Josh

Ashe's innocent eyes looked up at me, filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. "Daddy, why doesn't Mommy sing anymore?" she asked, her voice tender and questioning.

I paused, the familiar weight of the question settling over me. It was a subject I had often pondered myself, the silence of her once vibrant voice a mystery that lingered in our home. I kneeled down to Ashe's level, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

"Well, sweetie," I began softly, choosing my words with care, "Mommy used to sing only to me, and you. It is something she used to love doing"

Ashe's eyes widened with interest, absorbing every word. "But why did she stop, Daddy?"

I took a deep breath, wishing I had a simple answer that could ease her curiosity. "Sometimes, people go through different experiences that change them. Mommy has been through a lot, and sometimes those experiences make it hard to do the things we once loved."

"Do you think she'll ever sing again?" Ashe asked, her small fingers clasping mine with a hopeful grip.

I looked into her earnest eyes, feeling the depth of her longing mirrored in my own heart. "I hope so, Ashe. I really do. I think if we show Mommy how much we love her and let her know how much we miss her singing, maybe one day, she will find her voice again."

Ashe nodded, a determined glint in her eyes. "I'll help, Daddy. I'll tell Mommy how much I love her singing."

I smiled, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into a gentle hug. "That's a wonderful idea, Ashe. Together, we can remind Mommy of the joy she brings with her songs."

As we stood there, holding each other, I felt a renewed sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, our love and encouragement could bring back the melodies that once filled our home with warmth and happiness.

Just then, Janna, clapped her tiny hands, her face lighting up with an innocent delight. Even at such a young age, she seemed to understand the significance of our conversation. She missed Mommy's singing too, in her own little way. Her giggles filled the room, adding a sprinkle of joy to our solemn moment.

I chuckled softly, kissing the top of Janna's head. "See, Ashe? Even Janna remembers Mommy's songs," I said, my voice filled with warmth and affection.

Ashe grinned, her spirits lifted by her baby sister's reaction. "We'll remind Mommy together," she said confidently, her resolve strengthening.

And in that moment, surrounded by the pure, unwavering love of my daughters, I felt as if the silence that had settled over our home might soon be replaced with the beautiful, soul-stirring melodies that once brought us so much joy.

After dinner and the girls were bathed and tucked away in bed, I found myself sitting on the edge of our bed, watching Sophie as she moved about the room, her expression distant. The curiosity that Ashe had sparked in me earlier now seemed to bubble over, demanding answers.

"Sophie," I began gently, drawing her attention. She paused, turning to face me, a question in her eyes. "Why don't you sing anymore?"

She sighed softly and came to sit beside me, the bed dipping under her weight. "It's complicated," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Singing used to be my escape, my way of expressing everything I couldn't say with words. But then, life happened. The challenges, the disappointments... somehow, I lost that part of myself."

I reached out, taking her hand in mine. "But why? Singing always seemed to bring you so much joy."

She looked down, her fingers tracing patterns on the bedspread. "I guess I started to feel like my voice didn't matter anymore. That it wasn't enough to make a difference. And gradually, I stopped trying."

My heart ached for her, for the pain she had carried silently. "Sophie, your voice has always mattered. To me, to Ashe, to Janna. We miss your songs. They brought so much light into our lives."

Tears filled her eyes as she met my gaze. "I didn't realize how much it affected all of you."

"It does," I affirmed. "But we are here for you, and we will support you every step of the way. Maybe, just maybe, you can find that joy again."

She nodded slowly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Maybe I will. With all of you by my side, maybe I can."

I pulled her into a warm embrace, feeling a sense of optimism swell within me. As we held each other, I silently vowed to help her rediscover her voice, to bring back the melodies that had once filled our home with so much love and happiness.

Sophie and I kept trying for that baby, though the road was far from easy. With each setback, each moment of doubt, we held on tighter to one another, determined to bring back the joy that had once been so abundant in our lives.

There were days when the weight of our struggles threatened to overwhelm us, but in those moments, we found solace in the small victories, in each other's unwavering support. We revisited the dreams we had painted together, and slowly, Sophie's laughter began to fill our home once more.

We made it a point to celebrate the little things: an impromptu dance in the kitchen, a stolen kiss in the hallway, and the gentle hum of a lullaby Sophie began to sing again, hesitantly at first, then with growing confidence. We embraced the challenges as part of our journey, a testament to our resilience and love.

Through it all, we never lost sight of the family we were building, not just through the promise of a new life, but through the bonds that grew stronger with each passing day. We found joy in the present, in the moments that reminded us of our strength and our hope.

And as we looked towards the future, we carried with us the belief that together, we could overcome any obstacle, that our love would light the way, and that one day, we would welcome a world filled with music, love, and endless joy.

Another day of school welcomed me, it was the endless studying that made me question law school. Yet, in those moments of doubt, I remembered the conversations with Sophie, the way she had fought her own battles, and how we had found strength in each other. Her perseverance reminded me that the path to our dreams was rarely straightforward but always worth pursuing.

As I trudged through the corridors of the college, I reminded myself of the reasons I chose this path. The desire to make a difference, to stand up for justice, and to be a voice for those who couldn't be heard. It was a daunting task, much like the journey Sophie and I had embarked upon, but it was driven by a purpose that went beyond my own ambitions.

Each lecture, each case study became a step closer to that vision. I found solace in the camaraderie of my peers, In the quiet corners of the library, I lost myself in the pages of law texts, drawing parallels between the struggles of the characters and my own.

Through the haze of endless studying, I glimpsed the future we were building—not just for ourselves but for a world where our efforts counted, I was building a future for my girls, my wife and who knows maybe that little boy I desperately want. One can only hope with my luck it will be another girl.