What began as a stiff, silent bedtime slowly became a sacred moment of trust—and a reminder that healing often happens one night at a time.

One summer afternoon, I watched my daughter jump from star to star—and realized she was finally safe enough to just be a child.

On the day we were supposed to meet our daughters for the first time, I lost my luggage—and almost missed the moment that changed our lives forever.

Six little feet ran down the hall at 6 a.m., and somehow, without fanfare, we became a family.

This was the beginning—Good Heart as an ARC, shared quietly with early readers who believed in the story before it found its voice.