I found it.

I found the spell.

Well, not so much found as finally figured out how to combine the different parts I had elaborated so far. And the answer was under my nose the entire time, in a magic book I bought on a whim the day I first laid eyes on Andrew.

It’s very tricky magic. Only a practitioner with a lot of raw talent as well as very fine control of that talent would be able to actually perform the spell, and only someone well-versed in magical theory would be able to put it together to begin with.

I’m not boasting when I say I am that good. Some of it is chance, of course. Whether a person will be magically gifted or not has a little to do with heredity and a lot with sheer luck. But I’ve developed my magic from the moment I realized what I could do. I learned everything I could, read every book I could find, practiced increasingly difficult spells and finally started inventing my own.

This miracle I seek to accomplish won’t be a product of random happenstance. I worked hard for this. I worked for years. And I was almost ready to give up. Andrew has never been anything other than supportive, but I think he was ready for me to stop trying. He’s been more and more worried over the years that I was trying too hard. But I know, I just know that it’ll be worth it. When he first sees our child, when I do, all these years of efforts will be paid for in full.

Should I tell him about this spell? A couple of times before, when I thought I had the solution, I told him, only to see him disappointed like I was when it didn’t work. I know it’ll work this time, it can’t not work, but just the same…

No, I won’t tell him. I’ll do the spell tonight and the next three nights like I’m supposed to, and we’ll see in a few weeks if it worked. If it didn’t, I’ll be the only one disappointed. But if it does…

Oh, God, please, let it work this time…