The years passed in a blur of birthday parties and first days of school, scraped knees and bedtime stories, laughter and tears and everything else in between.
Sofia started kindergarten, and Maya cried watching her daughter walk into the classroom with her too-big backpack. When had her baby gotten so big?
Isabella was a wild child, fearless and energetic, constantly keeping them on their toes. Where Sofia had been cautious and careful, Isabella climbed everything, jumped off everything, tested every boundary.
"She's going to give us gray hair," Ethan said one day after Isabella had climbed onto the kitchen counter and nearly given them both heart attacks.
"She already has," Maya laughed, pointing to the silver strands appearing at Ethan's temples.
Maya finished her associate's degree when Isabella was three, walking across the stage with her family cheering in the audience. It had taken her six years instead of two, but she'd done it. She'd proven that being a young mother didn't mean giving up on her dreams.
She got a job as an administrative assistant at a local company. It wasn't her dream job, but it had good benefits and reasonable hours, and it meant they could finally start building real savings.
Ethan's uncle retired and offered to sell Ethan the auto shop. It was a huge opportunity but also a huge risk. They'd have to take out a loan, and Ethan would be working even longer hours to get the business established.
They talked about it for weeks, weighing the pros and cons, running the numbers over and over.
"I think you should do it," Maya finally said. "This is your dream, Ethan. You've been working toward this since you were a teenager."
"But the risk—"
"We've been taking risks since we were nineteen. This one might actually pay off."
So Ethan bought the shop, renaming it Carter's Auto Repair. The first year was brutal—he worked seventy-hour weeks, came home covered in grease, fell asleep at the dinner table more than once. But slowly, the business grew. He built a reputation for honest work and fair prices, and customers started coming back, started recommending him to friends.
They bought a house when Sofia was eight and Isabella was six—a small three-bedroom place in a decent neighborhood with a backyard for the girls to play in. It needed work, but it was theirs. No more landlords, no more thin walls, no more worrying about security deposits.
The night they moved in, after the girls were asleep in their new rooms, Maya and Ethan sat on the floor of their empty living room, surrounded by boxes.
"Remember when we thought we couldn't do this?" Maya asked, leaning against Ethan's shoulder.
"Which time? We've thought that about a hundred times."
Maya laughed. "True. But look at us now. We own a house. You own a business. We have two amazing daughters. We actually did it."
"We did," Ethan agreed, kissing the top of her head. "And we're not done yet, babe."