’t breathing. I can feel it beside me—the way he’s frozen, the way he’s staring at her like she’s his whole damn universe.

Like he just found something he never knew he needed but now can’t live without.

I swallow hard, emotions thick in my throat. “You want to hold her?”

His eyes snap to mine, wide, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah?” His voice is hoarse. “You—you sure?”

I nod, blinking through my tears. “She’s yours too, Atlas.”

A rough breath leaves him, something like awe, like devastation.

And then—he’s reaching for her.

Careful, reverent, like she’s made of something holy.

And just like that—she’s in his arms.

And he falls apart.

Not in some dramatic, loud way.

Not with sobs or curses or words at all.

He just stares.

At her tiny hands curled into fists, at the delicate slope of her nose, at the perfect way she fits against his chest.

At his daughter.

His breath shudders out of him.

“She’s so small,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “How is she so—” He breaks off, shaking his head, eyes still locked on her.

I press a hand to my mouth, overwhelmed by the sheer love in his expression. His throat works as he swallows, his grip tightening just slightly.

“God, baby, I love you,” he murmurs, looking back at me, his eyes shining. “I love you both so much, I⁠—”

His voice breaks. He stops talking altogether because words aren’t enough.

He just holds her.

Holds our daughter like she’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

And maybe she is.

I exhale, my chest aching in a way I’ve never felt before.

Because this is it.

This is ours.

Forever.

Atlas’s Epilogue

She’s so tiny.

So fragile. So perfect.

I hold Everly against my chest, staring down at the little person who just wrecked me with a single cry.

Her fingers curl into my shirt, clutching at me like she already knows I’m hers, her face scrunching up before relaxing against my warmth. I swear I stop breathing.

I wasn’t prepared for this.

Not for the overwhelming, suffocating, all-consuming love that crashes into me like a tidal wave, drowning me in something I’ll never recover from.

I should have known. I should have fucking known.

Because from the moment I felt her kick, from the moment I saw her on that sonogram, she was mine.

And now—she’s here.

Real. Breathing. Looking up at me like I’m already supposed to know how to be her father.

My throat burns. My chest feels like it’s caving in.