The next morning sun was just perfection the house was quiet, filled only with the sound of peace and family.
Luca was at the stove, humming a song under his breath as he flipped blueberry muffins, a new skill he was determined to master and Leon was sprawled out on the rug in the living room, surrounded by a fleet of plastic spaceships and wooden blocks.
I sat at the table, my hands cupped around a mug of tea, watching them. I felt a soft, fluttering sensation in my lower stomach—not the nausea that had plagued me for weeks, but the baby moving. It was a tiny, gentle reminder that time was moving forward. Luca and I had been waiting for this day. We had agreed that once I hit the fourteen-week mark, we had to tell Leon.
He was a smart boy, far too observant for his own good, and he had
