Amiyah
The sunlight poured through the tall studio windows, soft and golden, wrapping everything in warmth. I stood still for a moment, one hand on my belly, the other brushing along the flowers stitched into my gown.
My mind wandered easily, drifting back to Curacao.
Back to the baby moon, the collaring ceremony, the ocean, and the way love had poured over me like sunlight.
Back to the taste of Calla’s kiss, the sound of James' laughter, the way the three of us had fit together in rhythm and breath, as if we had been made to find one another.
That trip had been more than a getaway; it was a rebirth.
Every sunset, every shared meal, every quiet moment of laughter reminded me that healing did not come through perfection; it came through presence.
“Amiyah,” James' deep voice broke through my thoughts, his tone both gentle and amused.
I turned to find him watching me with that same quiet adoration that still made me shy sometimes. “Hmm?”
He smiled, the corners of his mouth curving just enough to make my heart ache. “Where’s that beautiful mind of yours?”
I laughed softly. “Just thinking about how good it feels to be loved back to life.”
He crossed the space between us in slow, sure steps. His fingers brushed my chin, tilting it upward, and then he kissed me, careful not to smudge my makeup or crush my curls. When he pulled away, his eyes swept over me.
“You look stunning,” he said, his voice full of awe.
I smiled, my heart full and trembling. “This journey with you and Calla has shown me how real God is. He knew what I needed was bigger than what I thought I wanted.”
He smiled, his thumb tracing along my jaw. “And He gave you us.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “He did.”
The gown I wore shimmered under the light, a strapless ivory mermaid design with a tulle skirt made of soft flowers. My feet were bare, reminding me that beauty and strength could live side by side.
I waddled toward the set where Calla and James waited.
Calla’s face lit up the instant she saw me. “You are glowing, my love,” she said, laughing softly as she moved toward me. Her hand slipped gently over my belly, her thumb tracing slow circles. “Our little bean is going strong in there, huh?”
“That’s an understatement,” I said with a grin. “Got a mean kick, too.”
James chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling through the room. He looked incredible in his ivory slacks and matching shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, his hair freshly cut, and his beard perfectly trimmed.
And Calla…
Calla was the embodiment of confidence and grace. Her ivory three-piece suit fit her like a dream, the top buttons of her silk shirt undone just enough to remind me of how effortlessly sensual she was.
The set was breathtaking, flowers in a variety of shades, accented in gold, framing every angle. It looked like something from a dream, full of life and light.
I stood between them, my fingers lacing with theirs as the photographer began to count down. And then, as if on cue, the air filled with a soft flurry of pink rose petals.
The petals floated down around us, delicate and slow, each one a whisper of joy. Calla gasped, tears filling her eyes. James smiled so wide it made me laugh through my own tears. We didn’t need to say a word. Everyone would know soon enough.
Our daughter.
Our light.
Phoenix Sorai.
She was the embodiment of everything we had endured and overcome. She was hope made tangible, transformation made flesh, and resilience given a heartbeat. She was the life that love itself had breathed back into us.
The petals swirled through the air. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the moment sink in. And for a split second, I was back in that dream, the one that had lived in my mind for so long.
The dream where I stood between James and an unknown woman, both of them touching me, loving me, surrounding me in light. I had felt the same pull then, the same warmth, the same sense of being seen. Now I knew the woman in my dreams had always been Calla.
The love I had been searching for had always been this. That dream had been a glimpse of my destiny, long before I was ready to claim it. As I opened my eyes, there they were: my reality, my peace, my home. James pressed a kiss to my forehead, and Calla’s hand rested over my heart.
As the photographer captured that exact moment, I smiled, knowing what it all meant. Love had not only found me, it had remade me, it had rebirthed me.
And through it, we had risen, all three of us, stronger and brighter, just like our daughter, Phoenix Sorai, a living testament that from every ending, something beautiful can rise again.
Weeks later, I stood by the window in the soft morning light, Phoenix cradled in my arms as she suckled from my breasts.
The world outside was quiet, painted in shades of gold and pink, the same colors that had filled the studio the day we announced her.
Her tiny fingers curled around mine, her breathing light and steady against my chest.
I looked down at her face, at the little lips and button nose, at the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and I felt it again, that same peace, that same awe that had carried me since Curacao.
Calla was asleep in the bed behind me, her hand resting in James'. Their breathing matched, slow and calm. We had built something sacred together, something that felt more like grace than anything I had ever known.
Phoenix stirred softly, her small mouth forming a faint smile as she started to drift back to sleep, signifying she’d gotten milk drunk and was ready to rest, and I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“I found you,” I whispered. “I found all of you.”
Outside, the sun climbed higher, bathing the room in light. It felt like the dream again, but this time, I was awake. I didn’t just feel loved, I am loved.