The ninth morning arrived without ceremony.
No sudden fears.
No sharp pains.
No breath caught in panic.
Lila woke because Alden did.
His cry was still small, still uneven, but it carried something new in it—a demand rather than a plea. It cut through the quiet with surprising insistence, and for the first half second, fear flickered automatically in her chest.
Then she listened.
Not shallow.
Not fading.
Strong enough.
Her shoulders loosened.
“I hear you,” she murmured, adjusting him against her chest. “I’m awake.”
Caleb stirred beside her, blinking blearily before the sound fully registered.
“He’s—” he began.
“Hungry,” Lila said calmly.
The certainty in her own voice startled her more than anything else had.
Caleb paused, then smiled. “You’re sure.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Li
