When I met Nick twelve years ago, I genuinely thought I’d hit the jackpot. It was one of those easy summer Saturdays—friends, a grill, cheap beer, and music playing from a Bluetooth speaker with a dying battery. He walked up to me with a bottle in one hand and a crooked smile in the other, tilted my sunglasses straight, and said, “You look like you lost a fight with the sun.” I laughed harder than the joke deserved. By the time the sky turned orange and someone started collecting paper plates, Nick and I were glued together like we’d always been that way. Two years later, we were married in a small ceremony with fairy lights and folding chairs. Three years after that, Emma arrived with a wail that sounded like a battle cry. Lily followed two years later, softer but no less determined. Now they’re seven and five, and if the house ever went silent for more than five minutes, I’d assume something was on fire….CONTINUE READING IN BELOW