The alarm shrieked at six, sharp and unwelcome, but Aria was already awake. Her hand lingered on her stomach, tracing the curve where three little lives stirred.
The apartment was quiet, too quiet, save for the soft hum of the fridge and the faint creak of the radiator.
Mrs. Grace had been there since five, bustling around the tiny kitchen, making bottles, checking diapers, and muttering gentle reminders.
“You don’t have to do everything at once, dear,” Mrs. Grace said, glancing at her with a motherly frown. “Take a breath. The babies are fed, the house is tidy… it’s your first day. You can manage.”
Aria forced a smile, though her chest tightened. “I know… I know. I just… I can’t help feeling… guilty.”
“Guilt is useless,” Mrs. Grace replied softly, brushing a strand of hair from Aria
