Chapter 2: Cravings and Comforts
560 Words
The morning light filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across their BGC apartment. Outside, the city was slowly waking up—distant horns echoed faintly, the hum of morning traffic pulsing like background music to their domestic calm.
Wrapped in one of Eitan’s oversized white shirts, Mira Lyra lounged on the couch, her hand gently tracing circles on her growing baby bump. Sixteen weeks. Every day, the reality of a new life forming inside her felt both magical and grounding.
“Daddy Eitan…” she called out, stretching the nickname with a hint of drama.
From the hallway, Eitan emerged—towel draped around his shoulders, his damp hair tousled from his quick shower. “Yes, Mama?”
She looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “I’m craving.”
He tilted his head. “Again?”
“It’s serious,” she said with a pout. “Hot pan de sal. Scrambled egg. And thick Filipino hot choco. Yung tablea ha, hindi yung powdered choco. Gusto ko yung legit.”
Eitan blinked. “It’s barely seven.”
She raised a brow. “Do you want our baby to grow strong or not?”
He laughed, walking over and crouching in front of her. His hand cupped her cheek. “You sure this is the baby talking? Or my dramatic wife just being adorable?”
Mira Lyra grinned. “Both.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder, comforted by the familiar scent of his aftershave and the quiet hum of their home. “Kent might want some too when he wakes up. So... you know, better make it a double order.”
Eitan kissed the top of her head. “Fine. But next time you crave something, please let it be from a place that delivers.”
“No promises.”
He stood, already grabbing his keys, muttering under his breath about ‘mission pan de sal: husband edition.’
When the door closed behind him, she smiled to herself and leaned back, one hand resting on her belly. It was simple things like this—his willingness, the small acts of love—that reminded her how far she’d come.
There was a time she faced everything alone. A time she shielded Kent with all her might, unsure if anyone would ever step in and stay.
But Eitan did. He didn’t just accept Kent; he loved him. Raised him like his own. And now, they were building a family—whole, loud, a little chaotic, and beautifully theirs.
The scent of warm milk filled the kitchen as she prepped Kent’s school things. Her phone buzzed on the counter.
Zander Cruz.
One unread message.
Her eyes lingered on the screen, the name tugging memories from a lifetime ago. A different version of herself. One who hadn’t yet learned how strong she could be.
But today wasn’t for ghosts.
She locked her phone, turned it face down, and took a slow sip of milk.
Soon, the scent of fresh pan de sal and thick chocolate would fill the apartment. Her son would come running to the table, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and Eitan would flash his tired but boyish smile—proud of completing his breakfast mission.
And Mira Lyra? She would sit there, watching her little family, feeling full in every way that mattered.
- Writer
