The sun had barely crept over the horizon, painting the kitchen walls in soft gold, when Aria quietly tiptoed across the wooden floor.
The house was still, save for the soft rhythmic breathing coming from the nursery. Lila, Evan, and Allen were curled together under little blankets, each one blissfully lost in sleep. For the first time in weeks, the sound felt like a gift, a fragile peace she could savor.
Mrs. Grace, already bustling around the kitchen, hummed softly as she prepared breakfast. “You got up early, miss,” she said without looking up.
Aria sank onto a chair, exhaling deeply. “I didn’t sleep much… but I couldn’t resist peeking at them. They look… perfect.” Her fingers twitched, itching to smooth a stray curl from Lila’s forehead, but she resisted, letting the children rest.
