The evening light spilled into the small apartment — soft, honey-colored, fading fast.
Aria sat on the couch, hair undone, a loose T-shirt hanging off one shoulder. The twins were finally asleep, sprawled in their cribs like tiny conquerors after a long war.
The smallest of the three, her quiet one, slept in the bassinet beside her. His breathing was steady. Peaceful.
She took a sip of lukewarm tea, winced, and sighed. Her phone sat face down on the table — a silent thing in the middle of the mess. She reached for it, hesitated, then scrolled until she found Mia’s name.
It rang twice.
“Finally!” Mia’s voice exploded through the speaker, loud and alive. “I was beginning to think you’d joined some kind of mommy cult.”
Aria laughed — soft, weary, but real. “If I did, I’d probably be the
