picked up the paper.

There were only four lines.

Three babies will ruin my life. Marcus and I are leaving. Do whatever you want.

I read it once.

Then again.

Then a third time.

My brain refused to make the words fit the sister I knew.

The girl who once begged me not to leave her had left three daughters before they were even old enough to understand what leaving meant.

My knees gave out.

I sank onto the floor.

For a long time, I simply sat there.

Then one of the babies began crying.

A nurse lifted her and crouched beside me.

“Would you like to hold her?”

I shook my head.

“I don’t know how.”

“You’ll learn.”

Before I could protest, she placed the tiny girl against my chest.

Her entire body felt lighter than the fear inside me.

One little hand slipped free from the blanket.

Her

fingers wrapped around mine.

I looked down at her.

And something inside me shifted.

I still didn’t know what I was going to do.

I only knew I could not walk away.

“Okay,” I whispered.

I wasn’t speaking to the nurse.

I was speaking to the baby.

Maybe to all three of them.

“Okay. I’m here.”

Part 3 — Becoming Dad Before I Was Ready

Everyone had an opinion.

Aunt Carol was the loudest.

“Rick, three newborns will destroy you.”

She wasn’t trying to be cruel.

She was frightened.

So was I.

Social workers asked whether I understood what kinship placement meant.

They explained home visits, emergency custody, legal procedures, financial responsibilities, medical appointments.

Most of it sounded like another language.

Friends promised to help.

For about two weeks, many of them did.

Then their lives returned to normal.

Mine never did.

The girls’ names were already