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Ten months later

The Harkness-Vidal house was still. The same stillness that lingers before alarm clocks and coffee machines had the chance to stir life into its walls. Outside, dawn was just beginning to bloom across the sky, muted pinks and pale golds stretching through the curtains of Agatha and Rio’s bedroom.

In the middle of the bed, blankets tangled around them, Agatha and Rio lay asleep, breathing evenly. Agatha had an arm draped over Rio’s waist, her face buried in her wife’s hair, while Rio pressed herself closer with the instinctive clinginess of someone who never liked to let go, even in sleep.

The quiet broke with a small, determined grunt.

A faint thump. Then another. Then the unmistakable squeak of a mattress spring shifting under unexpected weight.

A moment later, a tiny figure scrambled up between them—two years old, soft curls sticking in all directions, purple jammies askew, cheeks warm with sleep, and eyes brighter than the early morning sun.

Violet plopped herself right into the space between her mothers, letting out a triumphant sigh as if she’d conquered some great feat.

Rio blinked awake first, groaning at the disruption but quickly softening when she caught sight of her daughter. “Violet?” Her voice was still husky from sleep. She squinted at the toddler climbing onto her stomach like she was a mountain. “What on earth…?”

Agatha stirred at the sound, one eye opening, then the other. Her face was a perfect picture of sleepy confusion until Violet snuggled against her chest and pressed her small hand against Agatha’s cheek. That melted every ounce of irritation away.

“Oh, my love,” Agatha whispered, pulling Violet closer, “how did you get in here?”

Violet didn’t answer, of course—words were still in the half-formed stage for her. Instead, she gave a dramatic sigh, wriggled until she was safely nestled between both her mothers, and promptly closed her eyes again as though this was exactly where she was meant to be all along.

Rio propped herself up on one elbow, staring down at the little girl with mock suspicion. “Wait a second. We put her in her crib last night.”

Agatha yawned. “Yes. Yes, we did.”

“And the crib has bars.” Rio’s eyes widened, the realization dawning. “Did—did she climb out?”

Agatha hummed thoughtfully, stroking Violet’s curls. “Unless she’s learned how to teleport overnight, which would be impressive even by Harkness-Vidal standards…”

Rio gasped softly, hand to her chest. “We have a jailbreaker!”

That woke Agatha fully—if not with alarm, then with laughter. She pressed her lips together to stifle it, shaking silently before finally giving in. “Rio, don’t encourage her.”

“She broke out, Agatha! Look at her—she’s so smug about it, too!” Rio gestured dramatically toward their daughter, who was now curled like a satisfied cat, utterly unbothered by the conversation surrounding her.

Agatha looked down at Violet, who had one thumb tucked into her mouth and the other hand resting possessively against her mother’s collarbone. “She does look rather proud of herself.”

“Mm-hm. Today it’s the crib. Tomorrow she’ll be raiding the fridge at midnight.”

“Or scaling the bookshelves.”

“Or driving off in the car!”

Agatha chuckled. “She’s two, love.”

“Exactly,” Rio whispered fiercely. “A dangerous age.”

That earned her a slow, indulgent smile. Agatha leaned over Violet’s head to kiss her wife softly, murmuring, “Dramatic as always.”

Rio only smirked, unrepentant, then turned her attention back to their daughter. She brushed her knuckles gently across Violet’s chubby cheek. “I think it’s time,” she said solemnly.

“For what?”

“A big girl bed.”

Agatha raised a brow, half amused, half considering the idea. “Already?”

“Clearly, the crib can no longer contain her genius.” Rio tilted her head, eyes wide with mock gravity. “She’ll only keep escaping. We can’t live under the constant threat of midnight invasions.”

“I hardly call this an invasion,” Agatha said, though her hand rested protectively on Violet’s back all the same.

Rio grinned. “Speak for yourself. My ribs were stepped on.”

At that, Agatha did laugh—quiet and warm, careful not to disturb Violet’s dozing. She shifted so that Violet rested between them more comfortably, then kissed Rio’s temple. “Perhaps you’re right. It might be time.”

They fell into a gentle silence after that, watching their daughter breathe peacefully, caught between babyhood and the first real steps toward independence.

Agatha traced a finger over Violet’s little hand, her voice quiet. “She’s growing faster than I’d like.”

Rio’s heart squeezed, because under all her dramatics, she felt it too. “Yeah,” she admitted softly. “Too fast.”

For a few more minutes, none of them moved.

The school year would begin in a few hours, with its rush of lesson plans, students, and endless chatter. But right now, there was just the three of them, wrapped up in blankets, caught in the early morning glow.

Violet stirred only once, letting out a tiny yawn before rolling onto her side, pressed between both her mothers.

Agatha and Rio exchanged a glance over her small form, a look that said everything words couldn’t,  how lucky they felt, how full their hearts were, how even the chaos of a toddler jailbreak was worth it for mornings like this.

Eventually, Rio whispered, “So… Ikea trip sometimes soon?”

Agatha smirked. “We’ll see how you’re holding up after going back to teach our chaotic students tomorrow.”

“Unfair.” Rio pouted.

“Reality,” Agatha countered smoothly, before settling back against the pillows with her girls.

And so, on the first morning of a brand-new school year, before alarm clocks and coffee and responsibilities intruded, the Harkness-Vidal household began with love, laughter, and the promise of a big girl bed.

The peace lasted all of five minutes.

Thump-thump-thump. Feet pounding on the hardwood floors. A burst of energy approaching.

The door creaked open, and then Nicky appeared in the doorway, already dressed in the new polo shirt Agatha had ironed the night before, his hair sticking up at the back where he’d clearly rushed through brushing it. His face was glowing with excitement, the kind of excitement that could only belong to an eight-and-three-quarters-year-old on the first day of third grade.

“Moms!” he whispered, which wasn’t quiet at all. “It’s today! It’s school!”

Rio groaned dramatically, rolling onto her back. “Oh no, the stampede has arrived.”

Nicky scrambled toward the bed and launched himself up without hesitation. He landed with a bounce that jostled Violet awake. She blinked up at him, bleary-eyed, and made a tiny protesting noise before snuggling further into Agatha’s side.

“Careful, Nicholas,” Agatha said smoothly, though her arm reached out automatically to steady him as he climbed across the blankets.

“Sorry,” Nicky said quickly, but his grin gave him away—he wasn’t sorry at all. He wedged himself between Rio and Violet, his small body buzzing with energy that had no outlet. “I couldn’t sleep anymore! I’m too excited.”

Rio pulled him close, tucking him against her side. “Of course you are. Third grade, huh? You’re basically an old man now.”

“Am not!” Nicky shot back, laughing.

“Are too.” Rio poked his side. “Next thing we know, you’ll be asking for a mortgage and complaining about your back.”

Nicky giggled, wriggling away. “Noooo!”

Agatha shook her head at the pair of them, though her lips curved into a smile. She adjusted Violet, who had woken up more fully now and was staring at her brother with wide eyes. Her tiny hands reached toward him as if she wanted in on his excitement.

“Ni-ky!” she chirped, the syllables still soft and a little slurred, but recognizable.

That made Nicky puff up with pride. “She said my name again!” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You’re coming with me today too, huh?”

Rio arched a brow. “Technically she’s going to daycare, not third grade.”

“Still counts!” Nicky declared. “It’s her first day too.”

At that, Agatha’s hand lingered on Violet’s curls, a small ache tightening in her chest. She had packed Violet’s tiny bag the night before, with her favorite blanket and a snack tucked inside, but it still felt surreal. Their baby was already heading to daycare.

Rio caught the look and nudged her wife gently with her knee under the blanket. “Don’t get misty-eyed on me, Harkness. You’ll start me off too.”

Agatha sniffed with mock offense. “I wasn’t.”

“You were,” Rio teased, then kissed Nicky’s hair. “Alright, Mister Third Grade, tell us your grand plans for today.”

Nicky’s eyes lit up. “Okay, so first I’m gonna find Billy at recess, ‘cause he said he would save me a seat at lunch, but I think Leo might try to take it, so I gotta get there first. And I’m gonna see if our new teacher is nice, because Jasmin said third grade math is harder but I think I can do it. Oh! And if we get to pick classroom jobs, I want to be the line leader this year.”

Rio nodded seriously, like he’d just outlined a battle strategy. “Excellent. Strong plan. I fully support line leader ambitions.”

Agatha smoothed his shirt collar, her voice warm. “You’ll do wonderfully, sweetheart. I have no doubt.”

“What about Vivi?” Nicky asked suddenly. He turned toward his sister, who had now rolled halfway onto Rio’s chest and was gnawing on her fingers. “What’s her plan?”

“Her plan,” Rio said, tickling Violet’s side until she squealed, “is to charm everyone with her cuteness and eat all the snacks.”

“And maybe nap, if we’re lucky,” Agatha added dryly.

Violet blew a raspberry, which only made Nicky laugh harder.

The four of them lay there for a while longer, the bed filled with the cozy chaos only a young family could manage. Rio stretched her arms dramatically over her head. “I vote we skip all responsibility today and just stay here forever.”

“Tempting,” Agatha admitted, her hand drifting down to rest on Violet’s small back. “But I think someone would riot if he missed his first day.”

“I wouldn’t riot,” Nicky said indignantly, then paused. “But I’d be really, really sad.”

“Exactly,” Agatha said, kissing his forehead. “And we can’t have that.”

They began trading hopes and dreams for the day, their voices overlapping in the easy rhythm of family. Nicky promised to report back on every detail of recess politics. Violet’s schedule, Rio insisted, would include finger paints and naps (whether Violet agreed to that or not). Agatha and Rio shared that they wouldn’t be teaching until tomorrow, so today would be all about the kids—drop-offs, pick-ups, and then celebrating with ice cream after.

“Wait,” Nicky interrupted, his eyes wide. “Ice cream after school?”

“Of course,” Rio said solemnly. “It’s tradition. Big milestones demand sugar.”

“Yes!” He pumped his fist, nearly elbowing Rio in the process.

Agatha rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her amusement. “I don’t recall establishing that tradition.”

“You married me,” Rio countered with a smirk. “All my ridiculous traditions are automatically yours now.”

Agatha sighed, though her arm around both children tightened in a way that belied her words. “Heavens help me.”

The clock on the nightstand ticked forward, reminding them that eventually, the morning would have to begin in earnest—with breakfast, backpacks, and first-day jitters. But for now, they all stayed piled together in bed, wrapped in warmth, laughter, and the comforting weight of each other.

Getting out of bed with two wriggling children wasn’t so much a graceful exit as it was a military operation. Agatha managed to extricate herself first, sliding away from Violet’s clutching hands with the precision of someone who had years of practice. Rio wasn’t so lucky; both Nicky and Violet clung to her until she groaned and declared herself “trapped forever,” which only made them laugh harder.

Eventually, with much coaxing and tickling, all four of them made it downstairs into the brighter morning. The kitchen smelled faintly of coffee already—Agatha’s doing, of course—and Rio busied herself with cutting fruit while the kids darted around the living room, half-dressed and buzzing.

“Nicky,” Agatha called in her no-nonsense professor voice, “go finish brushing your teeth. You’ve got jam on your chin already, and you haven’t even had breakfast.”

He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, grinning. “I’ll do it after cereal!”

Agatha arched one perfect eyebrow. “Now.”

That was enough. He scampered upstairs, calling over his shoulder about how third grade kids didn’t even need to brush their teeth twice a day.

Rio snorted. “He’s definitely your son, you know.”

Agatha smirked, pouring her coffee. “Oh? How do you figure?”

“The eyebrow alone could knock over governments.”

Before Agatha could reply, Violet toddled into the kitchen. She was still in her pyjamas, curls bouncing as she clutched something large and shiny in her little hands. She dragged it across the floor, the fabric crinkling with every step.

Rio bent down. “What have you got there, love?”

Violet dropped the object proudly at her mother’s feet: the dragon costume from Alice and Jen, a too-big green jumpsuit with purple stuffed wings attached and a tail that had seen better days. The aunts had upgraded the last one when it had gotten too small, for both Violet and Nicky.

“Oh no,” Agatha murmured, recognizing the glint in her daughter’s eyes. “She’s decided.”

Sure enough, Violet puffed out her tiny chest and declared, “Dwa-gon!” The word was slurred, but unmistakable. She pointed at herself, then at the costume, then at the door. “Vivi Daw-gon! Grrrr!” She followed it with her fiercest toddler growl.

Rio clapped her hands in delight. “She wants to go as a dragon! That’s adorable.”

Agatha set her coffee down with the weight of a woman preparing for battle. “She cannot go to daycare in a full dragon suit.”

Violet, sensing resistance, stomped her little foot and repeated, louder this time, “Daw-gon!” She tugged on the costume with a stubborn pout.

Before Agatha could launch into reason, Nicky reappeared, toothbrush foam still on his cheek. “Wait—what? Violet gets to wear the green dragon costume? No fair! That’s my costume!”

“It’s too small for you now, honey,” Rio reminded gently, but Nicky was already rummaging in his drawer of treasures near the bookshelf. He came back waving something triumphantly.

“My dragon headband!” he shouted, holding up a felt headband with two sparkly horns glued to it. “She can wear this instead!”

Agatha looked doubtful. “She’ll take it off within five minutes.”

But Violet, watching her brother with wide eyes, reached for the headband eagerly. “Hat!” she demanded.

Nicky plopped it onto her curls, slightly askew. Violet immediately beamed, patting it proudly. “Daw-gon!”

“Close enough,” Rio said, grinning. “Problem solved.”

Agatha crossed her arms. “Except she’s still in pajamas.”

As if to counter, Violet stomped again, thrusting her tiny chin up. “Daw-gon!”

Rio crouched to eye level. “Tell you what, love. How about dragon and butterfly? You wear your overalls with the butterfly wings. Big girl outfit, special first day, and dragon horns too.”

Violet blinked at her, considering the offer with all the gravitas of a two-year-old. “Buh-fwy?” she echoed.

“Yes,” Rio said, nodding solemnly. “Butterfly wings on top.”

That was enough. Violet squealed in approval, flinging herself into Rio’s arms. “Buh-fwy! Daw-gon!”

Agatha exhaled in relief. “An unholy hybrid, but fine.”

So the dressing chaos began. Nicky danced around in his new sneakers, humming a victory song about being a “big third grader.” Agatha wrangled Violet into denim overalls and a striped t-shirt and doing the little girl’s hair into two adorable pigtails on top of her head, while Rio hunted down the costume bin for the butterfly wings. By the time they strapped them on over her back, Violet was twirling in the middle of the living room, dragon horns slightly crooked, wings flapping, overalls bright.

“She looks like she was designed by a chaos committee,” Agatha muttered, though her eyes betrayed her affection.

“She looks perfect,” Rio countered, snapping a quick photo on her phone.

“Perfect,” Nicky agreed loyally, before adding, “Can I wear my cape to school?”

Agatha fixed him with that same eyebrow, and he quickly backpedaled. “Okay, okay. No cape. Just asking.”

Breakfast was more laughter than food—Nicky’s cereal sloshing because he gesticulated while telling them about the playground strategies he’d devised, Violet gnawing on a piece of toast while flapping her wings serioulssy, Rio trying to sneak an extra spoonful of jam when Agatha wasn’t looking.

By the time backpacks were zipped, shoes were tied, and jackets shrugged on, the house was vibrating with excitement. Two first days ahead: one for a brand-new third grader, one for a butterfly-dragon toddler, and two mothers who wouldn’t admit they were nervous, too.

Agatha caught Rio’s hand as they stood by the door, Violet balanced on her hip, Nicky bouncing in place. “Ready?” she asked quietly.

Rio squeezed her fingers. “Never. But let’s go anyway.”

And out they went, their day just beginning.

The very short walk to the car was another type of chaos: water-bottle and bag pack checks, Violet’s wings re-clipped after she tore them off twice and asked to put them on again. At last, though, everyone was buckled into the family car. Nicky sat in the back seat, legs swinging restlessly, backpack hugged tight against his chest. Violet sat beside him in her car seat, dragon horns slightly askew, humming to herself as she tapped the side of her sippy cup like it was a drum.

Agatha was at the wheel, elegant even in the morning rush, one hand steady while the other adjusted the rearview mirror to check on the kids. Rio leaned back in the passenger seat, twisting around every few seconds to grin at them.

“Alright,” Rio announced grandly, “first stop: third grade!”

“Second stop,” Agatha added, “butterfly-dragon daycare.”

Violet squealed at that, flapping her wings against the straps of her seat. “Buh-fwy daw-gon!”

Nicky laughed, though he rolled his eyes with the practiced air of an older brother. “You’re so silly, Vivi.”

The ride was short, but every moment felt precious. Agtha kept sneaking glances at Nicky in the mirror—how tall he looked now, how his little-boy roundness had shifted a little into lanky limbs, how his face carried a spark of confidence she hadn’t seen last year.

“You’ve grown up so much,” she murmured softly.

Nicky, who hadn’t heard her, was too busy telling Rio about how he hoped the class pet wasn’t another turtle because turtles were boring.

Still, Agatha’s chest ached. He was growing, yes. But still hers. Always hers. Her baby.

When they pulled up to the familiar school drop-off lane, the parking lot was already busy with cars and the chatter of children. Teachers stood at the gates, waving students toward the playground.

Agatha eased the car into a spot near the curb. The moment she shifted into park, she and Rio both turned toward the back.

“Alright, champ,” Rio said lightly. “Do you want us to walk you in, or are you good on your own?”

Nicky puffed out his chest, trying to look older than his years. “I’m good. I can do it myself.”

Rio’s smile was wide but a little wobbly. “Big guy, huh?”

“Third graders don’t need moms to walk them in,” Nicky declared, slinging his backpack onto his shoulders. He opened the car door with all the determination of an independent adventurer. “Bye!”

And just like that, he was off.

Agatha and Rio watched, silent for a moment, as their son strode across the parking lot toward the gates. He didn’t even look back, his small figure swallowed quickly into the crowd of children.

Rio pressed her palm to her chest, exhaling like she’d been holding her breath. “Well,” she said softly, “there goes our baby.”

Agatha reached across the console and squeezed her hand. “There goes our big boy.”

They sat there, pride and bittersweet ache mingling in the stillness of the car.

And then—ten seconds later—Nicky stopped. He turned. He stood frozen for a beat, then spun on his heel and bolted back toward the car, backpack bouncing.

The car doors flung open, and there he was again, slightly breathless, his cheeks pink. “Wait! I forgot something.”

Rio blinked, startled. “What did you—?”

But then he threw himself forward, arms wrapping around her as tightly as he could. “I forgot hugs!”

Rio let out a soft, watery laugh and gathered him in, holding on like she didn’t want to let go. “Oh, thank God.”

Agatha was already out of the driver’s seat, circling around to their side. Violet squealed with delight, reaching her little hands out, chanting “Ni-ky! Ni-ky!” until Rio unbuckled her. Soon, all four of them were piled together on the curb of the drop-off lane in a family hug.

Agatha pressed a kiss to the crown of Nicky’s head after her hug, then crouched down so her eyes met his. “You are so very brave,” she said, her voice gentle but steady. “But even the bravest need hugs.”

Nicky ducked his head, a little embarrassed but glowing at the same time. “Yeah. I still want them.”

Violet wrapped her arms around his leg, nearly knocking him off balance. “Ni-ky!” she chirped again, as if hugs were her job too.

Other parents were passing by, kids chattering, the whole world bustling around them, but for those few moments, the four of them were wrapped in their own little bubble. Kisses were pressed to cheeks, hair ruffled, words of encouragement whispered like blessings.

“Okay, you can come with me,” Nicky finally said, cheeks pink. “But only up to the gates. Not all the way inside.”

“Deal,” Rio said immediately, standing and dusting off her jeans.

So together they walked—Agatha holding Violet’s hand, Rio with her arm slung around Nicky’s shoulders. They stopped just short of the gate, where children streamed in.

“This is it,” Agatha said softly.

Nicky hesitated, shifting his backpack. “Okay. I’m ready.” He leaned forward quickly, almost shyly, and kissed both his mothers on the cheek in turn. Then he crouched down to let Violet press a slobbery kiss to his chin, which made them all laugh.

“Have the best day, sweetheart,” Agatha told him.

“Show them who the real line leader is,” Rio added with a wink.

“Bye!” Violet squealed, waving her whole arm wildly.

And then he was off again—this time for real. He slipped into the crowd, glancing back only once to see his family waving. His smile stretched wide before he disappeared into the sea of kids.

The three of them lingered at the gate for a few seconds longer, hearts full, before turning back to the car.

“Next stop,” Rio whispered, lifting Violet into her arms, “butterfly-dragon daycare.”

Agatha smiled faintly, brushing a kiss against Rio’s temple as they walked. “I’m not sure my heart can take another goodbye.”

Rio laughed softly. “Don’t worry. That one will probably kick us out.”

Violet clapped as though in agreement.

And the day carried on.

The car felt quieter on the way to daycare, though Violet didn’t notice. She was far too busy narrating her own little story in the back seat, babbling in her toddler language with the occasional recognizable word popping out—“daw-gon!” “buh-fwy!” and “Ni-cky scool!” Her dragon headband was slightly crooked again, butterfly wings smushed against the car seat, but her joy was unshakable.

Agatha, still steady behind the wheel, glanced in the rearview mirror at her daughter’s exuberance. It should have been reassuring, but she knew the weight pressing in on the passenger seat wasn’t coming from Violet.

Rio sat with her arms crossed tight, staring resolutely out the window. Her jaw was set like she was fighting a losing battle with herself.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Agatha murmured.

“I’m fine,” Rio shot back instantly, without even looking over.

Agatha allowed herself the faintest smirk. “Mm.”

“I am!” Rio turned suddenly, eyes wide, hands flailing a little. “Totally fine! Why wouldn’t I be fine? She’s just—” Her voice cracked, and she slapped a hand over her mouth before it could betray her further.

“Love,” Agatha said softly, reaching across the console to rest her hand on Rio’s thigh, “breathe.”

Rio yanked her hand down dramatically. “She’s just my baby going out into the world!” she burst out, nearly startling Violet into silence. “Alone! Without me or you or Nicky or Lilia, or Alice or Jen, for hours, Agatha—hours!”

From the back seat came a little squeal, followed by Violet clapping her hands. “Buh-fwy!” she cheered, entirely oblivious.

Agatha’s smile tugged wider, though she fought to keep her voice calm. “She won’t be alone, love. There will be teachers. And other children. And finger paints, if I recall correctly.”

Rio’s hands flew up. “Finger paints! She’ll eat them!”

“She’ll survive,” Agatha assured, with the same dry patience she saved for first-year students panicking over essays.

Violet babbled something enthusiastic and kicked her legs against the car seat. To her, this was a grand adventure.

Rio turned around in her seat, unable to resist watching her daughter. “Look at her. She’s not nervous at all. Doesn’t even know what’s happening.”

“She knows enough,” Agatha said gently. “She knows we’ll be back.”

Rio’s throat tightened. “Yeah, but she doesn’t know how long ‘back’ is.”

Silence fell between them for a moment, broken only by Violet’s soft singing—a jumble of half-words, hums, and growls, as if she were practicing being both a butterfly and a dragon.

Agatha squeezed Rio’s thigh again. “You’ve been through this before. You remember Nicky’s first day of second grade?”

Rio groaned, dropping her head back against the seat. “Don’t remind me. I cried in the car for twenty minutes while you lectured me about hydration.”

“I recall advising tissues,” Agatha corrected smoothly.

“Same thing,” Rio muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched.

Agatha leaned slightly closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It will be alright, my love. She will be alright. And when we pick her up this afternoon, she’ll have new stories to babble at us the whole way home.”

That finally drew a laugh out of Rio, watery but real. “You’re lucky you’re so wise. Otherwise, I’d accuse you of being heartless.”

Agatha smirked. “That accusation tends to happen anyway.”

Before Rio could respond, they turned into the daycare parking lot. Children and parents were everywhere, bustling with the nervous excitement of first days. Violet squealed again, pointing wildly at the bright mural painted on the side of the building.

“Buh-fwy!” she shouted, because the mural had one enormous butterfly at its center.

Agatha parked, turned off the car, and gave Rio’s hand one last squeeze. “Ready?”

Rio inhaled deeply, exhaled shakily. “Nope. Let’s do it anyway.”

From the back seat, Violet kicked her legs, grinning from ear to ear. the world wasn’t scary yo her yet—it was just waiting to be discovered.

The daycare parking lot was buzzing with families, little ones clutching stuffed animals, parents carrying bags filled with tiny changes of clothes and labeled lunchboxes. The cheerful butterfly mural seemed to mock the weight in Rio’s chest as she unbuckled Violet from her car seat.

“Okay, love,” she whispered, lifting the toddler into her arms. “It’s just daycare. Just playing. Just… a whole day away from us.”

Agatha closed her door with her usual composure, looping Violet’s little backpack over her own shoulder. “You’re going to make her nervous,” she chided, though her voice wasn’t as steady as she wanted it to be.

Violet, however, was not nervous—at least not yet. Her wings bounced happily against Rio’s arm as she craned her neck to look at the building. “Buh-fwy!” she cheered again, pointing at the mural.

“Exactly, Vivi Moon,” Rio said, kissing her cheek. “Butterfly.”

They made it up the walkway together, Rio clutching Violet a little too tightly, Agatha striding with her head high, the picture of calm. But the moment they reached the door, reality seemed to hit their daughter like a wave.

The instant Violet realized she reallt were going further inside, she twisted in Rio’s arms like a wildcat.

“Uh oh,” Rio murmured, shifting her grip. “We’ve lost her.”

Violet clung to her mother’s neck, tiny fists curling into Rio’s shirt. “Mama no!” she squealed, her little face pressing into Rio’s collarbone.

Agatha stepped closer, reaching for her. “Sweetheart—”

But just as quickly, Violet twisted again, flinging herself down with a determination only a two-years-old could muster and launching herself toward Agatha instead. She wrapped her arms around Agatha’s calf like a barnacle clinging to a rock, cheek pressed to the fabric of her trousers, and refused to budge.

Agatha froze mid-step, her stride cut short by the sudden extra weight. She glanced down, a brow arched in amused exasperation. “Well. This is dignified. Exactly the graceful entrance I had in mind.”

Rio crouched down, tugging gently at the tiny arms locked in a surprisingly iron grip. “Violet, love, you can’t strangle Mama’s leg. She needs that leg to walk. And to dance. And to escape when you’re being cheeky.”

“Nooo!” Violet squealed, shaking her curls, her voice bubbling with both panic and glee as she latched on tighter, as though the floor were lava and Agatha’s leg the last safe island.

Together they managed a sort of stilted shuffle, Agatha dragging one weighted foot forward while Rio coaxed and cajoled in whispers that were equal parts logic and bribery. By the time they reached the doorway, both mothers looked like they’d run an obstacle course.

The educator waiting for them was a woman in her thirties with a warm smile and kind eyes—the sort of person who radiated patience before she even spoke. She crouched down, lowering herself to Violet’s level, careful not to reach for her or move too fast.

“Well, hello there,” she said softly, her tone bright but not overwhelming. “Welcome to your first day. What’s your name, darling?”

Violet peeked out from behind Agatha’s leg, only half her face visible. She gave the stranger a long, suspicious stare, then announced in a small voice, “Vivi.”

Agatha chuckled, brushing a hand through her daughter’s curls. “Her name is Violet. We call her Vivi sometimes. She prefers it when she’s being stubborn.”

The woman nodded continued, voice soft and steady as she crouched besides the little girl. “I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve got lots of toys inside, you know. Would you like to see the kitchen set? Or maybe the blocks?” She gestured toward the room, where a cluster of toddlers were already building a tower nearly taller than themselves.

Violet’s grip loosened ever so slightly, curiosity sparking in her eyes. She watched the tower wobble and tumble, her lips twitching as though she wanted to laugh but wouldn’t give in yet.

“There’s also paint,” the educator added. “And snack time later. With grapes. Cut small, of course.”

At that, Violet looked up at Agatha as if to ask permission.

“See?” Agatha murmured to Rio, smoothing her daughter’s curls. “They know about grapes.”

But Rio, on the other hand, was on the verge of tears. “We’ll be back, baby girl! So soon! After snack! After nap! You’ll barely notice we’re gone!”

Violet, distracted by the mention of snacks, released her death grip on Agatha’s leg to shuffle a few steps forward. But every three seconds, like clockwork, she glanced back to make sure her mothers hadn’t vanished.

“She’s checking,” Rio whispered, her hand clamped on Agatha’s arm. “She’s making sure we’re still here. What if she turns around later and we’re not? What if she thinks we abandoned her? What if she hates it? What if they don’t cut her grapes small enough?”

Agatha inhaled, steadying her expression. “They cut the grapes.”

“Do they? Do they really?”

“Yes, Rio.”

Rio narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. “I’ll come back at snack time to check.”

Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose. “You will not.”

But the lump in her own throat betrayed her. She could play it cool, but her chest was tight, her eyes stung, and the sight of her baby toddling further away—wings bouncing, dragon horns slipping—was almost too much.

The educator straightened, offering a reassuring smile. “We’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

Something in Agatha cracked then, and her teacher voice slipped out before she could stop it. “I should hope so,” she said sharply. “If I find so much as a hair missing—”

“Agatha,” Rio hissed, elbowing her.

The educator didn’t look offended; in fact, she looked amused. “Understood,” she said warmly. “She’ll be safe with us.”

Violet had reached the toy kitchen now, where another little girl in pigtails handed her a plastic spoon. She accepted it solemnly, then stirred the air inside a toy pot like she’d been doing it her whole life. Still, every few seconds, she glanced back. Checking. Making sure her world hadn’t disappeared.

Agatha and Rio lingered at the doorway longer than they should have, waving, blowing kisses, whispering every reassurance they could think of.

Violet seemed to settle. She plopped down cross-legged by the toy stove, spoon in hand, and forgot—for the moment—that her moms weren’t at her side.

Rio’s heart wrenched. She pressed her face into Agatha’s shoulder, muttering, “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m not fine.”

Agatha wrapped an arm around her wife, swallowing hard against her own lump in her throat. “Neither am I.”

Just as they turned toward the door, hearts already bruised and steps dragging, a sharp cry split the air.

“MAMA! MOOOMMY!”

The sound pierced through Rio like lightning. She froze mid-step, her hand clutching the strap of her bag. Agatha’s head whipped around at the same instant, both of them already knowing who it was.

They would recognize Violet’s little voice among thousands.

Their little girl was standing up by the toy kitchen, spoon abandoned, her face crumpling into a wail. Her dragon headband slipped sideways, butterfly wings bent slightly from her scramble, and in a flash she was running—no, barreling—straight back across the room, straight to them.

She flung herself at Rio first, crashing into her legs with enough force that Rio staggered back a step. The toddler’s arms wrapped so tightly around Rio’s knees that her tiny body trembled. “Mama no go!” she sobbed, her voice muffled into Rio’s jeans.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rio gasped, already crouching down to scoop her into her arms. “Oh, my baby.” She clutched Violet against her chest, tears springing immediately to her eyes. “I’m here, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere until you’re ready.”

Agatha was beside them in a heartbeat, her hand smoothing over Violet’s curls. “Oh, darling girl. You scared us.” Her voice was hushed, reverent, like she was speaking into the heart of something fragile.

Violet sobbed harder, burrowing deeper into Rio’s shoulder. Tiny hands clutched at her shirt like if she let go, the world would swallow her whole. “No go! Stay Mama! Stay Mama!”

Rio’s own throat closed up as she pressed frantic kisses into the curls at the top of her daughter’s head. “Okay, okay, love. We’ll stay. We’ll stay right here. You don’t have to let go yet. Not until you’re ready.”

Agatha leaned in, kissing Violet’s damp cheek. “Not until you feel safe, love.” She folded herself around both of them, her arms wrapping tight, making a little cocoon of warmth and safety right there in the daycare doorway.

Other parents passed by, slipping in and out, some casting sympathetic glances, some offering encouraging smiles. The educator gave them space, kneeling nearby but not intruding, her patience like a quiet backdrop.

For long minutes, the three of them stayed tangled together, Violet hiccupping against Rio’s chest, Agatha rubbing soothing circles on her back. Rio whispered every reassurance that came to mind, her words tumbling out between kisses.

“You’re safe. We’ll always come back for you. Always. We’d never leave you, not ever. You’re our brave girl, our clever dragon butterfly baby flower.”

Agatha added her calm, grounding tone between Rio’s flood of affection. “You’re going to play. You’ll make friends. And when the day is done, you’ll run right back into our arms, won’t you? Because we’ll be waiting for you.”

Violet’s sobs slowed gradually, shifting into little shuddering breaths. She pulled back just enough to look at them, eyes shining, lashes wet. “Back?” she asked, voice tiny and wobbly.

Rio’s heart broke and mended all at once. She cupped Violet’s face in her hands. “Of course, love. We promise. We pinky swear, cross our hearts, and everything in between.”

Agatha hooked her pinky around Violet’s little fist, solemn as a judge. “We promise, darling. You’ll see us right here again when the day is done.”

That seemed to calm her just enough. She leaned into Agatha now, arms winding around her neck, pressing her tear-damp face against her mother’s collar. Agatha held her firmly, breathing her in, letting her linger as long as she needed.

Finally, after what felt like forever and not nearly enough, Violet wiggled slightly. Not a full let-go, but a small shift—like testing the idea of being brave.

Agatha kissed her temple. “Do you feel ready to try again, my love? Just for a little while?”

Violet sniffled, then gave the smallest nod, though her arms stayed tight around Agatha’s neck.

Rio rubbed her back gently. “You don’t have to stop missing us while we’re gone. You can miss us and still have fun. And then later, you can tell us all about it.”

Another sniffle. Then, slowly, Violet’s grip loosened. She slid back down into Agatha’s arms until her little feet touched the floor again. Still clinging, but upright now.

The educator approached carefully, crouching low again. She held out a small plush rabbit from the toy bin, soft and beige with fluffy ears. “Would you like to keep this friend with you today, Violet? He’ll help you be brave until Mama and Mommy come back.”

Violet’s eyes lit up at the bunny, her hand shooting out to grab it. She clutched it tight to her chest, glancing back at her mothers like she needed their approval. « Cwatchy? »

“Perfect, just like Señor Scratchy,” Agatha murmured, brushing hair from her forehead. “A bunny for our dragon girl. And Scratchy will be waiting for you at home too. And Yellow Dragon too.”

Rio bent down, kissing her cheek again. “And we’ll be right here at the end of the day. Nothing in the world could keep us away.”

They stayed another few minutes, smothering her in more kisses—on her cheeks, her nose, her forehead—until Violet giggled through the last of her tears, squirming away just a little from the overload. It was only then that they eased their arms away, letting the educator guide her gently back toward the playroom, bunny plush clutched tight.

This time, when Violet glanced back every three seconds, her face was damp but calmer. She saw her moms still there, waving, blowing kisses, hands over their hearts. And slowly, slowly, she turned back toward the other children.

Only when she’d finally settled beside the toy kitchen again did Agatha and Rio straighten, their hands immediately finding each other’s.

“She’ll be okay,” Agatha said softly, though her voice cracked at the edges.

Rio squeezed her hand, eyes brimming again. “Yeah. But will we?”

Agatha glanced at her, a faint, wry smile tugging her lips even as tears threatened. “Eventually.”

And together, they finally stepped out the door—hearts still tethered inside with their little dragon butterfly girl.

The glass doors of the daycare clicked shut behind them, the colorful chatter of children muffling into silence. Agatha and Rio walked slowly toward the car, their joined hands swinging in a rhythm far too calm for the storm inside both their chests. The world outside seemed too normal—traffic rolling past, the late morning sun warming the pavement, birds darting between trees—while everything inside them still spun from the weight of that small goodbye.

The second the car doors closed, Rio slumped against her seat. She clutched her jeans for a moment, staring straight ahead, her lips pressed together like she could will herself into composure. But the tears came anyway, hot and quick, streaking down her cheeks before she could even fumble for a tissue.

Agatha tilted her head, watching her wife with equal parts fondness and ache. “Well,” she murmured, voice threaded with gentle amusement. “You lasted longer than I thought.”

Rio let out a wet laugh, scrubbing at her face. “Don’t tease me,” she sniffled. “I’m very brave. I made it all the way to the car.”

“Yes, love,” Agatha said with mock solemnity, reaching over to squeeze her thigh. “A remarkable display of courage.” But her eyes betrayed her—the shine in them, the way she blinked a little too slowly, her throat moving like she was swallowing her own lump of emotion.

Rio turned to her, catching it instantly. “Oh, don’t you start. You’ve been doing that stoic thing all morning, but I saw your lip wobble when Vivi asked if we’d come back.”

Agatha exhaled, leaning back in her seat, lips curving ruefully. “Guilty,” she admitted. “She’s just so small, Rio. And she looked at us like we were her whole world. Leaving her there…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It felt unnatural.”

Rio nodded fiercely, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. “She’s our baby. And now she’s out there, in the big, terrifying world with strangers who may or may not know how to cut grapes properly.”

At that, Agatha laughed softly, reaching for Rio’s hand again. “She’s ready, love. You know she is. You saw her—bunny plush in hand, trying to be brave. And if she wasn’t ready, we wouldn’t have left her.”

Rio sniffled again, squeezing Agatha’s fingers like they were her anchor. “I know. I just… ugh. It feels like I left a piece of me in there.”

“Of us,” Agatha added gently. “We left a piece of us.”

Silence stretched for a moment, comfortable and heavy all at once. Then Rio let out a breathy laugh. “So, this is weird. What do we even do now? We don’t have Violet tugging at our legs or Nicky asking seven hundred questions about dinosaurs or whether he can have a second breakfast.”

Agatha tilted her head toward her wife, a sly smile curving her lips. “Well, technically, this is the first time in weeks it’s just the two of us. An entire day. Alone.”

Rio blinked, the realization hitting her all at once. “Oh my God. You’re right. It’s like… we’ve been mothers for so long, I forgot we’re also wives who used to go on dates.”

“And occasionally finish a conversation without being interrupted,” Agatha added dryly.

Rio gasped, hand flying to her chest in mock drama. “A whole conversation? You mean we can talk about something other than nap schedules, snacks, or the tragic mystery of the missing sock?”

Agatha smirked, brushing her thumb across Rio’s knuckles. “Imagine the possibilities.”

That earned a laugh, real and unguarded, from Rio. She leaned her head back against the seat, eyes closing briefly. “You know what? Maybe we should. Maybe we should actually do something. A date. Just you and me.”

Agatha raised a brow, amused. “Spontaneous as always.”

“You love it,” Rio shot back, grinning through her tears. “Come on. When was the last time we had a proper date? Not counting grocery shopping while one of them was at grandma’s.”

“Hmm,” Agatha mused, tapping her chin. “That was… two months ago. And it ended with us being called back because Violet decided naps were optional.”

“Exactly!” Rio leaned closer, eyes sparkling now with determination. “This is our chance. School starts tomorrow for us, so we’re free. I really think it was a good idea to start Violet at daycare a day early, so we’re available if anything happens and we can ease her into it more easily. And on top of that, we can actually have a day together. Coffee somewhere that isn’t lukewarm. Maybe a walk. Maybe a bookstore. Maybe…” Her smile softened into something more tender. “Maybe just us, being us.”

Agatha’s teasing expression gave way to something warmer, her gaze lingering on Rio as though she could drink her in. “You always know how to make even the simplest things sound perfect.”

Rio squeezed her hand again, biting her lip. “We’ll keep our phones on, of course. Just in case. If Violet cries too much, if Nicky forgets his lunch, if anything happens—”

“Of course,” Agatha interrupted gently. “We’re mothers. That part doesn’t go away. But we’re also us. We’re still Agatha and Rio.”

Something in that grounded Rio, and she leaned across the console to kiss her wife, soft and lingering. “Okay then,” she whispered against her lips. “Let’s have a date day.”

Agatha hummed, brushing her nose against Rio’s. “Where shall we begin, my love?”

Rio’s grin was immediate, mischievous. “Coffee. The good kind. And a pastry so big you’ll judge me but secretly eat half of it.”

Agatha chuckled, starting the car. “A bold plan.”

As the engine rumbled to life and they pulled out of the daycare parking lot, both of them felt the strange, aching absence of their children. But layered over it was something else—a lightness, a spark they hadn’t indulged in for too long.

They were mothers, yes. And they worried, always. But for today, they were also wives, partners, best friends. And for the first time in a long time, they had the whole day stretched ahead of them—together.

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Chapter Text

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The bell above the coffee shop door jingled as Agatha pushed it open, Rio following close behind. The smell of freshly baked pastries and strong coffee immediately wrapped around them like a warm, familiar blanket. It was the sort of place they could have passed a hundred times on campus walks and never noticed, yet today, it felt like a tiny haven just for them.

“Cute,” Rio murmured, eyes sweeping over the exposed brick walls, the tiny plants on each windowsill, and the mismatched wooden chairs. “Very ‘us,’ if ‘us’ had a preferred aesthetic of cozy chaos.”

Agatha chuckled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I think I like your version of us. Cozy chaos sounds right.” She paused, glancing around at the chalkboard menu with its carefully scrawled coffee selections. “I’ll have a flat white. You?”

“Latte, extra foam,” Rio said without hesitation, already moving toward the counter to place their order. “And maybe a croissant or two to share. You know… for sustenance and moral support.”

Agatha leaned against the wall, watching her with a soft smile. “Moral support,” she echoed, amused. “I think we need it for trying to survive the first day alone without Violet and Nicky.”

Rio shot her a playful glance over her shoulder. “Surviving, yes. Thriving? Possibly. But mostly surviving.”

They moved to a small table by the window, the sunlight streaming in catching Agatha’s hair in a subtle halo. Rio tugged the chair out for her with a little bow, then leaned across the table as soon as Agatha was seated. “So, tell me. What’s first on our day of freedom?”

Agatha considered this, resting her chin in her hand. “We could just… talk. Like adults. Really talk. Not about snack schedules or homework, but about us, the upcoming year, ideas for class, things we actually enjoy debating about.”

Rio’s grin widened. “Perfect. Let’s start with the boring stuff. You’ve been plotting lesson plans all summer, haven’t you?”

Agatha laughed, letting her fingers tap against the table. “Maybe a little and you know that. I’ve been thinking about how we could have a joint seminar this semester. Another one. And we get to see our student crash out about us once again. Priceless.”

Rio’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Imagine them all—our chaos crew—together again. It’s terrifying, but also perfect. I miss them.”

“Exactly,” Agatha said with a smile. “they’re fourth years. They’ll graduate. No more chaotic antics in our hallways. No more last-minute essay crises for them, no more…” She paused, voice softening. “…no more just seeing them grow in front of us every day.”

Rio reached across the table, sliding her hand into Agatha’s. “I know, love. It’s hard to think about. But it’s also beautiful. We’ve watched them become… amazing. They’ll leave us, sure, but they’re ready. And we’ve done our part.”

Agatha squeezed her hand, her lips curving into a small, wistful smile. “I suppose. But still. Emma talking too much, Max and Liam stirring up chaos, Josh being in love with Nina and making a mess of everything, Sophia trying to stay focused but eventually getting roped in—it’s going to be… quieter without them. Too quiet.”

Rio chuckled, brushing her thumb along Agatha’s knuckles. “That’s why we need today. Our mini escape. And we still have a year with them. We’ll make the most of it.”

Their drinks arrived, neatly arranged on a wooden tray with a flaky croissant each on the side. The smell made their stomachs rumble in unison. Rio lifted her latte, grinning. “To surviving the first day without the kids.”

“To thriving at our date day,” Agatha corrected, clinking her cup gently against Rio’s.

They sipped, letting the warmth settle into them, and then the conversation drifted seamlessly into the upcoming academic year. They talked about which students they were excited to see, what changes they wanted to make in their syllabi, and ideas for new discussion projects. Agatha talked avout a plan for a seminar that connected the historical context of Modernist poetry with political movements, and Rio brainstormed ways to bring in personal literary interpretations.

“And we could have group presentations,” Agatha suggested, eyes gleaming. “With debates. You love a good debate.”

Rio laughed, a genuine, unburdened sound that made Agatha’s chest tighten with affection. “I do. And I love watching you get fired up when you win.”

The conversation meandered from students to colleagues to their own goals for the year. Agatha teased Rio about finally finishing her grading earlier than midnight, while Rio plotted little ways to secretly smuggle pastries and stickers into Agatha’s lecture hall.

“You know,” Agatha said quietly, “even though I’m missing the kids today, I’m glad we’re doing this. We need to remember… we’re not just mothers. We’re partners. We’re wives. We’re still us.”

Rio nodded, brushing a loose curl from Agatha’s forehead. “Exactly. And look at us, talking about poetry, chaos, and croissants instead of nap schedules. We’re reclaiming a little piece of normalcy.”

They lingered there, hands entwined across the table, savoring the warmth of the coffee and each other. Outside, the world went on in its usual rush, but inside the coffee shop, the morning stretched out like a gentle promise: a rare, uninterrupted moment where they could breathe, laugh, and plan for the year ahead together—worrying about chaos, but from a distance that felt safe, wrapped up in their love and their quiet, deliberate connection.

Eventually, Agatha leaned back in her chair, a dreamy smile on her face. “We should do this more often. Even when the kids are around, even when chaos is unavoidable. We need… us days.”

Rio’s grin was radiant, a little mischievous. “Agreed. Maybe we make it a tradition. Start the school year with a proper date day. Just us, coffee, and …. us.”

“Deal,” Agatha said, raising her cup again. “To us, to the new academic year, and to surviving our chaotic little family.”

“To us,” Rio echoed, clinking cups once more, letting the warmth of the coffee and each other seep into their bones, knowing that soon enough, they’d be picking up their children again, but for now… for this moment… it was all them.

After their coffee, the couple left the shop, hands still entwined, and walked along the quaint little streets toward a nearby bookstore that Agatha had been meaning to visit for weeks. The dooor creaked  as they entered, and the familiar scent of paper, ink, and polished wood filled the air, instantly comforting them. The world outside—the morning traffic, the lingering anxieties about Violet and Nicky—faded to background noise.

“This place,” Rio said, breathing deeply, “smells like happiness and danger all at once. Dangerous because I could spend an entire paycheck here.”

Agatha smiled knowingly. “That’s the point of a bookstore. You never leave empty-handed.”

They split up naturally, Agatha drawn to the philosophy section for once while Rio drifted toward science and technology, her curiosity always finding the odd, humorous corner of any store. Agatha ran her fingers along the spines of thick, leather-bound tomes, titles on existentialism, ethics, and political philosophy catching her eye. She picked one up, flipping through it, letting herself get lost in the prose and ideas, feeling the thrill of intellectual discovery.

Rio, meanwhile, was already grinning at the shelf marked “Quirky Science & Oddities.” She held up a book titled The Physics of Everyday Goofs: Why Toast Always Lands Butter-Side Down, snickering. “Perfect for your office, love. Or mine, if you want your students laughing before they learn anything serious. And I found another one on space and stars and constellations so I can teach Nicky.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, smiling despite herself. “I may just allow the first one, if only for the comedic relief during grading season. The second one is a given. Get it.”

They wandered back toward each other, Rio holding her ridiculous find and her more serious one that would soon become a beloved in their house, Agatha balancing a tome on Kant’s moral philosophy that they would for sure make fun of later. They passed the children’s section and paused. “We should get something for the kids,” Agatha said softly.

Rio’s face lit up. “Absolutely. Let’s see… Nicky would probably love something adventurous. Or funny. Or both.” She knelt down and ran her hand along the colorful spines, titles bouncing in her eyes. She pulled out a book with a cover they both recognized instantly. “Look—The Little Prince. Classic. I don’t think we’ve ever read it to him. It’s poetic, and beautiful. I think it might appeal to our big boy.”

Agatha smiled. “Perfect. And Violet?” She crouched beside Rio, letting her gaze drift across the smaller books. “Something she can babble through, point at, or chew on, preferably not requiring full sentences.”

Rio picked up a sturdy board book with big pictures of animals, each page filled with simple words and textures. “This is perfect. Farm animal and talking trees, perfect for our little forest spirit. She’ll love it.”

With the books in hand, they returned to the main area of the store, shoulders brushing, still in the rhythm of quiet intimacy. Agatha held her new philosophy tome, sliding her fingers along the spine. “You know,” she said, “there’s something thrilling about buying books when we don’t have to reign in little voices or keep little hands from touching everything in sight. Just us, deciding freely.”

Rio grinned, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. “I know. Except now we’re thinking about Nicky and Violet too. But that’s… good thinking.” She held the animal book up as if presenting a trophy. “Mission accomplished.”

They wandered the aisles together for a while, showing each other their finds. Agatha pointed out a particularly elegant edition of a Wordsworth collection, joking that it would make Rio’s students tremble with respect—and perhaps confusion considering the French Revolution themes—before the first lecture. Rio teased Agatha by pretending the book was a magic wand, waving it dramatically in front of her.

Finally, satisfied with their selections, they made their way to the checkout, Rio balancing the science books in one arm and the children’s books in the other, Agatha carrying her philosophy tome like a ridiculous prize. The cashier, a young man with a friendly grin, scanned each item, and they paid, the transaction punctuated by shared smiles and quiet laughter.

As they left the store, Rio held the bags close, walking arm in arm with Agatha. “You know,” she said, “I love seeing you get excited over books. It’s… kind of adorable.”

Agatha tilted her head, mock offended. “Adorable? Really? I thought it was more intimidating and awe-inspiring.”

Rio laughed, tugging her closer. “Both, of course. Mostly adorable, though. And now, we have books for us and our little ones. I think we’re winning this parenting/love combo thing.”

Agatha nodded, smiling warmly at the playful tone in Rio’s voice. “Yes. It’s a delicate balance, isn’t it? Between being ourselves and being for them. But today… today it’s working.”

After leaving the bookstore, Agatha and Rio wandered down the cobblestone streets of the town, the sun warm on their shoulders and the gentle bustle of late morning around them. The bag from the bookstore swung lightly between them, though both of them were far more interested in the exploration itself than in the weight of purchases. Rio paused abruptly, her eyes lighting up as she spotted a tiny, tucked-away antique shop squeezed between a florist and a café.

“Look at this place,” Rio said, stepping closer and peering through the window. “It’s like someone shrunk a museum and stuffed it in a corner. Grandma aesthetics, Agatha. You’re going to love it.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes playfully, letting her lips twitch into a teasing smirk. “Grandma aesthetics? Really, my love? And here I thought you preferred chic, modern spaces.”

Rio smirked back. “Modern is fine, but a little dusty charm… I think you’re secretly into it. Don’t deny it.”

Agatha rolled her eyes but followed Rio inside, the little bell above the door jingling as they stepped in. The shop smelled of old wood, polished brass, and faintly of lavender sachets tucked into drawers. Shelves were stacked haphazardly with delicate porcelain figurines, tarnished silverware, books with cracked spines, and tiny curiosities that looked like they might hold centuries of stories.

“I could get lost in here,” Agatha said softly, her fingers grazing the edges of a carved wooden box. “There’s so much history in everything. You can almost feel the hands that touched these objects before.”

Rio wandered a few steps ahead, examining an old globe, spinning it slowly with a grin. “Yeah, and you can also feel how old it is by how heavy it is. Who decided globes needed to weigh a ton, anyway?”

Agatha chuckled quietly, shaking her head. “Somebody with patience. Something you wouldn’t understand, you restless child.”

Rio stuck her tongue out and playfully nudged Agatha’s arm. “Hey! I have plenty of patience. It’s called selective patience. I can’t help it if antique globes aren’t on my list of priorities.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips with amusement. “Selective patience. That’s… reasonable, I suppose. Again, I’ll allow it.”

They drifted through the narrow aisles together, occasionally brushing shoulders, each silently enjoying the presence of the other. Rio’s gaze landed on a tiny silver box, a bit tarnished but still delicate and lovely. She picked it up, examining the clasp and the subtle engraving. Without saying a word, she hid it out of her wife’s view and gave Agatha a sly glance.

“What’s that for?” Agatha asked suspiciously.

Rio smiled innocently. “Nothing. Just… appreciating craftsmanship. That’s all.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed again, sensing Rio’s mischievous energy. “Mhmm. Appreciating craftsmanship. Sure. And that craftsmanship will mysteriously appear in my possession later?”

Rio grinned, leaning closer. “Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll see.”

They wandered past shelves of crystal figurines, stacks of yellowed letters tied with ribbons, and a small cabinet filled with old pocket watches. Rio picked one up, turning it over in her hands. “Do you think people ever imagined we’d be wandering antique shops together someday, you know, with a decade between us and still managing to survive each other’s chaos?”

Agatha smiled softly, shaking her head. “Probably not. But if they did… they would have been wrong about surviving chaos. We thrive on it.”

Rio laughed, setting the watch back down and glancing at Agatha with warmth in her eyes. “You really are something, you know that?”

“And you,” Agatha replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “are unbearable but charming enough that I let it slide.”

They continued exploring, making small jokes and playful quips about “grandma aesthetics” and “childish chaos,” their words threading together like an easy rhythm. Rio would spot something quirky, Agatha would comment in her dry, teasing tone, and they would laugh quietly, savoring the privacy of this moment. No children, no responsibilities—just them.

Eventually, Rio returned from the counter, pulling the silver box from her pocket with a triumphant grin. “Okay, fine. I may have secretly bought something. But it’s for you. Consider it… a tribute to your antique-loving, slightly terrifying, wildly brilliant self.”

Agatha blinked, touched despite herself, and reached over to squeeze Rio’s hand. “You are ridiculous. And thoughtful. Somehow, you manage both at the same time.”

Rio grinned. “It’s a gift. That’s literally what I do. I give gifts. Sometimes sarcastically, sometimes emotionally, and sometimes ridiculously.”

Agatha shook her head, her smile soft and fond. “I should be used to you by now. But I’m not. And I like that.”

They left the shop arm in arm, Rio swinging her bag lightly, Agatha holding the box carefully in her hand. The sunlight spilled across the cobblestones, warming their faces as they walked in silence for a moment, simply enjoying the closeness. They were just Agatha and Rio, teasing, laughing, and savoring a little world of their own making.

By the time they reached the corner of the street, their stomachs were reminding them that a date day required more than bookstores and window-shopping. Rio stretched her arms dramatically as they walked, the bookshop bag swinging from her wrist.

“I’m starving,” she declared, loud enough that a man passing with a briefcase gave her a startled glance.

Agatha smirked. “You’re always starving.”

Rio bumped her wife’s shoulder, grinning. “And you always indulge me. That’s balance, my love.”

They wandered past a row of cafés and bistros, most of them familiar. They had a handful of usual haunts where they knew the menu by heart, and Agatha was already steering in the direction of their favorite Italian spot when Rio tugged her back.

“No, no. We said date day. Date day means new things. We can’t just eat the same pasta we always do.”

Agatha gave her a look, one eyebrow perfectly arched. “You mean the pasta I like? The one that never disappoints me?”

“Yes, exactly that pasta,” Rio said with mock solemnity. “And that’s precisely why we’re not going there. Live dangerously with me.”

Agatha groaned under her breath but let Rio drag her into a little café she’d never noticed before. The sign above the door was painted with delicate lettering, and the chalkboard menu out front promised “seasonal specials” and “chef’s whimsy.” Agatha muttered something about whimsy being suspicious, but Rio’s bright eyes won her over.

They were seated on the terrace, shaded by an awning, with a small pot of wildflowers on the table. The clink of cutlery, the hum of conversations, and the occasional bark of a dog on the street gave the place an unpolished charm.

When the menus arrived, Agatha scanned hers quickly and immediately pointed to something safe and reliable—grilled chicken with rosemary potatoes. Rio, however, leaned back dramatically in her chair, eyes sparkling as she perused the “chef’s whimsy” section.

“I’m going to order this,” Rio declared, tapping the paper. “The spiced lentil-mango stew with… uh… fermented radish garnish.”

Agatha slowly lowered her menu to look at her. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not! It sounds exciting. Exotic. Bold.”

“It sounds like indigestion,” Agatha said flatly, but Rio only grinned wider.

When their food arrived, Agatha’s plate looked exactly as she had expected: golden potatoes, perfectly seared chicken, neatly arranged vegetables. Rio’s dish, however, was a vibrant, chaotic bowl of orange stew with alarming pink radish slices floating on top.

Rio took her first bite, then immediately tried not to grimace. Agatha, watching her closely, smirked.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?”

“No,” Rio said, chewing valiantly. “It’s… it’s… complex.”

Agatha took her own bite of chicken, waiting.

Rio leaned over, eyeing her plate. “Maybe I’ll just have a taste of yours, for comparison.” Without waiting for permission, she stabbed a potato with her fork.

“Rio,” Agatha warned.

But Rio was already eating it. “Mmm. Yep. That’s way better.”

Agatha sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but she slid her plate a little closer anyway. “You always do this. You order something ridiculous and then steal my food.”

Rio shrugged innocently. “That’s why we work, love. You’re the cautious one, and I’m the adventurous disaster. Balance, remember?”

Agatha shook her head but reached for Rio’s bowl with her fork. “Fine. Let’s see what’s so terrible.” She scooped up a bit of the stew, tasted it—then paused.

Rio leaned forward eagerly. “Well?”

Agatha raised her eyebrows. “It’s… not bad.”

“What?!” Rio spluttered, nearly dropping her fork. “No way. You like this?”

“I actually do. It has… depth. The spices are interesting. You’re just dramatic.”

Rio pointed at her. “That’s not fair. I’m the dramatic one. You can’t like my food more than me.”

Agatha calmly slid the stew toward herself. “We’re switching. You can have the chicken.”

Rio gaped, then laughed until she had tears in her eyes. “Unbelievable. I order the adventure and you reap the rewards. Typical you move.”

They swapped plates, both secretly pleased with the outcome. They ate slowly, lingering in the warmth of the day, watching the steady flow of people passing by on the street.

“Okay,” Rio said, pointing discreetly at a man in a wide-brimmed hat walking a tiny dog. “That guy? Secretly a retired spy. The dog? Actually his handler.”

Agatha smirked, wiping her mouth. “Please. Look at that dog. That’s not a handler. That’s a mastermind. The man just follows orders.”

Rio snorted, covering her mouth with her napkin. A moment later, she pointed again—this time at a pair of teenagers carrying shopping bags. “Those two? Definitely plotting to start a garage band. But only one of them can play an instrument.”

“And the other,” Agatha added smoothly, “insists on being lead singer anyway.”

They kept it up, inventing elaborate backstories for strangers, sometimes ridiculous, sometimes oddly detailed. Between their whispers and their laughter, they leaned closer and closer until Agatha stole a quick kiss.

Rio smiled against her lips. “You know, people-watching is way more fun with you.”

Agatha brushed her thumb across Rio’s knuckles, her voice warm but teasing. “That’s because you need me to make your chaotic stories sound believable.”

Rio grinned, resting her chin on her hand, gazing at her wife. “Or maybe I just need you, period.”

Agatha rolled her eyes fondly, but her hand tightened around Rio’s.

For a little while, over swapped plates and silly stories, the world felt soft and easy—just them, the sunshine, and the small sweetness of a stolen afternoon together.

By the time the afternoon sun started mellowing into gold, Agatha and Rio found themselves walking back toward the daycare. Neither admitted it out loud, but their strides had picked up the closer they got. Their phones had remained blessedly quiet all day—no emergency calls, no panicked messages from the daycare’s workers—and yet both of them had kept checking, almost compulsively. Every time, Agatha had raised an eyebrow at Rio’s “just making sure,” though she herself had swiped her screen under the table at least twice.

Now, standing in front of the low brick building with its cheerful painted windows, Rio’s heart thumped against her ribs. “Do you think she’ll be mad at us?” she whispered as they reached the door, as if the daycare itself might overhear.

Agatha gave her a sidelong glance. “She’s two, Rio. She has the emotional memory of a goldfish.”

“Not true,” Rio muttered, tugging on her sleeve. “She’s sensitive. She remembers everything. What if she thinks we abandoned her forever?”

“Forever, hm?” Agatha murmured, but the lump in her throat betrayed her calm tone. She felt it too—the pull of walking away earlier, the echo of Violet’s little cry. Even now, she wanted nothing more than to scoop their daughter up and keep her pressed against her chest.

They signed in at the reception desk and followed the hallway down to Violet’s ‘classroom’. The door was propped open, and the sound of children’s laughter and chatter spilled out. For a heartbeat, Rio froze in the doorway, her hand clutching Agatha’s arm.

And then—

“Mamaaaa!”

Violet’s voice rang across the room, high and thrilled. Their little girl spun from where she had been crouched near a pile of blocks and bolted toward them. Her overalls were splattered with paint, her curls sticking up in all directions, her socks now weirdly mismatched. She ran at full toddler speed, stumbling once but catching herself, determination on her tiny face.

Both women crouched instinctively, arms opening wide just as Violet barreled into them with all the force her small body could manage. She clung fiercely to their legs, little fists grabbing fabric, as if they’d been gone for years instead of just one afternoon.

Rio scooped her up first, squeezing her so tightly Violet squealed, half laughing, half crying. “Oh, my baby, my baby! Did you miss us that much?”

Violet nodded against her shoulder, wrapping her arms around Rio’s neck. Agatha leaned in, pressing a kiss to Violet’s temple, brushing her curls back. The smell of finger paint and snack crumbs clung to her, achingly familiar.

“See?” Agatha whispered, voice warm but thick. “Messy but alive.”

Rio sniffled, swaying with their daughter in her arms. “I don’t care. I’m never leaving her again.”

Violet wiggled a little, pulling back just enough to look at them both, her lower lip trembling before she broke into a bright grin. “Paint!” she declared, holding up her small hand, still smudged with streaks of blue and yellow.

Rio gasped in exaggerated awe. “Oh my goodness! Look at those beautiful fingers!” She kissed each one dramatically until Violet giggled, squirming.

Agatha chuckled and glanced up as one of the educators approached with a kind smile. In her hands were Violet’s dragon headband and the little butterfly wings she’d been wearing earlier. “She had a good day,” the woman assured them. “A few tears after you left, but she calmed quickly. She loved painting. Very curious, very social.”

Agatha accepted the items with her free hand, nodding with composed gratitude while Rio whispered “thank you” with watery eyes.

“She even tried the grapes at snack time,” the educator added warmly.

Rio’s jaw dropped. “Cut up properly?”

“Yes, ma’am. Very small.”

Agatha shot her wife a look, half amused, half exasperated, but Rio ignored it, burying her face in Violet’s curls again. “See, baby? You survived without us.”

“Snack!” Violet shouted proudly, smearing a sticky hand against Rio’s cheek.

Agatha reached over to wipe Rio’s face, laughing softly. “She’s fine. More than fine. She’s thriving.”

They set Violet down for a moment so she could show them the full scope of her afternoon’s adventures. She tugged them over to the low art table, where papers covered in finger-paint handprints dried in uneven piles. Violet pointed at one with a mix of green, pink, and indigo blobs that barely resembled anything.

“Mine!” she proclaimed, chest puffed out.

Agatha crouched down to look at it seriously. “It’s beautiful,” she said with complete conviction. “Very avant-garde. Clearly influenced by the post-Impressionists.”

Rio gave her a playful nudge. “Don’t bring art history into this. She’s a genius all on her own.” She bent down to Violet. “Baby, this belongs on our fridge. Front and center.”

Violet beamed, clapping her paint-stained hands together.

Her overalls were a battlefield—splashes of red paint, streaks of yellow, crumbs from what must have been crackers or cookies, and a faint sticky patch from juice. Her cheeks were rosy, her curls wild, but her grin was pure sunshine. She looked like a little whirlwind of chaos and joy.

As they finally gathered her things, tucking wings and headband into the bag, Rio lifted Violet again, hugging her tight. Agatha stroked her back gently, her voice soft and certain. “Messy, happy, and completely fine.”

Rio pressed her cheek to Violet’s. “Completely perfect,” she whispered.

And just like that, the knot of worry that had lived in their chests all day loosened. Their little girl had taken her first step into the world without them and come running right back, arms open wide. She was okay. More than okay. She was thriving, learning, and still their same Violet—paint-stained fingers, crumbs, dragon wings, and all.

The late afternoon sun was already tilting low by the time Agatha, Rio, and Violet left the daycare, Violet perched on Agatah’s hip like she belonged there forever. Her curls bounced with each step, her tiny paint-streaked hand patting her mother’s collarbone as if she were marking her territory. Rio carried the daycare bag with its stuffed dragon wings sticking out and the butterfly headband looped around her wrist like an odd sort of bracelet.

“Alright, my loves,” Agatha said as they reached the car. “Next stop: big brother.”

“Nini!” Violet squealed, clapping her sticky hands together. The sound was equal parts cheer and war cry.

Rio grinned, buckling her in. “Exactly. Time to pick up Nicky.” She leaned close to whisper conspiratorially, “He’ll never believe how messy you got.”

Violet gave her a dramatic gasp, as though she’d just been told the best secret in the world.

The drive to Nicky’s school was short, and soon enough they were pulling into the line of cars outside the gates. Children spilled out onto the pavement in chaotic clusters, laughing, yelling, showing each other projects and playground scrapes. Rio craned her neck out the window like she was on a rescue mission.

“There he is!” she said suddenly, pointing like she’d spotted rare wildlife.

Nicky came bounding out with his backpack bouncing against his shoulders, his hair tousled, his shirt already half untucked like he’d been through battle. The moment he spotted their car, his face split into a grin and he waved wildly before running up.

“Mom! Mama! Violet!” he shouted, breathless, as he yanked the door open and scrambled in. He immediately leaned forward to press a kiss to his baby sister’s head, then threw himself against Rio and Agatha inn quick succession in a quick hug before clambering back to buckle up.

Rio turned in her seat, watching him like she’d missed him for a decade. “How was it, champ?”

Nicky practically vibrated with energy. “It was the best day! I’m in Ms. Reynolds’s class and guess what? » he said, blushing a little. « Sophie is with me—Sophie! From ballet class! She switched schools ! And we get the same lunch period so we can sit together every day, and Leo was there too, and guess what else? We get to start science projects next week, and we’re gonna build volcanoes that actually explode, with real lava—well, not real lava, but vinegar and baking soda lava—and I got to sit by the window, and—”

Agatha chuckled, eyes soft as she watched him in the rearview mirror. “Breathe, Nicholas. Breathe.”

Nicky sucked in a dramatic gasp, then laughed. “Sorry, Mama. There’s just so much to tell you! Oh! And at recess, Tommy tripped but then he did this huge superhero pose when he landed, and everyone laughed, but he said he meant to do it.” He dissolved into giggles, reliving the moment.

Rio laughed too, shaking her head. “Classic Tommy Maximoff. He’ll never admit when he actually falls.”

“Exactly!” Nicky said, seemingly happy that someone understood what he had been trying to tell them for years.

Violet, catching the rhythm of his excitement, started clapping again, squealing, “Ni-cky! Ni-cky! Ni-cky!” Her paint-streaked fingers waved in the air like a banner.

That was when Nicky turned his full attention to her. “Hey, Vivi Bee,” he said, leaning forward so his seatbelt stretched. “What about you, huh? What did you do today?”

Violet’s whole face lit up. She launched into a stream of babbles, complete with hand gestures. “Pa! Pa! Fingies! Boo! Snaaaack! Boom!” She held up her tiny stained fingers for emphasis, beaming with pride.

Nicky stared, wide-eyed and reverent. “Whoa,” he whispered. “That sounds amazing.”

Rio smothered a laugh behind her hand. “You understood that?”

“Of course I did,” Nicky said confidently, grinning at his baby sister. “She painted, she had a snack, and then there was some kind of explosion. Right, Vivi?”

Violet squealed with delight, bouncing in her car seat. “BOOM!” she confirmed, loud and joyous.

Agatha arched an eyebrow. “Remarkably accurate translation, Dr. Harkness-Vidal.”

He puffed his chest out. “I speak fluent Violet.”

Rio reached back to ruffle his hair, her voice dripping with affection. “Oh, you’re the best big brother in the world.”

“Obviously,” he said with a grin, basking in the praise. « Ice cream now ? You promised ! »

« Yes. Ice cream. »

« Scweem ! »

« Good job, Vivi Moon. Ice cream. »

For the rest of the drive to the ice cream parlor, the car was filled with their overlapping chatter: Nicky retelling school stories with wild hand motions, Violet chiming in with babbled commentary that made perfect sense only to her (and maybe Nicky), Rio laughing so hard tears pricked her eyes, and Agatha trying and failing to maintain her composure behind the wheel.

By the time they pulled into the shop parking lot, Violet was chanting “Nickyyy, Nickyyy” like a little song, and Nicky was showing her the stickers he’d gotten from his teacher, carefully peeling one off his notebook to stick onto the front of her paint-covered overalls. She gasped as if it were her gold star from her first space travel, patting it proudly.

“Then Ms. Reynolds said I could help pass out papers because I’m responsible—”

“Sible!” Violet echoed triumphantly, clapping.

“Exactly,” Nicky said, absolutely delighted. “And then we learned about magnets, and she let me try—”

“Maggy!” Violet interrupted, nodding vigorously.

Rio caught Agatha’s eye over the scene, as they got out of the car, her heart so full it felt like it might burst. “I don’t think she knows what she’s saying,” she whispered.

Agatha slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Doesn’t matter. He thinks she does. And that’s what counts.”

Together, they stood there for a moment, watching their children share stories—one with full sentences tumbling out in rapid succession, the other with babbles and sticky fingers and a radiant smile. Different languages, maybe, but perfectly in sync.

Nicky practically launched himself through the door of the ice cream aprlour, his sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor.

“I call dibs on the biggest cone they have!” he announced at full volume, throwing his hands up like he’d just declared a national holiday.

Rio followed close behind with Violet perched on her hip, laughing as she tried to keep up with Nicky’s burst of energy. Violet had both chubby arms stretched out toward the display case, bouncing against Rio’s side like a wind-up toy that couldn’t contain itself.

“’Cweam! ’Cweam!” she babbled, her little voice high and insistent. Her curls flopped into her eyes, but she barely noticed, too busy pointing with both hands like she couldn’t risk them misunderstanding her.

Agatha shut the door behind them with her usual grace, slipping the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. “One might think we never feed you children dessert,” she said dryly, but the fond curve of her lips betrayed her.

The four of them pressed up against the glass case, a rainbow of flavors lined up before them. The air smelled faintly of sugar cones, waffle batter, and syrup—a scent that made Rio’s inner child nearly as giddy as the kids.

Rio shifted Violet higher on her hip, leaning close to the glass. “Okay, Baby Moon,” she said, her voice light with mock seriousness. “Anything but chocolate. I mean it. Look at all these wonderful choices! Strawberry, vanilla, even rainbow sherbet. Anything but chocolate, because you’ll wear more than you eat, and you’ll look like a crime scene, and we’ll never get the stain off. I swear chocolate stains are terrible.”

“Cholate!” Violet squealed, clapping her paint-smeared hands. “Cholate! Mama, SHOKLIT!”

Rio groaned, tilting her head back dramatically. “Oh, come on! Really? Of all the options?”

Agatha smirked, resting a hand on Rio’s shoulder. “You might as well surrender now. You won’t win.”

“I will not,” Rio declared, narrowing her eyes at her toddler. “Violet, let’s be reasonable—”

But Violet wasn’t listening; she had spotted the tubs of dark and milk chocolate, pressing her forehead to the glass as though she could dive in.

Rio sighed, defeated, and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s curls. “Fine. Chocolate. But if you end up looking like a mud monster, don’t come crying to me.”

“Cholate!” Violet crowed again, smug in her victory.

Meanwhile, Nicky was crouched down, peering at the lower row of flavors like he was making a scientific discovery. “What’s cotton candy? Or bubblegum? They look weird. Why is that one blue? Are they even real?”

“Real enough,” Agatha said, scanning the labels.

“I’m trying one,” he declared, puffing his chest. “I’m adventurous.”

Rio raised an eyebrow. “That’s my line, kiddo.”

“Yeah, well, I stole it.” He ordered a bubblegum scoop with the seriousness of someone making a lifelong commitment.

Agatha ordered her usual—mint chocolate chip, in a neat single scoop on a sugar cone.

“Oh my God, Agatha,” Rio said, horror in her voice. “That’s the most professor choice ever. Mint chocolate chip? You know that tastes like toothpaste, right? Toothpaste with chocolate chunks.”

Agatha gave her an amused, imperious look. “I’ll have you know it’s refined. Refreshing. And you say that every time. Usually followed by something like ‘Don’t even think about kissing me after eating that monstrosity’.” She continued, in a terrible imitation of Rio’s voice.

Rio gasped. “First of all, I don’t sound like that. Second, I say that because I’m right. It’s gross.”

“It’s dignified,” Agatha countered smoothly.

“It’s gross,” Rio repeated, wrinkling her nose.

Violet babbled something incoherent that ended in a squeal, which Rio immediately translated. “See? Violet agrees with me.”

Agatha only smirked, clearly unbothered, and stepped aside with her cone.

When it was Rio’s turn, she grinned at the kids. “Alright, what’s the most colorful, ridiculous flavor you’ve got back there?” she asked the teen behind the counter. A scoop of rainbow sherbet landed in her cone a moment later, practically glowing under the lights.

Nicky gasped in awe. “That’s the coolest ice cream I’ve ever seen.”

Rio bowed her head like a knight being honored. “Thank you, kind sir.”

They found a table near the window, Violet already squirming for her scoop of chocolate in a cup with a tiny spoon. The first bite smeared across her cheeks almost instantly, but she was too busy humming happily to notice. Rio reached for a napkin, dabbing at her daughter’s sticky face.

“Hold still, Picasso,” she muttered, gently wiping at her chin.

Agatha, of course, had her phone out, snapping a discreet picture while Violet blinked up with wide brown eyes, chocolate streaked from ear to ear.

Nicky took a bold lick of his blue bubblegum scoop. The second the flavor hit his tongue, his nose wrinkled and his eyes widened.

“…Delicious,” he declared quickly, giving them two exaggerated thumbs up.

Rio burst out laughing. “That’s the face of a boy who regrets everything.”

“I do not!” Nicky insisted, forcing another bite. He winced, but stuck with it. “It’s… amazing. Totally amazing. Don’t even want to try yours, Mommy.”

“Sure you don’t.” Rio smirked, shielding her sherbet cone dramatically as he leaned closer. “Don’t even think about it, mister. This is mine. My rainbow fortress. Protected by magic.”

He lunged, trying to steal a lick. She yelped, holding it high above her head like a prize. “No! How dare you attempt to storm my fortress!”

Nicky giggled so hard he nearly tipped off his chair. “I just want one taste!”

“No! Treason!” Rio cried, keeping it away until he finally managed a triumphant swipe with his tongue.

He grinned, victorious. “Totally worth it.”

Rio gasped. “I’ve been betrayed!” She put a hand dramatically over her heart, leaning against Agatha’s shoulder for support. “Betrayed by my own child.”

Agatha, composed as ever, licked her cone neatly and said, “I did warn you. Between the two of them, you were doomed. By the way, Nicky, you should know your mom did the exact same thing at lunch.”

Rio shot her a look, then grinned. “Yeah, yeah. We know you’re the only one here eating like a civilized person.”

“Always,” Agatha said smoothly, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin, the picture of elegance.

The table dissolved into laughter again, Violet clapping chocolate-sticky hands and chanting “Nickyyy!” as though cheering him on. Their little family was loud, messy, and happy, the ice cream parlor filled with their joy.

By the time they stepped out of the ice cream parlor, ice-cream traded, finished and polished,  the sun was slipping low on the horizon, painting the street in warm orange and gold. The air had cooled just enough to be pleasant, carrying the faint scent of cut grass and someone grilling nearby.

They found a bench right outside, half in the shade of a leafy tree, and settled there like they’d done it a hundred times before. Agatha sat on the left, her arm sliding naturally around Rio’s shoulders. Rio melted into the touch, leaning against her wife as though her place had always been there.

Nicky and Violet occupied the bench space on their right, swinging their legs wildly. Nicky’s sneakers thumped rhythmically against the wood, while Violet kicked in uneven bursts in the air, sticky little hands clapping at random intervals.

Nicky launched into another story from his first day, words tumbling over each other in his eagerness. “—and then at recess, Tommy challenged me to a race, and I lost again, because Tommy is just too fast, and then Sophie said we should all be on the same team next time and I said yes because I always want to be on her team, and then—oh!—guess what, I got asked to help hand out the papers in class. That’s like, basically assistant teacher.”

Agatha gave a small chuckle. “Quite the promotion, darling. Do you expect a salary?”

“Yeah,” Nicky said without missing a beat. “In cookies.”

Rio snorted, nudging him lightly with her knee. “Dream big, champ.”

At that moment, Nicky hopped down from the bench and crouched in front of Violet. “C’mon, Vivi,” he said, tilting forward. “Want a piggyback ride?”

Violet’s entire face lit up. She clapped her barely cleaned hands and squealed, “Play! Play! Fwiend!”

Her moms exchanged a quick glance, hearts tugging at the new words.

“Did she just say friend?” Rio asked softly, eyes wide with delight.

Agatha’s smile deepened, the sort that crinkled her eyes. “She did.”

“New word. Okay, that’s it,” Rio said, putting a hand dramatically over her chest. “She’s basically a genius.”

Violet toppled onto her brother’s back with all the grace of a sack of potatoes, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck. Nicky staggered a little under her weight, but straightened proudly. “See? I’m strong! Strongest big brother in the world!”

“Stwong!” Violet echoed, half muffled in his hair.

Agatha and Rio watched as he paraded back and forth in front of them, his little sister squealing with glee at every bounce. The bench shook with their laughter.

Rio reached up and squeezed Agatha’s hand, her tone softer now but still edged with teasing. “Looks like we survived our first first-day-all-around.”

Agatha’s fingers tightened around hers. “We did more than survive, my love. We made it something to remember.”

For a moment, Rio just looked at her, caught off guard by the warmth in Agatha’s voice. She leaned over and pressed her temple against her wife’s shoulder, soaking in the truth of it.

Eventually, the piggyback parade wound down, and the family began their walk home. Nicky bounded to Rio’s side, slipping his hand into hers without hesitation. His palm was sticky with ice cream, but Rio didn’t mind. She just squeezed back.

Agatha walked a step behind with Violet curled against her, the little girl drooping with sleep now. Her curls stuck to her chocolate-smeared cheeks, her fist clutching the hem of Agatha’s blouse. Each step Agatha took rocked her gently, and by the time they reached their car, her eyelids were fluttering.

Rio glanced over her shoulder at them, her heart tightening at the sight of her wife carrying their drowsy toddler with such natural tenderness. The moment felt fleeting and eternal all at once.

“I hope they always remember little traditions like this,” Rio whispered, half to herself, her voice barely above the rustle of the leaves.

Agatha’s gaze softened as she caught the words, pressing a kiss to the crown of Rio’s head. “They will,” she murmured. “Because so will we.”

Rio swallowed the lump in her throat, her grip on Nicky’s hand tightening as they kept walking together into the twilight.

*

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Chapter Text

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The house was buzzing with its particular brand of morning chaos—the one that came only on days that mattered. The second morning of September felt alive in its own way: coffee brewing, toast popping up, kids squealing and chasing each other through the kitchen, the family’s rhythm slightly uneven as they adjusted to the new school-year routine.

Rio stood at the foot of their bed, holding up two blazers in front of the mirror with a furrowed brow. One was hers, cropped and sleek-- the other, Agatha’s, longer and with sharper shoulders.

“Yours just makes the whole look pop,” she declared, draping Agatha’s blazer over her own shoulders like she’d already won the argument. She turned, giving her wife a twirl. “Admit it. It completes the outfit better on me.”

Agatha, still smoothing her hair into its neat twist, arched an unimpressed brow at the sight. “You realize you’re confessing to theft, love.”

“It’s not theft if I look better in it.” Rio smirked, tugging at the lapels like she was on a runway. “It’s fashion evolution. Also, what’s yours is mine.”

Agatha crossed the room, her perfume trailing faintly behind her, and with maddening elegance took hold of the necklace Rio had abandoned on the dresser. “Stand still,” she commanded softly.

Rio obeyed, tilting her chin down just enough for Agatha to clasp the chain at the back of her neck. The brush of cool fingers lingered there a second too long, deliberate. Agatha bent slightly, her lips close to Rio’s ear. “You’d never make it out of the house on time without me.”

Rio grinned, warmth spreading through her chest. “Maybe I’m just making excuses to have you dress me,” she said, her voice teasing, daring Agatha to argue.

Agatha’s eyes flicked up, sharp and amused. She let her fingers linger on the pendant a moment longer, adjusting it with care. “Flattery won’t get you another blazer,” she said, tone cool, though the faint curve of her lips betrayed her amusement.

“Worth a try,” Rio replied, tipping her head back like she was daring Agatha to test her. She didn’t budge, the blazer draped over her shoulders like a challenge.

Agatha stepped closer, her presence commanding the room. “You’re insufferable when you do that,” she murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Rio’s ear. “And dangerously confident.”

“Oh, I thought dangerously confident was my charm,” Rio shot back, arching an eyebrow. “Are you telling me it’s not working?”

Agatha’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “It is… maddeningly so.” She bent slightly, just enough for her voice to drop into a husky, intimate whisper that made Rio shiver. “But you know what would really work on me?”

Rio leaned in, mock-suspicious. “Do tell. I’m all ears, Mistress of Fashion and Subtle Threats.”

Agatha’s gaze darkened, a playful gleam in her eyes. “I’d much rather undress you, darling wife.”

Rio’s cheeks flamed crimson, and she swatted at Agatha, laughing but failing to hide the heat in her eyes. “You’re terrible,” she gasped, half-indignant, half-thrilled.

“And you love it,” Agatha countered, voice low, teasing, almost daring. Her hand lingered at Rio’s shoulder, brushing just enough to make her pulse stutter.

“Maybe I do,” Rio admitted, biting back a grin, “but don’t think this means I’m giving up the blazer. I think it’s mine now.”

Agatha’s laugh was soft, amused, and slightly dangerous. “We’ll see about that,” she said, eyes glinting. “But I warn you… I’m very persuasive when I want something.”

Rio smirked, tilting her head. “Challenge accepted. But don’t be surprised if I start charging you for borrowing it.”

Agatha’s smile widened, slow and wicked. “Oh, I knows you'll collect… but I have a feeling it won’t be in blazers.”

Rio froze for a heartbeat, catching the double meaning, and a mischievous, scandalous thrill ran down her spine.

Downstairs, the sounds of the kids were like background music. Violet toddled after her older brother, tiny legs pumping as she squeaked out broken syllables of “Nicky! Nicky!” in high-pitched excitement. Nicky, backpack flapping behind him like a superhero’s cape, was careening through the kitchen, insisting he was “testing how fast it flies,” the pencil case swinging precariously in his hand.

By the time the two professors reached the kitchen, it looked as though a small tornado had danced through: toast crumbs clung to the countertops, a lone sippy cup teetered on the edge of the table, and Nicky’s sneakers lay haphazardly in the middle of the floor. The smell of coffee mixed with faint hints of spilled milk and crayons—a scent that somehow screamed “first day of school for exhausted mothers.”

Agatha moved with her usual composure, a figure of calm amid chaos. She poured coffee into her thermos with graceful precision, as if the scattered toys and flying pencils were merely background props. Señor Scratchy hopped between the children’s feet, whiskers twitching and ears flopping, trying to keep up with the whirlwind of tiny humans, occasionally earning pats and giggles before being abandoned for the next game.

Rio, by contrast, was a live wire in the center of the storm. She darted from one task to another, checking Nicky’s homework folder, making sure Violet had her back up rabbit plushy safely tucked into her daycare bag since Yellow Dragon was staying home to keep Blue Dragon company, and scooping Cheerios into bowls with rapid-fire efficiency that would have impressed anyone but Agatha, who simply watched.

“You’re buzzing,” Agatha remarked, sipping her coffee with serene elegance, eyes flicking over the chaos.

Rio leaned against the counter, mug in hand, blazer still draped on. “First day of teaching, love. I’m allowed to buzz. New faces, new minds, old chaos—” She gestured broadly at their children, who were now engaged in a mock battle over a pencil, “—it’s a good day.”

Agatha allowed herself a small, indulgent smile. She adored this about Rio, how much she thrived on the beginning of things. The same wild enthusiasm that had once made her the most infuriating student in Agatha’s seminar now made her magnetic to students, colleagues, and anyone lucky enough to be caught in her orbit.

Nicky clattered back into the kitchen, one sock half on, his hair sticking out in five directions. “Mom! Mama! Violet stole my pencil case!”

From the other side of the room came a proud little innocent squeal. “Mine!”

Rio laughed and set her coffee down, already moving to negotiate. Agatha stayed where she was, watching with quiet amusement as Rio crouched to Violet’s level, producing a peace offering—a sheet of glittery stickers. “Trade?” she asked, voice full of cheer and negotiation magic. Violet paused, inspected the stickers carefully, and finally relinquished the pencil case with a victorious squeak, hugging her new treasure to her chest, and all of this without one tear shed.

“Diplomatic genius,” Agatha murmured, and when Rio straightened again, they shared a quick kiss across the kitchen counter. Coffee and toothpaste and the thrill of a new year in the air.

“Teamwork,” Rio said, bumping her wife’s shoulder with hers.

Agatha’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “Teamwork, yes—but don’t think I’m letting you claim credit for the bunny’s cooperation.”

Rio tilted her head, mock-suspicious. “Señor Scratchy? He’s on my side now. I bribed him with a carrot.”

Agatha chuckled, shaking her head. “Bribery. That’s all you ever do. And Scratchy will never be on your side. Never was, never will be. ”

“Yeah, that rabbit hates me,” Rio conceded back with a grin, already grabbing Nicky’s backpack and double-checking it for all the essentials. “But bribery works. Which is why I’m in charge of mornings.”

Agatha shook her head, still smiling, but there was warmth in her gaze that said she didn’t mind at all. Not one bit. « You’re never in charge. You just think you are. »

« Hush you. »

It was a snapshot of a moment: both of them sharp in their teaching clothes, two travel mugs steaming on the counter, their kids swirling around their legs like twin storms. Violet, now satisfied, toddled back to her toy pile with her dragon. Nicky announced he was “absolutely, definitely ready” only to realize he’d forgotten his backpack in the other room again.

Agatha sighed, indulgent but affectionate. “Every year it begins the same way.”

“And every year,” Rio countered, slipping on her shoes and grabbing her bag, “we somehow survive.”

They gathered everything—backpack, daycare bag, keys—and shepherded both children to the door. The air outside was still warm, the early autumn that smelled faintly of leaves.

As they buckled the kids into the car seats, Rio leaned across the roof of the car to catch Agatha’s gaze. “Ready, Dr. Harkness?”

Agatha’s lips curved, her hand smoothing down her skirt as if to armor herself. “Always, Dr. Vidal.”

Rio grinned, sliding into the passenger seat with exaggerated flair. “Then let’s make this year ours.”

The drive to daycare and school was its usual symphony of chatter, a blend of rapid-fire questions, babbling, and occasional exclamations. Violet’s little voice bubbled over the hum of the engine, pointing at passing trees and blurting out names for every cloud shape she could imagine, while Nicky peppered them with approximately a hundred questions about whether third grade counted as “almost high school” and “if recess is shorter, is that considered cruel and unusual punishment?”

Rio answered with her usual rapid-fire enthusiasm, juggling facts, reassurances, and playful banter, while Agatha supplied quieter, measured responses that somehow carried equal weight. Between answers, their eyes met over the dashboard, exchanging small, conspiratorial smiles in between.

By the time they pulled up in front of the daycare first, Rio twisted in her seat to unbuckle the little girl and got out of the car. “Alright, little dragonfly,” she whispered, planting a quick kiss on Violet’s cheek. “Go have fun, don’t eat anything weird, and try not to set the fire alarm off.”

Agatha lifted her out, adjusting her small backpack as Violet waved solemnly at her moms before toddling inside with her teacher who had stepped out to greet them and pick up the little girl. No tears in sight this time —her independence growing in leaps and bounds.

 Agatha slid back into the driver’s seat with the calm of a seasoned navigator, annd Nicky immediately launched into a new story about his classmates, a continuous stream of observation and speculation. Rio responded with the patience of someone used to running a small newsroom inside a family car, laughing and prompting him to elaborate on the details of playground politics, heroic pencil-saving missions, and imagined near-disasters.

Agatha set her hands on the wheel. “Next stop: third grade chaos.”

Nicky immediately launched into a new round of commentary. “Moms! What if my teacher gives us math problems that are actually hard? And if recess is shorter, how will I test the limits of human endurance? Also—”

“Whoa, one at a time,” Rio interrupted, pretending to raise her hands in surrender. “You’re giving me whiplash, kiddo.”

Agatha chuckled, shaking her head. “She’s not wrong. You really are buzzing too this morning.”

Nicky just shrugged and kept on firing more questions. When they reached the school lot, he bounded from the car with his backpack bouncing against his back, pausing just long enough to give each of his moms a wave and the solemn promise to « report back » at dinner with everything important, before sprinting toward the school building. Agatha’s chest swelled with pride and disbelief at how fast he was growing, at how capable and confident he seemed—already carving out his own little place in the world.

Finally, the car was quiet. Just the two of them again. Two professors on their first day back, coffee in hand, the whole year stretching out ahead of them.

Rio reached over and laced her fingers with Agatha’s as they pulled out of the parking lot. “Here we go,” she said softly.

Agatha gave her hand a squeeze, her eyes forward but her smile betraying her own excitement.

“Here we go.”

The university parking lot was already humming with life when Agatha and Rio pulled in, the buzz of firstday energy unmistakable. Students streamed across the walkways in little clusters, some clutching maps of campus, others laughing loudly with friends they hadn’t seen all summer. Faculty cars slid into their familiar spots, the air filled with the smell of coffee and fresh notebooks, the faint sound of someone playing music too loudly from an open window.

Agatha maneuvered their car into a shaded space near the humanities building. Rio, meanwhile, was already bouncing slightly in her seat as if she couldn’t wait to get out and dive into the chaos.

“Bag, bag, bag…” Rio muttered under her breath, leaning down to grab the satchel that had slipped to the passenger-side floor. Her arm stretched, hair tumbling over her shoulder in a sunlit cascade that made Agatha’s pulse skip just a fraction.

And as Rio extended an arm to collect her bag, Agatha saw that around Rio’s wrist, half-hidden under her cuff, looped a pale purple satin ribbon—soft, familiar, unmistakable.

“Is that…” Agatha’s voice carried both incredulity and a thread of amusement. “One of Violet’s ribbons? »

Rio sat up, victorious with her satchel in hand, and looked down at her wrist. The ribbon trailed slightly as she moved. She grinned unapologetically. “Maybe.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching as she tried—and failed—to maintain her professorial composure. “You are a professor of literature, my love. A serious scholar. And you’ve come to work wearing a toddler’s accessory?”

Rio held up her wrist proudly.  “Correction: I’ve come to work wearing our daughter’s treasure. A talisman, actually. To ward off boring lectures, dull students, and the existential dread of grading twenty-five essays in one sitting.” She gave the ribbon a little twirl. “See? Not just fashion. Symbolism.”

Agatha huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she reached for her own bag in the backseat. “You never change.”

“Would you really want me to?” Rio teased, leaning in with a  grin.

Agatha’s eyes softened. “No. Not in a thousand years.”

Before Agatha could start for the door, Rio tugged gently at her sleeve. “Wait, I didn’t show you the best part.” With a flourish, she twisted the ribbon so that a tiny charm dangled from the knot—a small silver dragon, just the right size to catch the eye.

“You… added jewelry?” Agatha blinked, unable to resist leaning closer, taking her wife's wrist in her hands to to inspect it more closely.

“For Nicky,” Rio said, her tone full of pride “He insisted I needed something to match him. So I promised him I’d wear it today—both his magic and Violet’s, all in one.”

Agatha stared at her wife, affection brimming too fast to disguise. “So let me see if I understand this correctly. You’ve come to campus, on the very first day of the new year, prepared to face your students and colleagues… accessorized with one child’s hair ribbon and another child’s dragon charm.”

“Exactly.” Rio tilted her wrist so the charm caught the light, smirking like a tiny mischief-maker. “And you know what? I bet not a single one of them will look half as magical as I do right now.”

Agatha laughed then—properly laughed, low and warm. She reached over, brushing a hand briefly against Rio’s cheek. “You are ridiculous.”

Rio tilted her head, completely unapologetic. “And you adore me.”

“Maybe just a little,” Agatha admitted, shaking her head. “A little enough that I’d defend you in front of the entire faculty if someone dared to mock your… ensemble.”

“See?” Rio’s grin widened. “Practicality and fashion advice and unwavering support. I knew you were the perfect partner.”

Agatha feigned exasperation. “I suppose this also means you expect me to carry your bag, straighten your blazer, and nod approvingly at your charm all day?”

“Absolutely,” Rio replied, giving Agatha a playful shove toward the door. “And maybe whisper a warning if a student dares to challenge my magical aura.”

Agatha shook her head, laughing again as she finally stepped out of the car. Rio bounded ahead, ribbon fluttering at her wrist like it belonged there, charm spinning in the morning sunlight.

By the time Agatha caught up, locking the car behind them, students were already passing by. Some spotted Agatha and instantly straightened, as if bracing for the legendary professor herself. Others glanced at Rio curiously, drawn to her infectious energy.

Agatha fell into step beside her “Don’t you dare show that off to the dean,” she muttered under her breath.

“Oh, I will,” Rio said with a flourish. “Especially the dragon charm. I’ll explain exactly where it comes from. The heroic origins, the magical properties… he’ll love it.”

“Rio.”

“What? It’ll earn me points for being whimsical. Students adore whimsy.”

“Students need stability,” Agatha countered, one brow still raised, trying to keep the lecture tone even though her lips twitched.

“Why not both?” Rio beamed, sliding her hand into Agatha’s for a quick squeeze before letting go again, mindful of prying eyes.

Agatha allowed herself a small smile, tugging at Rio’s sleeve. “Very well. But if you see me trying to hide my face behind my coffee this morning, remember… I warned you.”

Rio leaned back, laughter spilling softly. “Fair enough. But if anyone asks, you’re just admiring my bracelet.”

Agatha’s eyes softened, her hand brushing briefly over Rio’s. “Admiring more than the bracelet, love. Much more.”

Rio’s grin deepened, just a fraction mischievous, just a fraction tender. “Good. Let’s see how much magic a little purple ribbon can bring to today.”

As they approached the faculty building, Agatha stole one last glance at her wife’s wrist. The ribbon trailed just above Rio’s pulse point, delicate and silly, yet in its own way profound. A marker of the life they’d built together—children, chaos, love. A remainder that beneath all the titles and roles, they were a family first.

Agatha thought she might tease again, but instead she simply said, quietly enough for only Rio to hear, “Keep them close today. Both of them.”

Rio’s answering smile was softer than any laugh. “Always.”

By the time they reached the carved oak doors of the faculty lounge, the sound of conversation drifted out. The room was already filling with professors clutching mugs of coffee, leaning against tables, trading stories from their summers.

The moment Agatha and Rio stepped in, a familiar voice called out, “Well, look who’s back!”

Luke, their fellow professor, raised his mug in greeting. His tie was crooked as usual, his hair a little more salt than pepper since last semester. “I half-expected the two of you wouldn’t survive the summer with two kids.”

Rio’s laugh rang out like a bell, bright enough to turn heads. “Survive? We thrived! I’m practically a professional fort builder now, and Agatha—” she gestured grandly toward her wife, who was already slipping toward the coffee pot—“Agatha has mastered the art of keeping paint out of hair. Mostly.”

A ripple of laughter went around the lounge. Agatha rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her amusement. “You exaggerate, Rio, as always.”

“Do I?” Rio sidled closer, lowering her voice theatrically. “Did you or did you not spend twenty minutes last week blow-drying finger paint out of Violet’s pigtail?”

Luke nearly choked on his coffee. Juliet, another professor and one of their closest friends, let out a delighted chuckle from her seat by the window. “Oh, bless you both,” she said. “And yet, look at you. You two seem… refreshed. That’s not fair. I spent all summer reviewing thesis drafts and look like a ghost. What’s your secret?”

“Coffee,” Agatha said dryly, pouring herself a cup.

“Agatha,” Rio said at the exact same time, her grin wide and infectious.

That earned another round of laughter. Even the quieter professors like Dr. Lewis or Dr. Wilson, were smiling as they shook their heads.

Agatha carried her mug over to a chair, sitting with her typical effortlessness. Rio, however, refused to sit still. She moved through the room like she belonged to everyone, greeting each colleague in turn, complimenting a new haircut here, asking about a family trip there. The ribbon at her wrist fluttered as she gestured animatedly, and more than one professor’s gaze flicked to it curiously.

“Honestly, how do you have this much energy at eight in the morning?” Juliet asked, shaking her head with a fond smile.

Rio clasped her hands dramatically. “It’s a gift. Or a curse, depending who you ask.” She cast Agatha a playful look, and the older woman arched one elegant brow.

“A curse,” Agatha confirmed, though her tone was affectionate enough to make the room laugh again.

At that moment, the door opened, and a younger woman stepped inside. She had the fresh, alert look of someone who hadn’t yet weathered the full brunt of academia—shoulders straight, eyes bright, not yet dulled by committee meetings and departmental politics.

“Oh, you must be Dr. Herdman,” Juliet said warmly, rising to greet her. “Our new hire in sociology, right? Welcome.”

Dr. Herdman smiled, nodding, then glanced around the room—only to pause slightly as her gaze landed on Agatha and Rio.

It was easy to see why she hesitated. The two of them were, in their way, magnetic. Agatha sat poised with her cup of coffee, every line of her body calm and commanding, as though she’d been born for this room. Rio, meanwhile, was halfway through a story that had two professors chuckling into their sleeves, her hands moving as fast as her words, her whole face lit as she leaned against the back of her wife’s chair. And yet, in the quiet moments between words, her eyes flicked toward Agatha as if tethered, drawing energy from her presence.

Dr. Herdman blinked, as though trying to reconcile them: one serene, the other kinetic; one polished, the other colorful—and yet somehow, impossibly, perfectly in sync.

“They’re like this all the time,” Luke said in an undertone, noticing the new professor’s expression. “Don’t worry, you get used to it.”

Rio spun around at just that moment, spotting Dr. Herdman. “Oh! Hello!” she said, crossing the room in three quick steps. “You must be new! Welcome, welcome. What's up? I’m Rio—literature, chaotic corner—and that’s Agatha—also literature, regal corner.” She gestured to Agatha. “Between us, we’ve got about half the lit majors covered.”

Agatha inclined her head politely. “A pleasure,” she said, her voice smooth, steady.

Dr. Herdman laughed a little nervously, still wide-eyed. “It’s… very nice to meet you both. You seem… very…”

“Very what?” Rio pressed, leaning in with a mischievous smile.

“…in sync,” Dr. Herdman finished, though her cheeks warmed as if she’d revealed too much.

Rio beamed, delighted. “Oh, we’ll take that. In sync is exactly what we’re going for.”

Agatha shook her head faintly, sipping her coffee to hide the curve of her lips.

The room hummed with laughter again, Rio at its center, Agatha its steady anchor. And somewhere in the corner, the new professor thought to herself that she’d never seen colleagues like this before—two people who seemed to balance chaos and order so naturally it was hard to imagine one without the other.

The auditorium was buzzing. A pattern that morning, it seemed. The seats filled quickly, rows of students leaning toward each other, voices overlaping in a hum of anticipation. Fourth-years had a distinctive aura—part excitement, part disbelief, part dread that the end was looming closer than any of them wanted to admit. Programs rustled, backpacks thudded to the floor, and the stage was lined with faculty standing neatly along the side.

Agatha looked every inch the polished professor. Her hands were folded in front of her, posture upright, expression attentive. Rio, beside her, was less still. She shifted from foot to foot, glanced at the crowd, gave a little wave when she spotted a familiar student, and leaned ever-so-slightly into Agatha’s shoulder.

Dean Montgomery, a dignified man with a voice like brass, stepped to the podium. The microphone crackled briefly before his opening words rolled out across the auditorium.

“Welcome back, fourth years,” he began, smiling warmly over the sea of students. “This is the start of your final year at our university, a milestone in your lives. Some of you will soon move on to graduate study, others to careers, others still may not yet know where you’re heading. And that’s alright. This year is about growth, challenge, and, ultimately, the discovery of what comes next.”

Rio leaned toward Agatha, her voice pitched low so only her wife could hear. “Every year he does the same thing. He always says ‘a milestone in your lives.’ If he says ‘the journey is the destination,’ I’m buying you lunch.”

Agatha’s lips twitched, her carefully neutral mask slipping just enough for the tiniest smile to betray her. “Behave,” she murmured, eyes still on the Dean.

Rio smirked.

In the crowd, a sudden wave of arms caught their attention. Their little cluster of students—Sophia, sitting ramrod straight and serious as ever; Emma, already talking animatedly to Nina, who was laughing loud enough to earn a few looks; Josh leaning back casually, flashing them a grin; Max and Liam already elbowing each other in their seats—had spotted them.

Sophia gave a brisk, dignified wave that seemed meant only for Agatha, while Emma, spotting Rio, waved both arms in the air until Nina yanked one of them down with an embarrassed laugh. Josh cupped his hands around his mouth, though thankfully didn’t shout, while Max and Liam simply pantomimed exaggerated bows toward the faculty line.

Rio couldn’t help it—she grinned so wide it reached her eyes and wiggled her fingers back at them, earning a groan from Agatha under her breath.

“They’re going to think I’ve lost control of you,” Agatha said softly.

“You never had control,” Rio whispered back without looking at her.

That time, Agatha had to cough discreetly to cover the laugh threatening to escape.

Dean Montgomery continued, his words flowing smoothly, painting pictures of bright futures and the importance of responsibility. “This is a year of opportunities,” he said firmly, “and I encourage you all to seize them fully. Your professors are here to guide you, but the real work, the real effort—that belongs to you.”

Rio leaned in again, “And the real caffeine dependency also belongs to you.”

Agatha’s elbow brushed against Rio’s ribs—a gentle warning, but her eyes sparkled.

Their students, meanwhile, were trying to catch their attention in increasingly obvious ways. Emma had scribbled something unreadable on her notebook and held it up like a sign until Sophia snatched it down, muttering what was undoubtedly a lecture about professionalism. Liam pretended to faint dramatically in his seat, while Max caught the act and mimed fanning him back to life.

Rio pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. “They’re going to make me lose it,” she whispered.

“You already have,” Agatha replied smoothly, but her gaze flicked once more toward their cluster of chaos with unmistakable fondness.

As the Dean spoke on about seizing the year and cherishing friendships, Agatha reached down just briefly, brushing her hand against Rio’s. It was subtle, invisible to anyone but Rio, but enough to ground her restless energy.

And when the students caught that tiny, fleeting touch, Nina elbowed Emma with a smug grin, whispering something that made Emma’s eyes widen before she smacked Nina’s arm. The two devolved into giggles that even Sophia couldn’t entirely stifle with her stern looks.

By the time Dean Montgomery concluded with his signature line—“Make this year not only a milestone, but a memory”—Rio leaned over once more, whispering, “He dodged it. No ‘journey is the destination.’ I guess you owe me lunch.”

Agatha finally allowed herself the faintest, indulgent smile.

The polite applause for Dean Montgomery’s conclusion faded into the expectant shuffle of hundreds of students settling back in their seats. The lineup of professors shifted as the next segment began: each head of department was set to step up, offer a few words, and remind the fourth years just how much was riding on this final stretch of their education.

On stage, Agatha folded her arms loosely, expression as poised as ever. Rio, beside her, had her hands clasped behind her back but was already scanning the audience with a too-bright grin, trying not to make eye contact with their own little cluster of chaos.

Predictably, it was Max and Liam who drew her eye again first. The moment the Dean left the podium, the boys leaned into each other, whispering furiously and stifling laughter. Max gave Liam a subtle nudge with his elbow, which turned into Liam shoving back harder. The shove nearly knocked Max into the student beside him, who swore under his breath, while both of them tried—and failed—to keep straight faces.

Agatha noticed almost instantly. Her eyes sharpened, the weight of her professor stare slicing across the auditorium like a laser. She didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t need to.

Max and Liam froze like deer in headlights. Liam swallowed audibly and immediately sat up straighter, hands folded too neatly in his lap. Max, caught mid-smirk, hastily tugged a notebook from his bag and pretended to study it, though upside down. Rio nearly choked on a laugh at the performance, hiding her grin behind her hand.

Sophia, three seats down, was already furiously scribbling notes in her tidy handwriting. She had been from the very first word the Dean spoke, as though everything said today would be on a test tomorrow. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and her lips moved silently, repeating certain phrases as though committing them to memory. She sat so stiffly upright her shoulders looked painful, but there was no mistaking her focus.

“Poor girl’s going to burn out before October,” Rio muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Agatha to hear.

“She’ll be fine,” Agatha replied softly, though the slight crease between her brows betrayed her concern.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the row, Josh and Nina were an entirely different picture. He leaned in close, whispering something in her ear, and Nina’s smile bloomed so wide it lit up her whole face. A second later, she muffled a laugh against her hand, but not enough to disguise the way her shoulders shook. Josh leaned back with an easy grin, eyes never leaving her.

Rio tilted her head in their direction, whispering, “Bet you ten bucks he proposes in less than five years.”

Agatha arched a brow. “Bet you twenty it will take less than three.”

They both smirked.

Emma, sitting just behind Sophia, was the very definition of restless energy. She whispered something to the student next to her—something too long, clearly commentary about the speeches. Halfway through, her face flushed scarlet as if realizing what she’d just said, and she slapped her hand over her own mouth, wide-eyed. The other student chuckled politely, but Emma just shrank into her seat for a moment before inevitably repeating the cycle again a few minutes later.

On stage, the Head of the Science Department was speaking about research opportunities, field placements, and the importance of collaboration. Rio leaned slightly forward, hands behind her back, nodding in exaggerated encouragement like she was silently performing for their group of students.

And then Josh leaned closer to Nina again, whispering something that was clearly a joke meant only for her ears. Nina burst out laughing, sudden and bright, her voice carrying across the quiet auditorium. Several heads turned. The speaker paused just for a moment, then continued.

But Agatha did not let it slide this time.

From her place on stage, she leveled that same sharp, surgical glare straight at the pair of them. The kind of look that needed no words to translate: Behave.

Nina’s laughter cut off immediately, her hand flying to her mouth. Josh blinked, visibly startled, before straightening in his seat with all the casual guilt of a kid caught doodling in the margins. They both stared forward, hands folded, faces schooled into innocence.

Rio’s lips pressed together, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. She leaned just slightly toward Agatha and whispered, “You’ve got the scariest teacher stare I’ve ever seen.”

Agatha didn’t take her eyes off the crowd, but the corner of her mouth curved ever so slightly. “And you wonder why they listen to me more than you. And that stare never worked on you, so clearly it doesn’t work. »

Rio nudged her with her elbow, grin threatening to spill over. “Please. They love me. And that stare always work on me, especially in… other contexts.”

Agatha didn’t dignify that last part with a response. “They fear me.”

“Best of both worlds,” Rio quipped.

*

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Chapter Text

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The speeches rolled on, one after another, with the steady rhythm of academic formality. Each head of department took their turn, echoing variations of the same themes: academic rigor, future opportunities, professionalism, the importance of representing the university with pride.

Rio lasted through the first two speeches with her posture immaculate and her expression carefully neutral. By the third, however, her hand had quietly slipped into her bag to retrieve the slim leather notebook she always carried. She flipped it open on her lap with the air of someone deeply invested in recording important ideas—until her pen started moving.

Agatha leaned the slightest degree closer, her sharp eyes flickering down to Rio’s notebook. Instead of tidy notes or keywords, the page held a little cartoon version of Agatha herself: impossibly tall, with a long witchy coat trailing behind her and a tiny lightning bolt for a glare. The whole thing was labeled “The Stare of Doom.”

Rio kept her chin lifted like she was listening attentively, but her lips twitched as she added details—a coffee cup in the one hand, her hair drawn in exaggeradly long waves. When the Head of Humanities’ voice droned, “…these are the habits that will carry you into your careers…” Rio sketched a row of tiny students cowering beneath cartoon-Agatha’s gaze.

Agatha tilted her head toward her, one brow arching in silent disbelief.

Rio, caught but not contrite, raised her pen as if to salute her wife’s silent scolding.

Agatha’s lips barely moved as she mouthed: “Seriously? You’re worse than the students. I don’t even look like that.”

Rio grinned so wide she nearly lost her composure. She quickly bent her head again, scribbling a speech bubble over the cartoon Agatha that read “Focus, Rio.”

The fourth speech began—this time the Head of Mathematics. His tone was booming, lofty, his hands slice the air as he said, “And now, we must look forward—to the future of research!” His arm swept dramatically across the auditorium, gesturing to the sea of fourth years like they were soldiers preparing to march into glory.

There was a beat of polite silence.

Then Rio, without hesitation, raised her hands and clapped twice. Not loudly—just enough to make it obvious. She beamed at their cluster of students, as though this moment was for them alone.

A couple of students—Liam especially—snickered into their sleeves.

Agatha’s elbow nudged firmly against Rio’s arm. Not rough, but unmistakable.

Rio turned her head with a picture of innocence, lowering her hands back to her lap. “What? I was supporting their future,” she whispered.

Agatha gave her a long-suffering look, lips pressed together. Then, betraying herself, the faintest curve touched her mouth.

After nearly an hour of speeches, polite applause, and the slow rustle of shifting students in their seats, it finally seemed like the end was near. Dean Montgomery stepped back up to the podium, his suit impeccable, his tie knotted with mathematical precision.

“And now,” the dean intoned, “to conclude our welcome ceremony, Dr. Harkness and Dr. Vidal will share a few words about the ongoing poetry initiative.”

There was a murmur through the crowd—half curiosity, half the weary hope that this would be short.

On the stage, Rio leaned slightly toward Agatha as they rose from their seats. “We sound like we’re hosting the Oscars,” she whispered under her breath, grinning like a conspirator.

Agatha didn’t even break stride, though the corner of her mouth twitched. “Don’t you dare sing,” she warned smoothly, her voice meant only for Rio’s ears.

Rio widened her eyes, wounded. “Not even a ballad?”

Agatha’s hand brushed against hers briefly as they walked, the tiniest squeeze that said, for the millionth time: for the love of God, behave.

They stepped up to the podium together, but it was Agatha who took the microphone first. Her presence shifted the energy in the room immediately; where Dean Montgomery’s polish had been stiff, hers carried a calm authority that stilled even the restless fourth years in the back.

“Good morning,” Agatha began, her voice carrying effortlessly through the auditorium. “As many of you know, last year we launched a pilot poetry initiative. It was, to our great delight, a resounding success. We witnessed students across disciplines—scientists, historians, musicians, and yes, lots of literature majors—share their voices with honesty and courage. We want to thank our anonymous donors again for making this project possible.”

Her eyes softened briefly, just enough that Rio knew the words landed with more personal weight now that Agatha understood the truth of who those “anonymous donors” had been. She carried on.

“This year, the initiative continues. I want to remind you all—it is not only for literature students. It is for anyone with words inside them. You don’t need to be published or polished. You don’t need the ‘right’ kind of voice. What matters is the willingness to share, and the openness to listen. Yes, queer voices and words are the heart of this program, but we want to emphasize that allies are welcome alike. Everybody with something to say.”

There was a small hush in the room, like students were actually hearing her, not just waiting for the next thing. Agatha let it linger for a beat, then handed the microphone to Rio with the smallest tilt of her head.

Rio took it with her usual flourish, immediately grinning at the audience like she was about to let them in on a secret. “Translation,” she said, her voice carrying a playful rhythm that made students lean forward, “if you’ve ever scribbled angsty poetry on a napkin at two in the morning, this is your time to shine.”

Laughter rippled through the rows.

Rio gestured grandly toward the cluster of their familiar fourth years in the middle section. “And that includes all of you. Don’t think I don’t know some of you are dramatic enough for this already.”

Emma sat bolt upright, her eyes lighting up with barely contained excitement. Max groaned theatrically, while Liam nudged him in the ribs. Josh ducked his head, whispering something into Nina’s ear that made her snort.

Rio’s grin only widened at their reactions. “See? Confirmed. The dramatics are alive and well in this year’s cohort.” She leaned into the mic as though sharing confidential advice. “So go ahead—sign up. Break our hearts. Make us cry in the best way possible.”

Her hand went up in a sweeping motion, as though she were conducting an orchestra. “Because poetry is rebellion. And we want all your voices in this. Every kind, every shade, every story.”

There was a genuine energy building in the room now—not just polite attentiveness, but actual spark. Students exchanged glances, some already whispering to each other, others smiling with the thought of it.

Rio lowered the mic slightly, her voice softening, though the playfulness never left her. “We don’t need perfection. We just need you. So take a risk. Surprise yourself. And surprise us.”

The difference in atmosphere was unmistakable. Where the dean’s carefully practiced cadence had washed over the students like polite rain—dampening but hardly soaking—Agatha’s measured warmth and Rio’s firecracker humor had pulled something alive out of the room. The buzz was audible even before Rio finished speaking, little currents of laughter and whispers darting between rows like sparks.

Josh leaned toward Nina, grinning like a cat who’d gotten away with something. “I’m writing an ode to pizza again,” he whispered.

Nina swatted him lightly on the arm, her hair falling forward as she rolled her eyes. “That is not the point of the initiative, Joshua. It’s supposed to be about expression, rebellion, heartbreak—”

“—And pizza is all of those things,” Josh countered, lips twitching. “Have you tasted cafeteria pizza on a Monday?”

Meanwhile, Max and Liam had their own brainstorm going on, the kind that never ended well. “So,” Max muttered, leaning sideways toward Liam, “do you think group performances are allowed?”

“Obviously,” Liam said, barely containing his grin. “Poetry duo. We’d kill it.”

Their voices carried just enough that the students in the rows ahead turned to look at them. Unfortunately for them, they weren’t the only ones who noticed. From across the room, Agatha’s gaze snapped to them, sharp and precise. One arched brow lifted in a silent, devastating affirmation: please don’t.

Liam wilted first under the weight of the stare, nudging Max to shut up. Max bit back a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck like he was suddenly very invested in the auditorium ceiling.

“Thank you, all of you,” Agatha said, letting her gaze sweep the room with practiced ease. “We look forward to hearing your words, your truths, and your courage through this initiative. Remember—this belongs to you, not just to us. Make it your own.”

Rio leaned in to add her finishing flourish, her grin bright enough to pull another ripple of energy from the crowd. “Sign-up sheets will be outside our offices by tomorrow morning,” she announced, lifting her arm in a half-dramatic gesture, like she was conducting. “Don’t be shy. The world needs your words.”

She winked toward the crowd before handing the microphone back to Dean Montgomery, who looked both faintly amused and faintly relieved at the injection of liveliness.

“Thank you, Dr. Harkness. Thank you, Dr. Vidal,” he said, with the air of a man trying to shepherd things back to decorum. “That concludes our welcome ceremony. Classes will begin this afternoon as scheduled.”

The applause this time was warmer, louder—not the dutiful one that had followed the earlier speeches, but something more genuine. The students clapped, a few even cheered, and Rio gave an exaggerated little bow before Agatha gently tugged her back into line with the other faculty.

As they stepped away from the stage, Rio leaned in close to Agatha again. “See? Not Oscars. More like a rock concert.”

Agatha arched one elegant brow. “And you imagine yourself the headliner?”

“Obviously the drummer,” Rio corrected, flashing her teeth in a grin. “You’re the mysterious fan favorite, though.”

Agatha shook her head with the faintest sigh.

Behind them, their chaotic bunch of fourth years were already buzzing with chatter—Emma practically bouncing in her seat, Max muttering about how he refused to ever write poetry if it wasn’t a group thing, Nina trying to coax Josh into admitting he’d probably write something sweet for her.

The year had officially begun. And thanks to Agatha and Rio, it already felt alive.

As the last round of applause faded and the crowd began to spill out into the corridor, the atmosphere in the auditorium shifted instantly from formal to chaotic. The moment the dean and senior faculty disappeared behind the stage doors, Agatha and Rio found themselves surrounded.

Their little pack of little dragons descended like they had been holding in commentary for the past two hours. Voices overlapped—questions, groans, jokes—all directed at the two professors who had somehow become both their mentors and their unofficial parents.

Sophia was the first to cut through the noise, clutching her planner to her chest like a lifeline. “Dr. Harkness—Dr. Vidal—please tell me honestly,” she said, her eyes wide. “Is the final thesis going to make or break my career? Because if it is, I should probably start rewriting my outline again tonight. And maybe tomorrow morning. And—”

Rio leaned down a little, placing a hand in the girl’s shoulder. “Sophia,” she intoned, “if your thesis breaks your career, then mine would have destroyed the entire literary canon. You’re safe.”

Sophia blinked, uncertain whether or not to believe her, but before she could answer, Josh nearly toppled into them, throwing his arms in the air. “Grad school!” he exclaimed, like he’d just remembered it was real. “Do you think they’re already reading our emails? Like, they’ve got spies or something? Should I email every department now? Or would that be bullying? Maybe they like being bullied. Maybe it shows confidence.”

“Maybe it shows you’re insane,” Nina cut in dryly, chewing at her thumbnail but somehow radiating composure anyway. She crossed her arms, eyeing him sidelong. “I’m going to be fine, but Josh is doomed.”

Josh whirled around, affronted. “HEY!”

Emma, jittery as always, was whispering commentary at a mile a minute to whoever would listen. “I mean, I thought the dean was going to keep talking until graduation, didn’t you? And then when he said ‘rigor,’ I thought about rigor mortis, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about corpses, and then—oh, sorry, too much, never mind.” Her face went bright red, and she clamped her mouth shut.

Meanwhile, Max was muttering to himself like he was giving a pep talk in the mirror. “I’m going to ace senior year, I’m going to ace senior year, I’m—” His voice cut off with a sharp snap as the pen in his hand cracked cleanly in two. Ink spattered across his notes and the cuff of his shirt. “…Okay, that wasn’t ominous at all.”

Liam immediately burst out laughing, doubling over and slapping Max on the back. “Brilliant start, mate. Acing it already.”

Rio’s eyes went wide as she glanced between them all—the anxiety, the chaos, the broken pen, the pizza ode already being drafted on the corner of Josh’s notebook—and she threw her arms up like a conductor trying to rein in a very uncooperative orchestra.

“Alright, kittens!” she declared, loud enough that a few other students glanced their way. “One at a time. Sophia, your career will be fine. Josh, please don’t harass grad schools, they’re fragile creatures. Nina, your confidence is terrifying, and I love it. Max, I mourn your pen, may it rest in peace. Liam, stop laughing or I’ll assign you double essays. And Emma, rigor mortis is a fine thing to think about. I think about it at least once a week.”

That at least got them to pause, long enough for Agatha to step in with a calm, steady tone that seemed to cut through the frenzy without effort.

“You’re all at the beginning of your final year,” she said, folding her arms and looking at them each in turn. “It will not be easy. You’ll have to juggle your coursework, your thesis, your applications. Some days it will feel like too much. But you are prepared for this. And when you aren’t, you have us. Use us. Ask for guidance. Trust yourselves.”

Sophia visibly relaxed, scribbling Ask for guidance in her planner like it was gospel.

Josh, still flustered, muttered, “So, no bullying, then?”

Agatha’s stare could have turned him to stone. “No bullying.”

Rio slung an arm around Josh’s shoulders, her grin deliberately over-bright. “What she means is: relax. You’ve got us. You’ll be brilliant. And if you’re not brilliant, you’ll at least be funny, which is nearly as valuable.”

That finally cracked the tension. Even Sophia snorted before she caught herself. Nina rolled her eyes but was clearly amused, and Emma started giggling nervously again.

Max, still wiping ink off his sleeve, said, “Okay, but—group poetry performances. That’s still on the table, right?”

“Don’t you dare,” Agatha said smoothly, without even blinking, while Rio mouthed behind her, “Please do.”

“Worth a shot,” Liam muttered, grinning.

Max leaned forward, a grin on his face. “So… are you ready to cry when we all graduate at the end of the year?”

Agatha stared him down. “Oh, we’ll cry all right.” Then, deadpan, “Of joy.”

Max gasped. “Dr. Harkness, you wound me. At least your wife will cry real tears.”

Rio smirked. “I’m already crying. The tears are just stuck inside. Please get them out. And what I mean by that is, ‘please graduate, I can’t take it anymore.’”

That made the students laugh all at once.

The group clustered closer again, buzzing with nervous energy, their worries spilling out in bursts—What if they weren’t ready? What if they failed? What if grad schools didn’t want them? What if they didn’t even know what they wanted for themselves?

And through it all, Agatha and Rio stood at the center of it like twin poles of balance: Agatha grounding them with reason, Rio lifting them with levity. Together, they held the chaos steady.

The students finally began to peel away, their overlapping chatter trailing into the hall as they scattered toward their first classes. One by one, the voices faded—Sophia already fussing over her planner again, Emma nervously retelling something too quickly, Josh still defending his “pizza ode” as Nina swatted at him, Max and Liam still laughing about the broken pen. The pack disappeared in a blur of motion, their energy spilling into the corridors like a storm leaving the room.

Silence settled over the auditorium for the first time in hours.

“Fourth years,” Rio said softly, like she still couldn’t quite believe it. Her eyes flicked to the door where their students had disappeared. “Can you believe it? We’re really going to send them out into the world.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a wry little smile, part pride, part mischief. “Let’s hope the world is ready for them,” she murmured.

Before Rio could laugh, Luke passed by on his way out, chuckling as he slowed near them. “Your fan club is back,” he teased, jerking his chin toward the hallway where their students had run off so eagerly to swarm them earlier.

Agatha replied immeditaly, “Tragic, really.”

Luke barked a laugh and disappeared through the double doors.

But the moment they were alone again, Agatha allowed the tiniest glimmer of pride to reach her eyes. Rio caught it instantly.

She crossed her arms, still grinning ear to ear, and nodded toward the hall. The chaos had already spilled away, but her voice softened as if she were speaking to something still visible. “Look at them,” she whispered, almost to herself. “Our chaos legacy.”

Agatha tilted her head, studying her wife with a kind of fond exasperation. “Legacy, is it?”

“Of course,” Rio said with mock gravity, though her eyes were warm. “It’s genetic now. We’ve passed it on to them. May the academic world never recover.”

Agatha sighed, long-suffering in that way she knew Rio loved, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s going to be a very long year.”

Rio only beamed brighter, stepping closer until their shoulders brushed. “And the best one yet.”

“You say that every year.”

Rio laughed, the sound bouncing cheerfully around the empty room. She straightened and nudged Agatha toward the doors. “Come on, partner. Let’s go face the first years. We need new fan club members for when this bunch leaves for good. »

Agatha arched a brow as she allowed herself to be guided along. “If you start signing autographs, I’m leaving you to your fate.”

Rio winked. “Noted. But you have to promise not to break any more students with that death stare of yours. We can’t afford to lose recruits.”

The two of them slipped out of the auditorium side by side, weaving through the thinning stream of faculty and students until they reached the quieter halls of the humanities wing. The hum of chatter dulled behind them, replaced by the familiar creak of old floorboards and the faint smell of chalk dust that always clung to this part of campus.

As they reached Agatha’s office, Rio tilted her head with mock seriousness. “You know, I do have my own perfectly functional office.”

Agatha slid her key into the lock, voice dry as ever. “Yes, and yet mine is mysteriously always more appealing.”

“Appealing?” Rio gasped dramatically as the door swung open. “You mean magnetic. Like gravity. You’re my office gravity.”

Agatha shook her head, ushering her inside. “If anyone heard you say that, they’d revoke your doctorate.”

Rio grinned and brushed past her, already making herself at home.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Agatha immediately let out a long exhale, leaning back against it for a moment. Then, with a small groan of relief, she slipped off her heels and flexed her toes against the carpet—her ritual whenever no one else was watching.

Rio dropped into the chair opposite Agatha’s desk with all the grace of a stage dive. “One speech down,” she declared, throwing her arms wide, “fifty million to go this semester.”

Agatha moved to the corner cabinet, pulling out the coffee pot she always kept stashed away. Without a word, she poured two cups, setting one in front of Rio.

Rio eyed it like it might bite her. “Still drinking that motor oil you call coffee?”

Agatha arched a brow, sinking into her chair with the other cup in hand. “And still too proud to admit you like it.”

Rio made an exaggerated face, but she picked up the cup anyway, blowing across the surface before taking the tiniest sip. Predictably, she winced. “Ugh. Battery acid.”

“Caffeine,” Agatha corrected, smirking over the rim of her own mug.

Rio leaned forward across the desk, chin propped on one hand as she studied her wife. Her grin softened into something mischievous. “The students should get hazard pay for having professors this hot.”

Agatha’s laugh slipped out before she could stop it. She shook her head, but when Rio’s hand crept across the desk, she didn’t hesitate to reach out, their fingers tangling together. She gave Rio’s hand a quiet squeeze.

For a moment, the buzzing world outside the office faded. The coffee steamed between them, their joined hands rested easily on the desk, and the chaos of speeches and students and the semester ahead seemed a little lesss daunting.

Agatha gave her wife that steady look  that could both scold and soothe at once. “If this is how you plan to get through the year, by turning every quiet moment into theater—”

Rio interrupted with a cheeky grin, “—Then you’re the luckiest professor on campus.”

Agatha sighed. “Hopeless,” she murmured.

Rio only smiled wider, basking in the word as though it were a compliment.

Agatha leaned back in her chair for a moment, letting the comfortable quiet of her office settle around them. Rio was still twirling her coffee cup, tapping her fingers lightly against the ceramic, her restless energy buzzing even in stillness. Agatha reached down to her bag at the side of her desk, rifling through papers and folders until her fingers closed around something smooth. When she straightened again, she was holding a small photo frame.

It was a picture she’d printed just a week ago: Nicky grinning with one front tooth missing, his arm looped around Violet—who was seated proudly on a picnic blanket, holding up a toy block like it was some sort of trophy. Violet’s cheeks were round with babyhood, her dark curls wild and untamable. Agatha set the frame carefully on her desk, adjusting it so it faced her side of the desk, catching the light just right.

Rio’s expression softened. “I was wondering when you’d finally bring them in,” she said gently.

Agatha brushed an invisible speck of dust from the corner of the frame, her lips curling in a fond smile she couldn’t quite suppress. “It feels strange, doesn’t it? Coming back here, after everything, and realizing nothing has really changed.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rio teased, but her voice was quieter now, more tender. She leaned forward, her elbows on the desk, eyes on the photo. “But you’re right. It’s different this year. Violet’s settled at daycare—no more calls every other hour from my Mom to tell us she’s inconsolable—and Nicky’s suddenly a big kid, new grade, new confidence.”

Agatha hummed in agreement, her gaze still fixed on the smiling faces in the photo. “I didn’t think I’d look forward to this year as much as I do,” she admitted softly, the words slipping out like something she hadn’t intended to voice aloud. Then, after a beat, she added, almost shyly, “But with you here…”

She didn’t finish. The unfinished sentence lingered in the air, carried instead by the warmth of her smile.

They sat like that for a few heartbeats, letting the stillness of the office cocoon them, the noise of the world dulled by the simple easiniess of being side by side.

Of course, the peace didn’t last.

From the hallway outside, muffled laughter erupted, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone dropping a pile of books and another voice exclaiming far too loudly, “I told you not to run!” The crash was followed by a chorus of snickers and footsteps scrambling in every direction.

Rio closed her eyes, tilting her head back with a long, dramatic sigh. “So much for our peaceful year.”

Agatha smirked, taking a calm sip of her coffee. “You’d miss the chaos if it weren’t there.”

Rio cracked one eye open, gave her wife an incredulous look, and then pointed at herself with both hands. “Babe, I am the chaos.”

Agatha’s laugh slipped  out before she could stop it. “That,” she said, shaking her head, “is the most accurate thing you’ve ever said in your life.”

Rio beamed, clearly taking it as a badge of honor. “Exactly. Which means if I’m the chaos, and you married me…” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Agatha stood, collecting the papers she’d need for her first seminar and sliding them neatly into a folder. “Then I’ve only have myself to blame.”

Rio stood as well, dramatically sweeping her arm like she was reading a banner up in the air. “Tragic love story: elegant professor falls for beautiful chaos incarnate.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but there was no real exasperation there—only fondness. She crossed to her wife, pressing the folder into Rio’s hands. “Come on, Dr. Mrs. Rio Chaos Harkness-Vidal. First classes wait for no one.”

Rio grinned at the sound of the name and tucked the folder under her arm like it was a prop in her play. “Side by side, Professor.”

They opened the office door and the hallway was still buzzing with the energy of the first week—students darting between classrooms, clutching syllabi, laughing too loud, speaking over one another in their rush. The chaos wrapped around them like a familiar storm.

Agatha and Rio exchanged one last quick glance, a small smile passing between them, and then stepped out—ready to face the year, the noise, the challenges, and everything in between.

Side by side.

*

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Chapter Text

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Sunday mornings in the Harkness-Vidal household were never quiet. They began with the clatter of cereal bowls, the hum of the coffeemaker, and the constant patter of small feet across the hardwood floor. This particular Sunday was no different—everyone was buzzing with excitement about visiting Grandma Lilia’s house for the day.

Nicky, already dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with dinosaurs marching across the front, had taken it upon himself to be “chief packer.” At eight and three quarters years old, he was a master of lists—mental ones, anyway—and declared with all the seriousness of a general preparing for battle that he would pack both his own bag and Violet’s.

“Mom, Mama,” he announced, dragging his backpack out from under the table, “I’ve got this. Don’t worry. I’m bringing all the important things.”

Rio, who was standing by the counter sipping her coffee, raised an amused brow. “Important things like what, Nicky? Socks? Snacks? Blue Dragon?”

“Yes,” Nicky replied, already unzipping his bag with a flourish, “and also three comic books, my soccer ball, my Lego spaceship, and the flashlight. Because what if there’s a blackout at Grandma’s?”

Agatha, leaning gracefully against the counter with her own cup of coffee, gave her son a knowing smile. “Has Grandma Lilia ever had a blackout?”

“…No,” Nicky admitted after a pause, “but it could happen.”

Rio smothered a laugh behind her mug while Agatha merely inclined her head. “Practical thinking, darling. Just remember you do have to carry the bag yourself.”

Meanwhile, Violet had toddled into the living room with her tiny pastel-pink backpack. At two years old, she was determined to do everything herself, especially if it meant keeping up with her big brother. She plopped the bag down on the floor, unzipped it with surprising force, and began “packing.”

First went in a handful of crayons—most without wrappers, some already worn down to stubs. Next, she stuffed in the house keys she had snatched from the coffee table. She added her dragon costume, but the one too small for her, the one Alice and Jen had gifted her the day after she was born. Then, after a moment’s consideration, she toddled toward the coat rack, tugged down one of Agatha’s elegant silk scarves, and added it to the mix.

“Mama’s!” Violet declared proudly, patting the bulging bag.

Agatha blinked, lifting her brows. “My scarf?”

“She’s sentimental,” Rio teased, crouching down to help, though Violet swatted her hands away.

“No!” Violet said firmly, glaring up at her with round, determined eyes. “Me do it.”

Nicky, always the good older brother, tried to intervene. “Violet, you need clothes. And your dragon. You can’t just take crayons and Mama’s scarf. Here—” He reached for her bag, but Violet clutched it to her chest like a treasure chest under siege.

“Mine!” she declared.

Rio sat cross-legged on the floor, trying not to laugh as she met Agatha’s eyes. “She’s got your stubborn streak.”

“Excuse me?” Agatha replied, but the faint twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement.

Violet, ignoring both of them, shoved the bag closed—though the zipper stuck halfway because of the scarf—and attempted to drag it toward the door. It toppled over twice, spilling crayons across the rug, but she kept trying, her little jaw set in absolute defiance.

“Vivi, sweetheart,” Agatha crouched beside her, speaking with patient calm. “You’ll need a change of clothes. And Yellow Dragon. Shall we pack those together?”

“No,” Violet repeated, hugging the lopsided bag closer. “Mine.”

Nicky huffed, hands on his hips. “She’s gonna regret it when she gets tired and doesn’t have Yellow Dragon.”

Rio reached out, ruffling his hair. “Which is why we’re going to be sneaky geniuses and pack a second bag.” She winked conspiratorially.

Nicky’s face lit up. “Like a secret backup?”

“Exactly,” Rio said, already pulling out another small duffel. “The essentials. Yellw dragon, wipes, extra clothes, snacks… basically all the boring but important stuff.”

“Yellow Dragon is not boring, Mom.”

Agatha slid seamlessly into the plan, gathering the necessary items with efficiency while Rio and Nicky made a game out of sneaking them into the duffel like secret agents. Every time Violet looked their way, they froze dramatically, pretending to study the ceiling or sip their coffee.

Violet, completely convinced of her autonomy, proudly finished zipping up her bag—still filled with crayons, keys, and the scarf—and marched it to the door with triumphant little stomps. “Gama!” she declared, her curls bouncing.

Agatha straightened, brushing her hands together and murmuring, “Heaven help Lilia.”

Rio laughed, swinging the duffel over her shoulder. “She raised me. She can handle this.”

Nicky followed proudly with his own overstuffed backpack—half practical, half “just in case” treasures. “Don’t worry, I’ve got Violet covered. If she forgets Yellow Dragon, I’ll share my comic books.”

“Generous,” Agatha said dryly, though her hand brushed the top of his hair as they moved toward the door.

The whole procession was pure Harkness-Vidal chaos: Violet dragging her tiny pink bag that kept tipping over, Nicky marching with determination under the weight of his own, Rio carrying the secret essentials, and Agatha holding the car keys (which she had retrieved from Violet’s bag at the last possible moment).

By the time they were all finally bundled toward the car, Rio was laughing, Violet was chanting “Gama! Gama! Gama!” in delight, and Nicky was explaining in elaborate detail how a flashlight could save them from “any disaster at all.”

Agatha, sliding into the driver’s seat, muttered under her breath, “And people wonder why I need strong coffee.”

Rio leaned across the console, kissing her cheek. “Because you married into chaos. And it multiplied.”

Agatha gave her a sideways look as she started the engine. “And don’t I know it.”

The drive over had been its usual blend of chatter, singing, and Violet periodically yelling for absolutely no other reason but the thrill of it. By the time the car rolled into Lilia’s familiar driveway, both kids were practically vibrating with excitement.

“Gama Lili! Gama!” Violet sang at the top of her lungs, clapping her hands as soon as she spotted the small garden gnome by the steps.

The front door opened before Agatha had even finished parking. Lilia was already on the porch, waving both arms with an enthusiasm that made Rio smile instantly. She had tied her silver-streaked hair back with a scarf—practical, but still stylish in that effortless way that was entirely hers.

“There they are! My favorite people in the whole world!” she exclaimed as soon as they piled out of the car.

Nicky darted up the path first, lugging his oversized backpack, which thumped loudly with every step. He barely made it two feet onto the porch before Lilia bent down and pulled him into a fierce hug. “My big boy! Oh, look at you—you’ve grown again, I swear it! Let me see you properly.” She pushed him back just far enough to look him over, cupping his cheeks. “When did you get so tall? You’ll be taller than me in no time.”

Nicky beamed. “I’m almost nine now! And I brought my soccer ball so we can play later.”

“Perfect,” Lilia said, giving his cheek one last squeeze before Violet barreled into her knees.

“Gamaaaa!” Violet squealed, throwing her tiny arms around her.

“Oh, my sweet girl!” Lilia’s voice softened instantly, and she crouched low to gather Violet up. “Come here, let Grandma see you. Look at those curls, and those cheeks! Have you gotten even more beautiful since I saw you last week? I think you have.”

Violet giggled, pressing her face into Lilia’s shoulder, still clutching her crooked little backpack. Lilia noticed and laughed. “What’s in here, darling? Rocks? Treasures?”

“Dwagon,” Violet said proudly, as though she’d brought gold bars.

“Of course, your dragon. The most important thing.” Lilia kissed her temple before setting her back down, though she kept one hand on her granddaughter’s head like she wasn’t ready to let go.

By then, Agatha and Rio had joined them on the porch, carrying the extra bags. Lilia straightened and pulled them both into hugs that were equally fierce, pressing her hands to their arms like she needed to convince herself they were really there.

“My girls,” she said warmly, first to Rio, then to Agatha. “I’ve missed you both. You look too thin—are you eating properly? And Agatha, what is this? Heels again? You’ll ruin your back if you’re not careful.”

Rio rolled her eyes affectionately. “We’re fine, mother. We eat. We sleep. We drink coffee like normal people.”

Lilia gave her a look that said she believed exactly half of that. Then she turned to Agatha, fussing with the lapel of her jacket. “And you—working too hard again, I can tell. Don’t think I can’t see those circles under your eyes.”

Agatha accepted it with her usual amused patience, lips twitching. “It’s only the first week back, Lilia. Hardly time to burn out.”

“Mm-hm. I’ll believe it when I see you rest,” Lilia muttered, but there was no real sting in it. She ushered them all inside like a queen gathering her court, Violet skipping beside her, Nicky running ahead to drop his bag with a heavy thud near the couch.

The house smelled like roasted chicken and herbs, comforting and homey. “I started lunch already,” Lilia announced. “Roast chicken, potatoes, vegetables, and that bread you like, Rio. And I was thinking we could bake cookies together, because I know someone will be asking for them for dessert.”

“Cookies!” Nicky shouted from the living room, as if on cue.

Rio laughed, dropping her bag by the door. “You spoil them, Mom.”

“That’s my job,” Lilia replied with a shrug, smoothing a hand over Violet’s hair. “Grandmas are supposed to spoil. And you two—you deserve spoiling, too. Sit, sit. Let me get you some tea. Or coffee, if you insist on that sludge you call coffee.”

Agatha chuckled under her breath as she and Rio exchanged a glance. For once, Rio didn’t protest. She let herself be ushered toward the couch, where Violet immediately clambered onto her lap. Nicky was already pulling his grandmother toward the kitchen, eager to check the cookie jar.

Lilia looked back at them—her daughter, her daughter-in-law, and her grandchildren filling the house with life—and her whole face softened. She was in full Grandma mode now, fussing, feeding, loving without limits. And honestly, none of them minded one bit.

The kitchen had always been the heart of Lilia’s house—warm, bright, and full of the all sorts of lingering scents that seemed to live in the walls themselves. Today was no different: butter softening on the counter, a faint trace of herbs for lunch, and now the promise of something sweet.

“Cookies,” Violet declared in her tiny voice as Lilia tied a little apron around her waist. The apron was nearly bigger than she was, but she patted it proudly. “Me help.”

“Yes, you are,” Lilia said with a conspiratorial smile, kissing the top of her head. “My very best helper.”

“Hey!” Nicky piped up indignantly as he climbed onto the stool next to the counter. “I’m a helper too.”

“You’re more than a helper,” Lilia corrected, slipping a child-sized apron over him as well. “You’re head chef today. Do you think you can handle that responsibility?”

Nicky puffed his chest out, clearly thrilled. “Of course! I know everything about cookies.”

Rio, standing at the doorway with Agatha, stifled a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

But Lilia had already turned, hands on her hips, her matriarch voice in full force. “Alright, you two, this kitchen is ours. That means your mamas go sit in the garden, relax, and let Grandma handle the baking.”

“Mom, are you sure—” Rio started, but Lilia waved a hand.

“Out. Both of you. I’ve got these chefs right where I want them. Go breathe fresh air, drink something cold, and let me spoil my grandbabies.”

Agatha raised a brow, her mouth twitching. “That sounded less like an offer and more like an order.”

“Exactly,” Lilia replied. “Shoo.”

So, shoed they were. Agatha and Rio headed out through the back door to the garden, leaving behind the muffled clatter of bowls and the rising chatter of children.

Inside, Lilia turned her attention to the tiny whirlwind that was Violet, who had already managed to drag a wooden spoon across the counter, leaving a streak of flour like a battle scar.

“Step one,” Lilia said, gently guiding her. “Butter and sugar. We need to cream them together.”

“Cweam,” Violet echoed solemnly, though instead of watching, she was already reaching for the small bowl of chocolate chips on the side.

“Not yet, baby,” Lilia laughed, moving it out of reach.

“I’m head chef,” Nicky declared, banging his spoon on the counter for emphasis. “So I say we add chocolate first.”

“That’s not how it works,” Lilia said lightly, setting the mixing bowl in front of him. “Head chefs follow recipes too. But—” She lowered her voice, eyes sparkling. “Head chefs also get to sneak a few chips when Grandma’s not looking.”

Nicky grinned, his loyalty instantly sealed. While Lilia turned to measure flour, he pinched a handful of chocolate chips and shared them with Violet, whispering, “Don’t tell.”

Violet’s eyes went wide with delight. She popped one into her mouth, giggling as though it were the best secret in the world. “No tell,” she promised, though her chocolate-smeared smile gave her away instantly.

“Now,” Lilia said as she returned, feigning ignorance, “we add the eggs.” She cracked one cleanly and handed the shell to Nicky for the discard bowl. Then she handed Violet the second egg. “Think you can crack it, sweet girl?”

Violet smacked it once on the counter, then held it up proudly, bits of shell already flaking off into her palm and egg whites running along her hand. “Me do it!”

“Yes, you did,” Lilia said, carefully intercepting before yolk ended up all over the floor. “Grandma will help finish.” She broke it cleanly into the bowl, then set Violet on stirring duty with her tiny spoon.

“Loop, loop, loop”, Violet sang as she made wide, messy circles, most of the dough sticking to the spoon rather than blending.

Meanwhile, Nicky was already elbow-deep in flour, “helping” by leveling cups and dusting half the counter in the process. He looked very serious about it, tongue sticking out in concentration.

“Perfect,” Lilia praised, though the mess suggested otherwise. “Every chef has their own style.”

As the dough came together, Violet took every opportunity to sneak fingers into the bowl, scooping raw bits straight into her mouth.

“Vivi, you can’t keep eating it raw,” Nicky scolded, though he wasn’t much better, slipping chunks of dough to himself whenever he thought Lilia wasn’t looking.

“You both have chocolate on your faces,” Lilia announced, turning back with a tray in her hands.

“Nooo,” Violet giggled, covering her mouth with her doughy hands.

“Yes, yes,” Lilia chuckled. “But that’s what makes you my best chefs.” She helped them roll the dough into balls, though Nicky insisted his had to be the biggest.

When the trays were finally ready, she slid them into the oven and dusted her hands. “There,” she said proudly. “Now we wait.”

“Waiting’s boring,” Nicky said, though his eyes were already bright with anticipation.

Violet climbed back onto her stool, patting her stomach. “Mowe?” she asked hopefully, her hands bunching and tapping each other, signing ‘more’ with her hands.

“Not more dough, little bird,” Lilia said, kissing her cheek. “But I promise, the cookies will be ready soon. And they’ll taste even better because you made them. Should we start on a second batch ? I think Mommy likes the peanut butter ones too.”

Nicky immediately lit up as he nodded his head furiously

Outside, Agatha and Rio had settled onto the wooden bench at first, mugs of iced tea in hand, enjoying the quiet while inside the kitchen their children caused what could only be described as organized chaos.

“I’m bored,” Rio announced after five whole minutes, stretching across the bench like a cat. “We should do something.”

“You could sit still and enjoy the peace,” Agatha said dryly, sipping her tea.

Rio immediately stood, eyes sparkling. “Or—hear me out—I could hop on your back, and you could carry me to the roses. I haven’t seen them all summer.”

Agatha lowered her glass slowly. “You’re thirty-two.”

“And you’re forty-five, what’s your point?” Rio shot back with a grin. ”Besides, you’re strong as hell

“Excuse me?” Agatha arched a brow, but there was already the telltale twitch of a smile threatening her lips.

“Please, mama bear,” Rio said in a faux-sweet voice, clasping her hands together like a supplicant. “Pretty please? With sugar on top? And maybe some chocolate chips if the kids haven’t eaten them all?”

Agatha groaned, muttering under her breath, “Why did I marry you again?” But she was already setting down her mug, straightening with the air of someone resigned to their fate.

“Because you love me,” Rio chirped, and before Agatha could protest further, she’d hopped onto her back with all the grace of a gleeful teenager, looping her arms tight around Agatha’s neck.

Agatha staggered for a second under the sudden weight. “Good grief, Rio, my back can’t handle it.”

“Excuse you,” Rio said, scandalized. “I’m dainty. Delicate. A feather.”

“A sack of potatoes, more like,” Agatha countered, but she adjusted her stance and started walking anyway, her sandals crunching against the gravel path.

Rio whooped triumphantly. “Onward, my noble steed! To the roses!”

“You’re insufferable,” Agatha muttered, though her hands looped around Rio’s legs to keep her balanced. Her long hair had fallen forward over one shoulder, and Rio buried her face in it for a moment, inhaling like it was perfume.

“Mm. My favorite smell,” Rio said softly. “Garden and Agatha.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, though her lips curved upward.

They passed the patch of lavender first, and Rio pointed like a commander giving orders. “Left! Left to the lavender!”

Agatha obeyed with exaggerated sighs, trudging in the direction. “You know, if anyone’s watching from the street, they’ll think I’ve lost my mind.”

“Correction: they’ll think you’re whipped,” Rio said smugly.

That made Agatha glance up at her over her shoulder, eyes softer now despite the banter. “Well, that part is true.”

For a second, Rio’s teasing energy faltered, replaced with something tender, and she kissed the top of Agatha’s head. “Me too.”

They reached the rose bushes finally, pink and red blossoms tumbling over themselves in a riot of late bloom. Rio stretched her arms out like she’d arrived at the gates of heaven. “Behold! The land of beauty!”

“You’re going to make me regret bringing you,” Agatha muttered, shifting her wife higher on her back with a grunt.

But Rio only laughed, resting her chin on Agatha’s shoulder. “You’d never regret me.”

“Sometimes I regret agreeing to these antics,” Agatha corrected.

They lingered by the roses, Agatha finally crouching to let Rio slide off her back. Rio landed with a little bounce, immediately crouching to touch a bloom gently with her fingers.

“They’re so much bigger than last year,” Rio said in awe.

“Your mother has been busy,” Agatha agreed, brushing dirt from her palms. “Though I think she spoils them as much as she spoils the kids.”

“That’s just her way,” Rio said, straightening and leaning into Agatha’s side. “She nurtures everything. Plants, people, us.”

Agatha slipped an arm around her waist, pressing her close. “Even us,” she echoed, her voice soft now.

They stood like that for a moment, the world hushed around them except for the distant sound of children’s laughter drifting from the kitchen window. Agatha’s head rested lightly against Rio’s temple, and Rio closed her eyes, breathing in the mix of roses, lavender, and Agatha’s perfume.

“You know,” Rio whispered, “if we act like this much longer, she’s going to come out here and catch us being sappy.”

“She’ll just be glad we’re happy,” Agatha murmured back.

Rio turned, tilting her wife’s face toward her, and kissed her—quick and sweet at first, then slower, as if to say thank you without words.

Agatha smiled against her lips.

Rio tugged her back toward the path. “Come on, noble steed, the lilies await!”

Agatha groaned, but her hand never left Rio’s.

By the time Agatha and Rio had made the rounds of the lilies, the tulips, the hydrangeas, and even the modest vegetable patch Lilia had proudly coaxed into thriving, they were both a little flushed from the sun and smiling wider than they had in weeks. Rio had collected three petals that had fallen naturally from different flowers—one yellow, one red, one pink—and tucked one into Agatha’s shirt pocket with a solemn declaration that it was her “garden badge of honor,” keeping the other two for the kids.

Agatha rolled her eyes but didn’t remove it.b “Come on. Before your mother starts yelling about the disaster zone the children are almost certainly creating.”

Rio snorted. “She won’t yell. She’ll encourage it. Grandma chaos at its finest.”

Together, hand in hand, they wandered back inside through the sliding doors, following the sweet, sugary smell that practically spilled out of the kitchen. The second they stepped over the threshold, Agatha stopped short. Rio bumped into her and then burst into a laugh.

“Oh… my God.”

The scene was nothing short of glorious chaos. Flour dusted the air like a snowstorm had passed through, settling across countertops, the tiled floor, even streaked faintly through Lilia’s hair. Mixing bowls were everywhere, some empty, some half-full of mysterious dough in varying consistencies. Nicky was hunched over the big wooden table, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated hard on shaping his cookie dough into something that vaguely resembled a dinosaur.

“I’m making a T-Rex, Moms!” he announced proudly without even looking up. “But he keeps turning into a blobasaurus.”

Meanwhile, Violet had clearly staged a coup and claimed the countertop as her throne. The two-year-old was perched smack in the middle of it, legs swinging happily, a wooden spoon in one hand like a royal scepter. Chocolate smears covered her cheeks, her chin, and most of her shirt. She beamed the moment she spotted her moms, babbling excitedly as though narrating her own mischief.

“Mamaaaaa! Cholate!” she declared, holding out her tiny fist, which was clutching a small pile of semi-melted chips.

Agatha groaned softly, muttering, “Why is she on the counter?”

But Rio just laughed, clapping her hands. “Oh, look at you, Vivi! Kitchen queen!”

Violet squealed louder, bouncing slightly in place, her curls bouncing with her. She immediately tried to shove a chocolate chip into Rio’s mouth when she leaned closer. “Mama eat!”

Rio opened obediently, letting her daughter drop the half-melted chip right onto her tongue. “Mmm. Best chocolate I ever had.”

That seemed to satisfy Violet, who then turned to Agatha, extending her other fist imperiously. “Mama too!”

Agatha hesitated, eyeing the suspiciously sticky little hand. But the triumphant sparkle in Violet’s eyes was impossible to resist. She leaned down, letting her daughter press the chocolate chip directly against her lips. She grimaced, exaggeratedly smacking her mouth afterward. “Delicious, darling. Just exquisite.”

Violet giggled so hard she nearly toppled sideways, and Lilia caught her by the waist with quick reflexes, steadying her before she tumbled off her perch.

“Don’t worry,” Lilia said cheerfully, utterly unfazed by the flour covering half her kitchen. “She’s been my official taste-tester. And Nicky here—” She tilted her head toward the boy at the table. “—has declared himself head chef.”

“I am head chef,” Nicky corrected firmly, eyes still narrowed on his dough. He carefully pressed a chocolate chip into what looked like the dinosaur’s eye socket. “Vivi’s my assistant. She eats everything I don’t need.”

“Seems like she’s doing a fine job of it,” Rio teased, ruffling her son’s hair as she moved past him.

Agatha shook her head, slipping her heels off to avoid sliding on flour, and went to stand next to Lilia. “You’ve created monsters.”

“They’re perfect monsters,” Lilia countered, smiling as she wiped Violet’s chin with the corner of a dish towel. “And don’t you dare complain. This is what childhood memories are made of.”

Rio grabbed a spoon from the counter, dipping it into the extra dough. “And cavities,” she added around a mouthful.

Nicky gasped in offense. “Mommy! That’s stealing! That’s my dino dough!”

“I’m just… testing quality control,” Rio said with a wink, crouching down to his level.

Violet, not to be outdone, immediately stuffed another fistful of chocolate chips into her mouth, smearing her cheeks and shirt even more. She babbled something incomprehensible but clearly triumphant, as though declaring herself the winner of some secret competition only she understood.

Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose, trying very hard not to smile. “We leave them alone for twenty minutes, and this happens.”

Rio leaned into her, brushing a smear of flour from her sleeve and kissing her cheek. “Yeah,” she said softly, watching their kids with open affection. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

And as Violet shoved yet another sticky offering toward her moms and Nicky proudly displayed his misshapen but earnest dinosaur cookie, Agatha had to admit—yes. Yes, it was.

By the time the cookies were cooling on the counter and the flour storm had settled, it was obvious that Violet had taken the worst of the damage. Her little shirt was almost unrecognizable beneath streaks of chocolate, patches of dough, and flour handprints. Her leggings didn’t fare much better—sticky in some places, dusted white in others. She sat proudly on the counter still, swinging her legs and babbling happily, absolutely not bothered by the stickiness of her shirt.

Rio tilted her head, surveying her daughter. “Well,” she announced solemnly, “Vivi, you’ve officially turned into a baby cookie.”

Violet babbled something that sounded suspiciously like “cookie!” and clapped her hands together, sending a puff of flour into the air.

Agatha exhaled through her nose, already reaching for the bag they’d brought. “All right, let’s change her before she becomes permanently frosted.” She knelt and opened the bag, sifting through snacks, wipes, extra diapers, and Violet’s water bottle—but no clothes. Her brows furrowed. “Darling, where’s the change of clothes?”

Rio froze mid-cookie bite. She blinked, swallowed quickly, then pointed to Agatha. “You packed them.”

“No, you packed them,” Agatha corrected, her voice calm but with the faint edge of someone realizing a disaster was unfolding.

They both stared at each other, realization dawning in perfect, terrible clarity.

Rio’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Tell me you didn’t.”

Agatha sat back on her heels, sighing. “Apparently, I did not.”

At that exact moment, Violet patted her gooey shirt and declared proudly, “Messy!” before smearing another streak of chocolate across her sleeve.

“Messy, yes,” Rio muttered, running a hand through her hair. “And no clean clothes. Brilliant parenting from your mommies, sweetheart. Just brilliant.”

From across the kitchen, Lilia had been quietly watching this exchange with great amusement, her arms folded loosely as she leaned against the counter. The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried and failed to hide her grin. Finally, she stepped in, her tone brimming with grandmotherly authority and cheer.

“You two act like this is the first time children have ever gotten dirty,” she said warmly. “Don’t panic. I may not have spare clothes, but I do have something better.”

Both Agatha and Rio turned to her with twin looks of exasperation. “Better?” Agatha repeated skeptically.

“Much better,” Lilia confirmed, her eyes twinkling. “Upstairs, in the guest room, there’s a trunk full of costumes. Old ones from when Nicky was little, and a few extras I picked up for Violet. She can wear one of those for the day.”

Rio let out a sudden laugh, covering her face with her hands. “Oh no. Oh, this is going to be so good.”

Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose, though her lips betrayed a reluctant smile. “So we’ll be parading our daughter around dressed as… what, exactly? A pirate? A pumpkin?”

“Possibly,” Lilia said innocently, though her grin gave her away. “That’s part of the fun.”

Before Agatha could object further, Rio had already scooped up Violet—sticky shirt, chocolate-smudged cheeks and all. The toddler squealed with delight, clinging to her mom’s neck and smearing more chocolate onto Rio’s shoulder.

“Come on, sticky cookie,” Rio said cheerfully, pressing a kiss to Violet’s cheek without caring about the mess. “Let’s see what fabulous wardrobe Grandma’s hiding for us.”

Nicky, who had been carefully guarding his dinosaur cookie creation, perked up at the mention of costumes. “Wait!” he cried, hopping off his chair. “I’m staying here with Grandma, but you better pick the perfect costume for Vivi! Not something boring. She needs to look awesome.”

“Awesome, huh?” Rio asked, arching an eyebrow as she shifted Violet higher on her hip.

“Super awesome,” Nicky said seriously, hands on his hips like a miniature commander. “She’s my little sister. She can’t just wear anything.”

Agatha chuckled softly, brushing flour from her pants. “I’ll keep your quality standards in mind, commander. Though I have a feeling your definition of ‘awesome’ involves capes and possibly plastic swords.”

“Exactly,” Nicky confirmed with great dignity.

Agatha shook her head, muttering something about absurdity, but she stepped toward the doorway anyway. Rio, still carrying Violet, gave Nicky a playful salute with her free hand before disappearing toward the stairs.

As they climbed, Violet babbled happily in her mommy’s arms, clearly delighted at the prospect of this mysterious trunk. Rio glanced at Agatha, her grin wide. “You realize this is fate, right? We forgot clothes so Vivi could become fabulous.”

Agatha rolled her eyes as they reached the top of the stairs. “Let’s just hope ‘fabulous’ doesn’t mean glitter. I draw the line at glitter.”

They both laughed softly as they turned down the hallway, headed for the infamous costume trunk—ready to discover what outlandish outfit their chocolate-covered daughter would end up in.

Upstairs, the guest room smelled faintly of cedar and lavender, the air touched by the comforting stillness that always hung around Lilia’s home. The trunk sat in the corner like some great treasure chest from a fairy tale, its wooden lid carved with faded floral designs. Rio, still holding a squirming Violet on her hip, approached it with exaggerated ceremony.

“Behold!” she announced grandly, crouching to unlatch the brass clasps. “The magical costume trunk of Grandma’s house. Within lies the destiny of our little chocolate-covered monster.”

Violet giggled at the word “monster” and wriggled until Agatha took her from Rio’s arms, balancing the sticky toddler against her hip as Rio heaved the trunk lid open with a hiss.

Inside was a colorful jumble—tiny pirate hats, floppy animal ears, tulle skirts, sparkly capes, and remnants of Nicky’s old costumes folded neatly alongside a few newer additions.

“Oh,” Rio gasped. “This is a gold mine. We could put on a Broadway show with all this.”

Agatha smirked, shifting Violet to sit her on the bed. “Or we could just dress our daughter in one costume and call it a day.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Rio teased, already pulling out pieces one by one and spreading them across the quilt like priceless possesions. A tiny pirate vest. A faded superhero cape. A pumpkin hat with a green felt stem.

Violet’s eyes grew wide as more and more choices appeared in front of her. She clapped her little hands, babbling nonsense as if giving a commentary on the proceedings.

“All right, Baby Moon,” Agatha said, smoothing a stubborn curl from her daughter’s forehead. “You get to choose. Which one will it be?”

Rio crouched at the edge of the bed, holding up two options like a game show host. “Option one: classic pirate. Very stylish, lots of authority. Option two: pumpkin chic. Bold choice, seasonal, says ‘I’m here to party’.”

Violet leaned forward, grabbed the pirate hat, and immediately tried to chew on the brim.

“Ah, strong contender!” Rio said approvingly. “But perhaps not edible, my love.”

Agatha lifted the pumpkin hat and placed it gently on Violet’s head. Violet blinked, reached up, and promptly yanked it off, tossing it aside with an emphatic “Nooo.”

“That’s a clear veto,” Agatha said dryly.

The process continued: a fairy tutu that made Violet laugh but then whine when it itched her legs, a tiny superhero cape that she enjoyed flapping but refused to wear, and a pair of fuzzy cat ears that she tolerated for all of three seconds before tearing them off.

Rio sat back on her heels, looking slightly overwhelmed. “She’s more decisive than I thought. She knows what she doesn’t want, at least.”

“Like her Mommy,” Agatha teased.

Finally, Rio’s hands landed on a familiar bundle tucked beneath the rest. She pulled it out, and recognition sparked in her eyes. “Wait a second—oh my God. Agatha, look.”

It was a tiny bumblebee costume, complete with striped body, little wings, and a hood with soft antennae.

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t that…?”

“Yes! Alice and Jen sent this for her birthday! We totally left it here last time.” Rio held it up in front of Violet, her voice full of exaggerated excitement. “Vivi, look! A bee! Buzz, buzz!”

Violet gasped as if recognizing destiny itself. Her little hands shot out, grabbing the yellow-and-black stripes. “Bee!” she squealed, bouncing in place.

“That’s the one, then,” Agatha said with a resigned but affectionate smile. “Our daughter has chosen her path.”

The dressing process was not without struggle—wiggling toddler legs, Velcro that refused to align on the first try, and Violet’s insistence on holding one antenna in her hand the entire time. But once they had her fully suited, there was no denying it: she was the most adorable bumblebee the world had ever seen.

“Oh no,” Rio whispered dramatically, clutching her heart. “She’s too cute. It’s dangerous. My knees are weak. My uterus too.”

Agatha, who was usually the more composed one, leaned down in front of Violet and adjusted the tiny wings, her lips softening into a helpless smile. “You’re right. She’s irresistible.”

Violet beamed, standing proudly on the middle of the bed and turning in a circle to show off. “Bee! Bee!” she chanted. “Me Vivi Bee.”

Rio snatched her phone and snapped at least ten pictures before Agatha could roll her eyes. “We have to document this for science. And for blackmail when she’s older.”

When they finally carried her back downstairs, Violet strutted into the kitchen like she owned the place, wings fluttering slightly with each wobbling step.

“Beeeee!” she announced at the top of her tiny lungs.

Nicky’s jaw dropped. “No way!” He shot to his feet, running over to crouch in front of her. “Vivi, you’re a bee! You look awesome! You’re Vivi Bee !”

Violet clapped her hands, delighted by her brother’s approval, and promptly pointed at him as if to say, See? Nicky gets it.

Lilia pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes shining with joy. “Oh, sweetheart, you look darling! Absolutely darling!” She scooped Violet up, kissing her cheek despite the faint chocolate smears still visible. “My little bumblebee.”

Agatha and Rio exchanged a glance over their children’s heads, laughter bubbling between them. Whatever chaos the day had brought, this moment was perfect.

*

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Chapter Text

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The kitchen smelled heavenly by the time Lilia announced that lunch was ready. The aromas of roasted vegetables, garlic, and something slow-cooked and savory drifted through the air, making Nicky bounce on his toes with excitement.

“Food, finally!” he exclaimed, as if it had been days since breakfast. “Grandma, you’re the best cook ever.”

Lilia chuckled, waving him toward the table. “Flattery will get you an extra helping, sweetheart. Now go wash your hands properly—soap, not just water.”

Nicky gave her a quick salute before dashing to the sink. Violet, however, was still buzzing around the kitchen—literally buzzing, thanks to her bee costume. Rio caught her just as she was about to toddle toward the hot oven, scooping her up with ease.

“Not today, little bee. You’re dangerous enough with chocolate chips, we don’t need you adding burns and smoke to your résumé.”

Violet squealed happily, kicking her feet, but let herself be carried over to the table. Agatha pulled the high chair closer and secured their daughter into it, adjusting the straps while Violet tried to help by smacking the tray with both hands.

“There,” Agatha said, brushing a curl out of the little girl’s eyes and kissing her forehead. “Queen Bee is ready for her royal feast.”

The table looked like something out of a magazine—platters of roasted chicken, golden potatoes with spices, a big dish of green beans tossed with almonds, and a warm basket of bread. There was even a bubbling casserole that Lilia set down last, steam curling up in little tendrils.

Rio sniffed the air dramatically, closing her eyes. “Mom, if you keep cooking like this, we’re going to move in.”

“You’ve been threatening that since you moved away for college,” Lilia teased, patting her daughter’s cheek as she took her own seat. “Now hush and eat before it gets cold.”

They all settled in, passing dishes around the table, helping Nicky with his plate while Violet babbled and reached her arms out for whatever looked interesting. Agatha carefully cut tiny pieces of chicken for her, placing them on her tray alongside soft potatoes.

For a while, everything was blissfully calm. Nicky dug into his food with the gusto of a child who lived for Grandma’s cooking, already declaring it the “best meal in the world.” Rio buttered her bread with far too much enthusiasm, stealing bites off Agatha’s plate just to make her roll her eyes. Violet clapped each time a new piece of food appeared in front of her, smearing potato across the tray in the process.

Then, like a storm cloud rolling in, Violet’s mood shifted. One moment she was happily chewing a green bean, the next she was pushing everything away with a loud, indignant grunt.

“Uh oh,” Rio murmured, exchanging a look with Agatha.

The toddler’s face screwed up, her little hands flailing dramatically. “Nooo! Nooo!” she wailed, throwing a piece of potato overboard. It plopped onto the floor with an audible splat.

Agatha sighed, already reaching for the paper towels. “Here we go.”

Violet’s tantrum escalated quickly—she kicked against the high chair, flung a chunk of bread to the side, and let out a screech that could have startled crows out of the trees. Nicky winced, covering his ears.

“Why does she always do this when food is amazing?” he muttered.

Rio tried her usual approach, crouching so she was eye-level with her daughter. “Hey, hey, little bee. What’s going on? Don’t you want to eat like the rest of us?”

But Violet only shook her head harder, her cheeks red, eyes watery, fists pounding the tray with tiny thuds.

Agatha leaned back in her chair, shoulders already tensing. “This isn’t going anywhere. She’s overtired, she’s sticky, and she doesn’t want to be strapped in.”

Before either mom could make another move, Lilia calmly stood, as if this entire performance were part of the routine. She moved with quiet authority, reaching Violet’s side with the same ease she had once used when Rio was much much older.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said gently, brushing a hand over the toddler’s curls. “All this fuss for nothing.”

To Agatha and Rio’s astonishment, she unbuckled Violet with a quick click, lifted her effortlessly onto her hip, and began swaying from side to side. At the same time, she picked up one of the soft potato pieces and offered it between her fingers.

“Just a taste,” she coaxed.

Violet hiccupped mid-cry, looked suspicious, then opened her mouth and nibbled the potato. A beat later, she gave a little “Mmm” and reached for more.

“See?” Lilia cooed, slipping another bite to her. “Delicious. Nothing to cry about.”

Within moments, the tantrum had dissolved into quiet munching. Violet cuddled against her grandmother’s shoulder, still occasionally pointing for another bite, her earlier dramatics forgotten.

Agatha blinked, utterly baffled. Rio sat frozen with a piece of bread halfway to her mouth.

“How—” Rio started. “How did you…?”

“It’s grandmother magic,” Nicky declared knowingly, as if he’d just uncovered a great secret of the universe.

Agatha tilted her head, studying Lilia with real wonder. “I swear, she was on the verge of exploding and now she’s purring like a kitten. What sorcery is this?”

Lilia chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Violet’s hair. “No sorcery. Just patience. And maybe a little bit of magic.”

Rio narrowed her eyes playfully. “Yeah, it’s definitely magic. I’ve seen Agatha try the exact same thing, and it ends with both of them crying.”

Agatha shot her a glare, though her lips betrayed the faintest smile.

For the rest of the meal, Violet stayed perched on Lilia’s lap, happily nibbling whatever her grandmother slipped her way. Every now and then, she’d clap her hands or rest her head against Lilia’s shoulder, completely at ease.

The mothers watched, a mix of awe and relief settling over them.

“You know,” Agatha said quietly, sipping her water, “I think we’re both a little redundant here. Grandma clearly has everything under control.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Rio whispered back. “If she volunteers to keep them overnight, I might actually say yes this time.”

Lilia heard them, of course, but she only smiled, her eyes twinkling as she fed another bite to her granddaughter. Whatever else the day held, it was clear: Grandma magic was real, and it was unstoppable.

After lunch, the house fell into that soft, drowsy quiet that usually followed a full meal. Plates were stacked neatly in the sink, leftovers tucked away by Lilia’s efficient hands, and the aroma of roasted herbs lingered faintly in the air.

It was Violet’s naptime, at least in theory. In reality, the little girl was buzzing just as much as her costume suggested. She wriggled and squealed when Agatha tried to carry her toward the guest room, arms and legs stiff like a tiny starfish determined not to be put down.

“She doesn’t want to sleep,” Nicky said with a smirk, sprawled across the couch like he’d just conquered lunch and needed to recover.

“She needs to sleep,” Agatha corrected, though her tone was more weary than stern. She adjusted Violet, who had her arms clamped firmly around her mother’s neck. “But since someone seems ready to stage a protest, I suppose I’ll be her mattress for the afternoon.”

Rio laughed softly, kissing the top of Violet’s head before Agatha carried her into the living room and lowered herself onto the couch. The toddler immediately nestled against her mother’s chest, tiny fists still clutching at Agatha’s blouse.

“She’ll crash eventually,” Agatha murmured, already settling back against the cushions with the patience of someone who’d done this dance many times before. “Until then, I’m stuck.”

“You say that like it’s a punishment,” Rio teased, dropping down beside her, careful not to jostle Violet. “I know you love being used as a bed. God knows I do it too.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. She brushed a hand over Violet’s curls, her touch light and steady, and the little girl sighed in contentment, though her eyes remained stubbornly open.

“Grandma!” Nicky piped up suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Can we see the photo albums again?”

Lilia, who was just finishing wiping down the table, looked over with a smile. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s get them.”

Nicky scrambled up to help her retrieve the stack of well-worn albums from the sideboard. They carried them to the coffee table, sliding a couple onto the rug so there would be space to spread them out. The covers were bent from years of use, the pages inside thick with glossy photos and little notes in Lilia’s tidy handwriting.

“Oh no,” Rio muttered, watching them set up. “Not the archives.”

“Oh yes,” Nicky said gleefully, flipping one open. “We’re starting at the beginning.”

The first few pages showed Rio at sixteen, just after she’d come to live with Lilia—awkward smile, eyes a little too guarded, but already showing sparks of the fire that made her who she was. Nicky grinned, pointing. “Mom, you look like a teenager who just got caught sneaking out.”

Rio groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Because I was a teenager who just got caught sneaking out. Why did you keep that picture, Mom?”

“Because it’s part of who you were,” Lilia answered simply, reaching over to smooth the edge of the page. “And look at how far you’ve come.”

Agatha’s lips quirked as she glanced down, her gaze flicking to her wife. “I think you were adorable,” she said, smugly enjoying the pink rising in Rio’s cheeks.

The albums moved on to the early days of Agatha and Rio’s relationship—grainy photos from evenings spent at Lilia’s kitchen table, blurry concert shots Alice or Jen had taken, candid smiles that neither of them had realized were being captured.

Nicky pointed at one where Agatha had an arm around Rio’s shoulders. “Wow, Mom’s face is so red.”

Rio buried her face in her hands again. “We are not looking at that one.”

“Oh, we definitely are,” Agatha murmured, leaning closer to study the picture with obvious delight. “I remember that night.”

They turned pages slowly, lingering on Rio’s graduation, Agatha beaming on stage, Lilia crying openly in the front row. Then came the photos from their wedding—sunlit smiles, Rio in her dress, Agatha with her hair tumbling in long waves underneath the flower crown.

“Whoa,” Nicky breathed, flipping through them with awe even though he’d seen them before and he had literally been at the wedding. He reached a picture of himself in his little tuxedo.  “I really looked like a movie star,” he said, puffing out his chest.

“You were the most handsome guy, baby.”

Rio softened, resting her chin against Agatha’s shoulder as they both gazed at the pictures. “That was the best day,” she whispered.

Next came other pictures of Nicky himself—missing teeth, school plays, ballet recitals, frosting all over his face at birthday parties. He groaned and tried to skip a few pages, but Rio wouldn’t let him. Some picture were even form way before, given by Agatha to Lilia, so she could have pictures of Nicky as a baby and make those memories her own.

“Aw, look at my little baby,” Rio said dramatically, pulling him into a hug he wriggled to escape.

“Stop, Mom! I’m not a baby anymore.”

“You’ll always be my baby,” she teased.

Then the albums shifted to Violet. Photos of the hospital, Rio exhausted but radiant, Agatha with tears in her eyes as she held her daughter for the first time. There were snapshots of Nicky meeting his baby sister, his smile almost splitting his face. More recent pages showed Violet toddling around, her curls growing wilder, her personality shining through every messy, joyful moment.

Violet, who had been half-watching from Agatha’s lap, perked up when she spotted the baby pictures. She pointed eagerly at each one, her voice loud and certain. “Me!”

“No, that’s Nicky,” Rio corrected gently at one, but Violet shook her head stubbornly.

“Me!” she insisted, jabbing her finger at the page.

Agatha chuckled, rubbing her back. “She’s going to claim every baby photo in this house as her own.”

“Honestly,” Rio said, “she’s not wrong. From what you showed me, she does look exactly like Nicky did at that age. Funny how genetics works.”

“Me!” Violet declared again, pointing with such determination that everyone laughed.

The pages turned more slowly after that, the rhythm of the afternoon softening. Nicky stretched out on the rug, still flipping pages, while Rio leaned against Agatha’s side, her arm draped across the back of the couch. Violet’s blinks grew longer, her babbling less frequent.

Eventually, the little girl gave in. Her body relaxed completely, tiny legs flopping across Rio’s lap while her head nestled into Agatha’s chest. Her breath evened out, soft and steady, one small hand still clutching the fabric of Agatha’s blouse.

“There it is,” Agatha whispered, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s curls. “The inevitable crash.”

Rio reached over to adjust Violet’s bumblebee costume so she’d be more comfortable, her eyes soft. “She looks so peaceful when she’s like this.”

Agatha’s hand rested on Rio’s knee, warm and grounding. “So do you.”

Rio smiled, leaning her head against her wife’s shoulder. Across the room, Nicky was still poring over photos with Lilia, but on the couch, everything had gone quiet—just the steady rise and fall of Violet’s breathing.

When Violet finally stirred from her nap, blinking awake and stretching her little arms with a sleepy groan, the whole house seemed to exhale along with her. Agatha shifted to let Rio scoop the toddler into her arms, pressing soft kisses against her daughter’s warm cheeks as Violet yawned herself into wakefulness.

“Hello, sleepy bee,” Rio murmured, adjusting the crooked little bumblebee wings that had gotten crumpled during her nap. “Did you dream of honey?”

Violet responded with a grin that showed her dimples, followed quickly by an insistent “Down!”—her way of declaring she was ready to resume her busy life.

As Rio set her down, she stretched, then glanced out the window where late-afternoon sunlight spilled across the garden. “You know,” she said, her voice bright, “From what I’ve seen this morning, I think some of the flowers need watering.”

Lilia perked up instantly. “Oh, you’re right. The sun has been strong these past days. Come, let’s all go together.”

Nicky leapt to his feet like a soldier summoned to duty. “I’ll help! I want to do it right.”

Agatha raised an amused eyebrow. “I never doubted you’d approach like a very important mission.”

“Gardening is serious,” Nicky shot back, earning a laugh from both Rio and Lilia.

Within minutes, they were outside again, the golden light painting the garden in a warm glow. Lilia fetched a couple of watering cans—one large for herself and Rio, and two smaller ones she had kept for Nicky and, now, Violet.

Violet was practically bouncing with excitement when Lilia handed her the smallest can, painted a cheerful yellow with a sun on its side. She grabbed it with both hands, wobbling slightly under its weight.

“Careful, baby girl,” Rio warned, steadying her.

Meanwhile, Lilia crouched beside Nicky, pointing to a cluster of hydrangeas. “See these? You want to water near the roots, not the blossoms. That way the plant drinks what it needs and doesn’t burn.”

Nicky nodded gravely, like a soldieer receiving his orders. He crouched too, carefully tilting his watering can until a gentle stream flowed exactly where his grandmother had shown him. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” Lilia praised warmly.

Rio’s eyes softened as she watched them—her mother and her son in the garden together, heads bent close in shared focus. There was something deeply grounding about it, like watching generations knit together with the soil itself.

Beside her, Agatha gave her a little nudge. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The sentimental one,” Agatha teased, but her voice was fond. “The ‘I’m about to write poetry about gardening’ look.”

Rio bumped her shoulder playfully. “Maybe I will. Don’t underestimate the metaphorical power of watering flowers.”

While they bantered, Violet had decided to take matters into her own hands—or rather, all over herself. She lifted her tiny can with great effort, aimed with all the precision of a toddler, and promptly poured the entire contents straight down the front of her costume.

There was a stunned beat of silence, followed by Violet’s squeal of laughter as cold water soaked her shirt and ran down her chubby legs. She clapped her wet hands together, absolutely delighted with herself.

“Oh no,” Rio gasped, though she was laughing too hard to sound truly distressed.

“She’s—” Agatha started, covering her mouth as her shoulders shook, “—watering herself.”

Lilia chuckled, shaking her head as she reached for the hose to refill the can. “Maybe she’s trying to grow.”

“Well, she is named after a flower,” Rio pointed out between fits of laughter. “Clearly, she takes that very seriously.”

Nicky, who had been dutifully following directions to the letter, paused to gape at his sister. “Violet, you’re not a plant!”

“Me flowe!” Violet declared proudly, patting her wet chest.

The adults roared with laughter at her bold proclamation.

“I mean, technically she’s right,” Rio admitted, trying to compose herself. “She is Violet.”

Agatha bent down, brushing a strand of damp hair off her daughter’s forehead. “Well, my little flower, let’s try watering the garden instead of your costume.”

But Violet was far too pleased with her discovery to care. Every time Lilia or Rio refilled her can, she would toddle a few steps, giggle, and then somehow end up spilling more water on herself than on the soil. Soon she was drenched from head to toe, her bumblebee costume clinging to her like a sponge.

“Honestly,” Rio said, laughing helplessly, “if she doesn’t grow an extra inch overnight, I’ll be disappointed.”

“Or sprout petals,” Agatha added with a smile.

Even Nicky cracked a grin, though he shook his head in disbelief. “She’s so weird.”

“Creative,” Rio corrected, beaming at her daughter as Violet stomped in a puddle she had accidentally created. “She’s just… exploring new possibilities.”

By the time they were done, the hydrangeas, roses, and lavender were thoroughly quenched, and so was Violet. Her curls stuck to her forehead, and her giggles hadn’t stopped since the first splash. The grown-ups gathered on the porch steps to watch as the kids finished their “work”—Nicky methodical and precise, Violet soaked and triumphant.

Agatha slipped an arm around Rio’s waist, her lips brushing her temple. “Well,” she murmured, “if your mother’s flowers thrive half as much as our children, I’d say her garden is in excellent shape.”

Rio leaned into her, her eyes shining as she looked from her family to the blooms. “I think you’re right.”

Violet had finally stopped stomping in puddles and was toddling in circles, still squealing every so often like she hadn’t quite gotten over the thrill of soaking herself.

Nicky, who had been dutiful and serious about watering, was now bouncing on the balls of his feet, his energy rising again. His gaze locked on his little sister, who was wobbling with her bumblebee wings flapping helplessly behind her. A mischievous grin spread across his face.

“Viooollet,” he called in a playful growl, crouching low as if he were a lion about to pounce.

The toddler froze mid-step, her eyes going wide. She knew that tone. Her mouth opened in a tiny O before she shrieked with laughter and took off, her short legs pumping as fast as they could carry her.

Nicky darted after her, his sneakers pounding on the grass. “I’m gonna get you, Bee-Bee!”

Violet’s delighted squeals echoed through the garden as she zigzagged clumsily, her arms flailing with the effort of keeping her balance. The chase was pure chaos: Nicky weaving around the rose bushes with expert precision, Violet running with all the coordination of a wobbly duckling. She didn’t stand a chance, but she was determined.

“Help!” she shrieked, and then barreled full-speed into Agatha’s legs.

Agatha, who had been standing with her arms folded and a smirk on her face, looked down at the tiny wet bundle clinging desperately to her knees. “Oh, you need rescuing, do you?”

Violet nodded frantically, still giggling so hard she hiccupped.

“Well then,” Agatha said with exaggerated solemnity, bending down and scooping her daughter up, “into the air you go!”

She lifted Violet high above her head and spun in a wide circle. The little girl’s laughter exploded into the air, ringing like silver bells. Her chubby hands clapped together as she kicked her legs in sheer joy, the bumblebee wings fluttering behind her as though she might really take off.

“Mowe! Mowe!” Violet demanded breathlessly, her curls bouncing with every spin.

Agatha obliged, twirling her faster this time until both of them were dizzy. She stopped only when Violet slumped against her shoulder in a fit of laughter, burying her face into her mother’s neck, still giggling uncontrollably.

On the grass, Nicky crossed his arms and huffed. “Hey! That’s not fair! She gets special treatment!”

Rio, who had been leaning against the garden fence with a smirk, raised an eyebrow. “Special treatment? What about you?”

Before Nicky could answer, she swooped down, hooked her arms under his, and with surprising strength, swung him up onto her back like he was still a little boy. “What about piggyback treatment?”

“Whoa!” Nicky shouted, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she bolted across the lawn with him bouncing on her back. He couldn’t stop laughing, his legs kicking in excitement.

“Hold on tight!” Rio called, racing around in wide circles like a wild horse while Nicky whooped at the top of his lungs.

Agatha watched, her lips quirking into that rare, soft smile reserved only for her family. “My goodness,” she said, shaking her head, “I married a child.”

“Correction!” Rio shouted mid-gallop. “You married the fun parent!”

Violet leaned away from Agatha’s shoulder just in time to watch her brother and mother zip past them. “Mama fast!” she squealed, bouncing in Agatha’s arms and pointing.

“Yes, she is,” Agatha said dryly, though her eyes danced. “Reckless, but fast.”

“Hey, reckless is fun!” Rio countered, finally slowing to a trot and then collapsing onto the grass with Nicky still clinging to her back. The boy rolled off, both of them wheezing from laughter.

Lilia, who had been sitting on the porch steps with a mug of tea, watched the entire spectacle with tears of joy glistening in her eyes. Her laughter had been constant, soft at first and then booming as she clutched her stomach.

“You’re all ridiculous,” she said through her laughter, “absolutely ridiculous.”

“And happy,” Rio added from where she lay sprawled in the grass, her chest still heaving.

“Very happy,” Agatha agreed, pressing a kiss to Violet’s forehead before lowering her gently onto the grass beside her brother.

The siblings immediately rolled toward each other, Nicky tickling Violet’s tummy until she shrieked again, her bumblebee wings flapping like mad.

Lilia just sat back and took it all in—their laughter, their closeness, the sunlit chaos that only family could bring. Her heart felt so full she thought it might burst. All those years of worry for her daughter, of hoping she’d find her place and her people, had led to this moment. This messy, beautiful garden full of love.

And she couldn’t imagine anything better.

The golden afternoon slowly mellowed into the softer light of evening, shadows stretching long across the garden. The laughter had quieted to a low hum as everyone caught their breath, but the day was still brimming with warmth and ease. Eventually, though, it was time to start thinking about heading home. Agatha glanced at her watch with a small sigh, the practical part of her tugging her back into routine.

“All right, my loves,” she said gently, standing and brushing the grass from her pants, “we should think about getting back. It’s getting late, and someone has school tomorrow.”

She tilted her head meaningfully at Nicky, who immediately. “Nooo, Mama!” he groaned, flopping back onto the grass. “I want to stay here! Please, can I sleep over at Grandma’s tonight? Please?” His big blue eyes widened, already deploying his most powerful weapon—puppy-dog pleading.

Before Agatha could respond, Violet, sitting beside her brother and gnawing on her own fingers, suddenly perked up as if she understood. “Stay! Stay!” she echoed, then scrambled to her feet with the determination of a soldier. She toddled off into the house with surprising speed, her little bumblebee wings bobbing furiously behind her.

“Where’s she going?” Rio asked, though the laughter in her voice made it clear she already had a guess.

The answer came quickly: Violet returned with her toy bag, dragging it behind her across the floor with a loud scrape. She plopped it down proudly in front of Lilia and began cramming things into it—half her stuffed dragon, a random block, one of Nicky’s socks, and a hairbrush she’d pilfered from who knows where.

She looked up with utter seriousness, chocolate still faintly smeared around her mouth from earlier. “Weady!”

Rio and Agatha both burst into laughter, and Nicky, of course, pounced on the opportunity. “See? Even Vivi wants to stay! We’re both ready, Mama. Please, please, pleeease?” He stretched out the word as if sheer length could bend his mother’s resolve.

Agatha raised one elegant eyebrow, unimpressed but secretly charmed. “Ready?” she repeated, glancing at Violet’s bag. “She packed a headband and a block.”

“Essential travel items,” Rio said, still chuckling. She crouched beside her daughter and kissed the top of her curly head. “Sweetheart, we can’t stay tonight. Tomorrow’s a school and daycare day, and you and Nicky both need a good night’s sleep in your own beds.”

“But—” Nicky started, until Rio gave him a knowing look that silenced his protest.

“Tell you what,” she said instead, smoothing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “We’ll plan a proper sleepover at Grandma’s very soon. On a weekend, when you don’t have school and we can all stay the night. How about that?”

Nicky’s face brightened a little, though he still tried to pout for dignity’s sake. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Rio said solemnly, holding out her pinky.

He grinned and hooked his pinky around hers, satisfied. Violet clapped her hands, unaware of the details but delighted by the excitement.

With that, the reluctant packing began. Rio gathered Violet’s abandoned toy bag, now bursting with nonsense items, and tried to put half of it back while Violet whined, “Mine! Mine!” Agatha coaxed her into releasing at least the hairbrush with the skill of a diplomat, while Nicky stomped around muttering about the unfairness of school nights.

Lilia watched them all with a fond smile, helping to tidy without really interfering. “I’ll hold you to that sleepover,” she teased, giving Nicky a kiss on the top of his head. “And you, little bee,” she added, tapping Violet’s nose, “can pack something a little more useful next time.”

Finally, after jackets were tugged on and shoes wrangled onto small feet, they made their way to the door. The reluctance in the air was thick—Nicky dragging his feet, Violet clinging to her toy bag, Rio and Agatha trying not to laugh at how dramatic their children could be.

Lilia crouched first to Nicky’s level, cupping his cheek. “My sweet boy,” she said, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see you soon, all right? And don’t forget—you owe me a game of chess next time.”

“I won’t forget, Grandma,” Nicky said, hugging her fiercely around the neck.

Then it was Violet’s turn. Lilia scooped her up with surprising ease for her age and pressed noisy kisses all over her chubby cheeks until the little girl squealed. “And you, little bee,” Lilia teased, brushing her finger under Violet’s chin, “I expect a full parade in this costume when you come back for your sleepover.”

“Bye-bye!” Violet babbled, flapping her tiny wings proudly.

Lilia kissed her again and passed her back to Rio, who was laughing softly. She squeezed her hand before leaning in to kiss her cheek warmly. “Take care of yourself, sweet girl,” she said, her tone soft but full of meaning.

Finally, she hugged Agatha tightly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Drive safe, Agatha. And thank you for bringing them to me today—it was a beautiful day.”

“It really was,” Rio murmured from the side, hugging her back again despite one arm being full of little girl.

With everyone kissed and hugged properly, they finally made their way to the car. Violet waved both hands wildly from Rio’s arms, still calling, “Bye-bye, Gama!” while Nicky turned back one last time to blow her a kiss.

Rio strapped Violet into her car seat and clipping it back in place. Agatha checked on Nicky, who was already buckled in with a dramatic sigh, and then climbed into the driver’s seat.

As the car pulled away, the house grew smaller in the rearview mirror, glowing warm against the fading evening. Inside, Lilia stood at the window, her hand raised in farewell, her smile soft with love.

The ride home was quieter than the day had been, filled with the content hush of a family tired in the best way. Violet babbled sleepily to herself, still clutching the toy bunny that usually stayed at Lilia’s house but that she’d managed to keep from being unpacked. Nicky leaned against the window, half-dozing, still smiling faintly as though dreaming of the promised sleepover.

And just like that, their beautiful day came to a close.

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Chapter Text

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Saturday mornings in their house always held a kind of quiet anticipation, but this one felt different. It was Violet’s first ballet class—her very first, and though it was only the toddler program, the milestone had wrapped itself tightly around Rio’s heart.

The morning sunlight sliped through the curtains of Agatha and Rio’s bedroom, turning the air golden, and Rio sat on the edge of the bed with Violet perched in front of her. The little girl squirmed with excitement, her curls bouncing every time she moved her head too quickly. She kept chanting, “Bawet! Bawet!” as if the word itself was a spell she’d been waiting to cast.

Rio had worried at first—maybe two years old was too early, maybe it would overwhelm her. But every Saturday for the past year, Violet had been dragged along to Nicky’s classes, sitting beside Agatha with rapt attention, her tiny body swaying to the piano music, her feet tapping clumsily against the floor. She even tried to copy Nicky’s pliés and jumps in the living room, her wobbly balance ending in claps and laughter. The decision had come slowly, but finally: she was ready.

Now, Violet’s purple leotard lay across Rio’s lap, brand-new and impossibly small. Rio had choosen it herself, soft cotton with just the faintest shimmer to the fabric and a little attached skirt, because if her baby was going to dance, she would do it in style. “Okay, lovebug,” Rio said softly, easing Violet’s legs into the leotard’s legholes. “Arms up like the sun!”

Violet threw her arms above her head, fingers splayed, then giggled when Rio tickled her sides while sliding the fabric into place. “Sun!” she chirped back, proud of herself.

“That’s right,” Rio said, brushing a stray curl out of her face. “My little moonbeam.”

Once the leotard was on, Violet wriggled around, admiring herself, patting her tummy through the snug purple fabric. She looked so pleased that Rio had to pause just to take it in—her baby, her little girl, no longer a tiny baby at all, sitting there looking so ready for the world.

Next came the tights. Rio had decided, for a first class, that putting them over the leotard might be easier, instead of under. She had witnessed enough toddler meltdowns over her years of teaching to know that. Rio held them up, shaking them out. “Okay, next step—feet go in here.”

But Violet’s enthusiasm turned suddenly fierce. She shook her head vigorously, curls flying, and stomped her foot on the bed. “No!”

Rio blinked, amused. “No tights?”

“No tights!” Violet repeated, crossing her tiny arms with all the determination of a toddler who had decided her opinion was law.

“Oh, lovebug,” Rio tried again, holding the tights closer. “They’ll keep your legs nice and warm. See? Nice and stretchy.”

“No tights!” Violet insisted again, this time kicking them out of Rio’s hands and giggling at her own defiance.

Rio put a hand over her mouth, suppressing her laugh. She knew this stubborn streak all too well—it was a mix of Agatha’s regal dignity and her own fiery spark, rolled into a pint-sized girl who already thought she ruled the universe.

“All right, all right,” Rio conceded, tossing the tights back onto the dresser. Toddlers didn’t really need tights anyway. “No tights. You win. The tights have been banished.” She leaned closer, pressing a kiss to Violet’s cheek. “You are officially the boss.”

“Boss!” Violet echoed, beaming.

“Mm-hmm, the boss of ballet,” Rio said, shaking her head with fond exasperation. “Poor Miss Geraldine won’t know what hit her.”

She pulled out the tiny ballet slippers next, pale pink with delicate elastics across the top. Just holding them made Rio’s chest tighten—she remembered slipping on her first pair when she had been a little older than Violet, when her second foster family had offered to enroll her with their daughter, before they had to move away because the dad had been laid off. She remembered how the smell of new leather had filled her nose, how impossibly important it had felt. She slid them gently onto Violet’s chubby little feet, tightening the drawstrings just enough to keep them snug.

“There,” Rio whispered, brushing her fingers across them. “Perfect. My tiny ballerina.”

Violet looked down, wiggling her toes in the slippers, then clapped her hands together. “Bawet!”

“Yes, sweetheart, ballet,” Rio echoed, her throat tightening. She leaned back to look at her daughter fully—her purple leotard, her bare legs, her ballet slippers—and for a moment, Rio felt her eyes sting.

She hadn’t expected this wave of emotion, not really. She thought she’d be excited, maybe proud, but this? Watching Violet sit there, all brightness and certainty, felt like watching time fold in on itself. She could see herself in that small body—the little girl who once twirled endlessly in her room, dreaming of stages and lights and music—and she could see the future too, the possibility of what Violet might grow into. A dancer, or maybe not. Maybe something else entirely. But right now, right here, she was her baby, ready to take her very first step into the world of ballet.

Rio gathered Violet up into her arms, hugging her tightly. “Do you know how proud I am of you, baby girl?” she murmured against her hair.

Violet didn’t understand the words, not really. But she hugged her mother’s neck with fierce little arms and whispered, “Mama,” in that sweet, certain tone of hers.

Rio closed her eyes, savoring it, holding her close.

From downstairs came the sound of Nicky’s laughter and Agatha’s lower, amused voice—some game, no doubt, that had escalated into chaos. Rio smiled against Violet’s curls, still clinging to the moment, not ready to let it go just yet.

They would head down soon enough, show Agatha and Nicky the little ballerina all ready for her first class. But for now, Rio stayed where she was, heart full, marveling at the sight of her daughter—her tiny ballerina, the newest co-star of Saturday mornings.

But Violet could hardly contain herself once her slippers were tied and her leotard smoothed into place. She wriggled out of Rio’s arms and toddled straight to the bedroom door, tugging insistently at the handle with her little hands. “Down! Down! Mama! Nicky!” she demanded, bouncing on her toes like the word itself might make the door open faster.

Rio laughed, rising from the bed. “Oh, so now you need to make an entrance, hm?” she teased, smoothing her daughter’s curls one last time. Violet squealed and tugged harder, and Rio gave in with a fond sigh. “All right, superstar, let’s go show them.”

Hand in hand, the two descended the stairs. Rio took them slowly, savoring the weight of the moment—her little ballerina taking her first parade. Violet clutched the banister with her free hand, her pink slippers tapping softly against each step, and by the time they reached the bottom, her excitement was bubbling over into squeaks and little hops.

Agatha and Nicky were still in the living room. A board game lay forgotten on the rug, Nicky sprawled on his stomach while Agatha sat cross-legged behind him, her long hair draped over one shoulder as she leaned down to watch him make his next move. They both looked up at the sound of Violet’s delighted, “Mama! Nicky! Wook!”

And just like that, Rio let go of Violet’s hand. The little girl marched into the center of the room, suddenly shy but determined, her cheeks pink with bashful pride. She tugged at the hem of her purple leotard and did a tiny spin that was more of a wobble, her slippers sliding against the floor. “Bawet,” she announced in her triumphant toddler way.

Nicky’s eyes went wide. He scrambled to his knees and let out a cheer so loud it nearly toppled her. “Vivi! You look like a real ballerina!” He clapped wildly, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, Mama, look at her! Look at her!”

Rio leaned against the doorway, her heart melting, watching the scene unfold.

Agatha rose slowly, her gaze fixed on her little girl in the middle of the room. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t even speak. Her throat tightened, eyes blurring just a little as Violet toddled another step forward and lifted her chin proudly, like she knew she was being admired.

“My princess,” Agatha whispered, the words slipping out without thought. She pressed a hand to her chest, blinking back the sting in her eyes. She already had her queen—Rio, wild and radiant and hers—and now here was her princess, radiant in her own right, her little star in purple satin.

Violet noticed her mother’s expression and hesitated, almost bashful now under the weight of it. She ducked her head and peeked at Agatha through her curls. “Mama,” she said softly, almost as if she were checking for approval.

Agatha crossed the room in three strides, lowering herself gracefully to Violet’s level. “Oh, my darling,” she said, her voice thick with warmth. She cupped her daughter’s cheek, smiling even as her eyes shimmered. “You are perfect.”

Violet’s little face lit up, and she threw her arms around Agatha’s neck, nearly knocking her off balance. “Mama!” she squealed into her shoulder.

Agatha laughed, holding her close, spinning her once just to hear that bubbling giggle. “My ballerina princess,” she murmured against her curls. “The most beautiful girl in the world.”

Behind them, Nicky was practically vibrating with excitement. He bounced up and down on the rug, then darted over to Rio. “Mom, did you see her? Did you see how she twirled?”

Rio grinned, brushing a hand through his hair. “I did. She’s got your flair for performance, kiddo.”

“She’s so small but she looks so ready!” Nicky insisted, his hands waving dramatically as if words alone weren’t enough. “She’s gonna be amazing, I just know it.”

Rio chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Careful, or she’ll start thinking she’s already the star of the company.”

“She is, just like me!” Nicky declared, then turned back toward his sister. “Vivi, you’re the star! The star of ballet!”

Violet, still in Agatha’s arms, turned her face against her mother’s neck and giggled, shy but glowing from all the praise.

Rio crossed the room, sliding an arm around Agatha’s waist. Together, they looked down at the little girl nestled against her mama’s shoulder, still giggling, her slippered feet swinging.

Agatha’s eyes softened as she glanced at Rio. “A queen and a princess,” she said quietly, almost to herself, her heart too full to keep it inside.

Rio leaned closer, resting her forehead against her wife’s temple. “And a prince, too,” she added, looking fondly at Nicky, who had gone back to pretending the rug was a stage for his sister to perform on.

Agatha smiled at that, her arm tightening around Rio’s waist. “Yes,” she agreed. “Our kingdom is complete.”

Agatha still had Violet on her hip, her tiny purple leotard gleaming like a jewel in the morning light that filtered through the curtains. The toddler was still giggling from all the excitement, though her curls—soft, unruly, and far too much like Rio’s for Agatha to control—were already tumbling into her eyes.

“Hmm,” Agatha murmured thoughtfully, brushing a wayward curl off Violet’s forehead. “We can’t have a ballerina who can’t see her own feet, now can we?”

Violet blinked up at her, unbothered. “Feet!” she announced proudly, pointing down at her slippers.

“Yes, darling, your feet,” Agatha chuckled. “But you’ll be tripping over them if we don’t fix this hair.”

Rio smirked knowingly, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “Good luck with that, love. You’re about to meet the iron will of a two-year-old.”

Agatha arched a brow in challenge. “I’ve tamed fiercer wills than this one.”

Nicky snorted from the rug, where he was still half on his knees. “No way, Mama. Vivi’s like… like a baby dragon when she doesn’t want something.” He puffed out his cheeks and made a little growling noise, complete with his hands curled into claws.

“Raaahhh!” Violet squealed, copying her brother instantly. She bared her tiny teeth in an exaggerated growl, curls flying into her mouth as she shook her head.

Rio laughed so hard she had to cover her face. “See? Baby dragon.”

Agtha sighed with exaggerated patience and set Violet down on the ottoman, fishing a pair of tiny pink hair ties from a bowl on the lowest bookshelf. “All right, little dragon, we’re going to try pigtails. Just two. They’ll keep your hair out of your eyes.”

But the moment she tried to gather the curls on one side, Violet squirmed and shook her head violently, making an indignant noise. “No! No piggies!” she squealed, swatting lightly at her mother’s hand.

“They’re not piggies, sweetheart,” Agatha reasoned. “They’re… little princess ponytails.”

“No!” Violet shouted again, tossing her curls around dramatically.

Rio leaned in, whispering to Nicky, “Told you.”

Agatha gave her wife a sharp side-eye before straightening her posture like she was preparing for battle. “Fine. I’ll just need reinforcements.”

“Me!” Nicky volunteered immediately, jumping up like a soldier called to duty. “What do I do?”

“Distract her,” Agatha said, gathering another attempt at a handful of curls. “Keep her still.”

Nicky crouched in front of his little sister and began making ridiculous faces—crossing his eyes, puffing out his cheeks, sticking out his tongue. Violet burst into squeaky giggles, but crucially, she stopped jerking away.

“Good, keep going,” Agatha murmured, twisting the first section into a tiny elastic. It ended up higher than she’d intended, but it held.

“Blehh!” Nicky continued, sticking his fingers in his mouth and pulling his cheeks out wide. Violet howled with laughter, stomping her feet.

Rio crouched down too, joining the fun. She pulled her face into the most exaggerated fish expression, cheeks sucked in, lips puckered, her eyes crossed dramatically. “Blub blub blub!” she said in a silly voice.

Violet shrieked, covering her eyes with her tiny hands as she giggled, but crucially—she stayed still enough for Agatha to grab the other side of her curls.

“There we go,” Agatha muttered, expertly slipping the second elastic into place. When she let go, she realized with a small sigh that the pigtails were… not symmetrical. One was perched high, jaunty and proud, while the other drooped a little lower, like it had already been through half a day’s play.

But Violet didn’t care. She gripped one pigtail in each hand , squealing, “Piggies!” as if it had been her idea all along.

Rio was nearly doubled over with laughter. “Oh, love… they’re crooked.”

Agatha drew herself up, smoothing her cardigan. “They’re whimsical,” she corrected with dignity. “I work better with a still model. She was way too wriggly for me to create my usual masterpieces.”

Nicky ran to fetch the little mirror from the hallway table and held it up in front of Violet. “Look, Vivi! You’ve got pigtails!”

Violet gasped at her reflection, eyes going wide, then she tilted her head left, then right. She lifted her little hands and patted each pigtail proudly. “Me!” she declared with certainty.

“That’s right,” Rio said, pulling her daughter into her arms and kissing her temple. “That’s you, baby ballerina.” She softened, her laughter melting into tenderness as she looked at her daughter’s glowing face. “You’re perfect. Crooked piggies and all.”

Agatha, though she tried to keep her composure, felt her chest tighten with emotion at the sight of her two loves—her queen and her princess—huddled together in pure joy. Nicky—the little prince—climbed into the hug too, wedging himself between them, his grin splitting his face.

He suddenly straightened, his face lighting up with an idea. He had already changed into his own little black ballet outfit since his own class would be just after Violet’s, his white shirt tucked neatly in, slippers on his feet. His hair had been combed earlier by Agatha—though a stubborn cowlick stood up at the back no matter what she tried.

“Wait!” he cried dramatically, spinning toward the staircase. “She can’t go without Yellow Dragon!”

Violet’s little head popped up immediately, eyes wide. “Dwagon?” she repeated, clutching at the air with both hands.

Agatha tilted her head, folding her arms with amusement. “Nicky… you know the rules. Dragons stay at home. Especially the big yellow one. He might get lost, just like Blue Dragon that one time.”

“But Mama,” Nicky countered, looking at Rio then because he knew she sometimes softened quicker. “It’s her first class! She needs him! She’ll be nervous without him.”

“Me no boo,” Violet insisted stubbornly, though her wide eyes betrayed how much she wanted her dragon. “Dwagon!”

Nicky crossed his arms and looked at his mothers with all the seriousness of a junior negotiator. “Listen. I’ll be responsible. I’ll sit on the bench with Yellow Dragon, and we’ll watch politely. He won’t run around or make noise. I promise.”

Rio had to bite back a grin at the way he said it, as if Yellow Dragon were an unruly child instead of a stuffed toy. Agatha pressed her lips together, torn between her instinct to enforce the rule and the ridiculous sweetness of her son’s determination.

“Watch politely?” Agatha repeated, arching a brow.

“Yes,” Nicky nodded firmly. “Like an audience. Ballet always has an audience. Violet’s first class needs one, too. It’s very important.” He turned to his sister, crouching down so he was eye level with her. “Right, Vivi? Yellow Dragon will clap for you.”

Violet nodded vigorously, her little curls bouncing. “Dwagon clap!” she echoed, clapping her own hands as if demonstrating.

Rio sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up. “Well, love,” she said, glancing at Agatha, “it seems we’ve been outvoted by a dragon and two very persuasive children.”

Agatha shook her head. “Just this once. Because it’s Violet’s first class.” She bent down to Nicky’s level, fixing him with her most serious look. “But Nicky, you are responsible for Yellow Dragon. If he gets left behind or dropped, it’s on you. Understand?”

“Yes, Mama,” Nicky said solemnly, as though he had just been entrusted with guarding a crown jewel.

Within seconds, he had bounded up the stairs, his little slippers pattering against the wood, and returned triumphantly with Yellow Dragon clutched in his arms. The toy was oversized, bright yellow, and had clearly been loved within an inch of its life. One wing drooped, and its snout bore the faint smudge of jam from some forgotten breakfast. But in Violet’s eyes, it was perfect.

“Dwagon!” she squealed, arms outstretched. Nicky carefully handed it over, watching with big-brother protectiveness as she hugged it tight to her chest.

“See?” Nicky said with satisfaction. “Now she’s ready.”

Rio leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “You’re a good brother, you know that?”

He puffed out his chest, beaming. “I know.”

Agatha chuckled, shaking her head as she fetched the ballet bags from the hallway. “All right, then. Everyone has their slippers? Yellow Dragon secured? Pigtails in place? Let’s move out before we’re late.”

Violet clutched her dragon with both arms as if afraid someone might change their minds. Her little legs toddled toward the door, slippers squeaking slightly against the floorboards. Rio followed close behind, carrying Violet’s tiny backpack with her water bottle tucked inside.

Nicky marched importantly at Agatha’s side, announcing, “I’ll make sure Dragon stays on the bench the whole time. He’ll be the best audience. Better than me, even.”

“Impossible,” Agatha teased, brushing her hand over his hair as they reached the door. “No one could be better than you.”

The family spilled out onto the porch, the morning sun catching Violet’s purple leotard and making it shine. She looked down at her dragon, then back up at her moms, a huge proud smile on her face as if to say she was ready.

Rio locked the door behind them, glancing once at her wife. Agatha met her eyes with a soft smile, and in that brief look they shared the same thought: their babies were growing up far too fast.

But today wasn’t for being sentimental—it was for firsts. For Violet’s first class, for Nicky stepping into the role of proud older ballet brother, and yes, even for Yellow Dragon’s first official ballet outing.

“Okay, team,” Rio said brightly, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Let’s get to ballet.”

“Bawet!” Violet echoed, hugging Yellow Dragon tight.

And with that, the four of them set off down the steps, their little ballerina clutching her dragon as if he were the bravest partner she could ever hope for.

The dance center smelled faintly of wood polish and the sweet tang of rosin, familiar and comforting to Rio the moment she stepped inside with Violet balanced on her hip. It was a building she knew like the back of her hand—she had spent countless hours here teaching, rehearsing, stretching on the floors, even sneaking little moments of breath when the days had been too long or the kids too demanding. But today, her heart beat differently in her chest. Today, she was not just a teacher or a dancer—she was a mother bringing her baby to her very first ballet class.

Nicky, bouncing excitedly beside Agatha, clutched Yellow Dragon tightly in his hand, determined not to let him fall. The dragon’s floppy wing dragged against the floor as they walked, but Nicky lifted it with care, whispering something to Violet’s stuffed friend about how important this day was and how he couldn’t wait to tell Blue Dragon everything when they got home. Agatha, meanwhile, carried both children’s ballet bags in one hand, her elegance never dimmed even when she was juggling practicalities.

“Bench!” Nicky cried as soon as they entered the main studio hallway. He spotted the long line of benches along the mirrored wall outside the toddler classroom, where parents were already settling in. “Mama, let’s sit there so Yellow Dragon can see everything.”

Agatha smiled indulgently, leading him toward an empty spot. “All right, commander. You and Vivi’s dragon may take the best seats in the house.”

He hopped up onto the bench, setting Yellow Dragon carefully beside him, then adjusted the stuffed animal so it “faced” the large studio window. “See? Perfect. He can see Vivi when she dances.”

Violet, catching sight of her brother and dragon getting comfortable, squirmed in Rio’s arms. “Dwagon!” she called, reaching out toward the bench as if she couldn’t bear to be separated.

“You’ll see him in a minute, sweet pea,” Rio murmured, kissing her daughter’s cheek before walking toward the open studio door. Inside, a handful of toddlers were already gathering, little bundles of energy in pastel leotards and too-big slippers. Some clung to their parents, others twirled in chaotic bursts of excitement. The air was buzzing with tiny giggles and high-pitched chatter.

“Rio!”

The familiar voice drew her attention to the center of the room. Miss Geraldine, the lead teacher for the toddler class, stood with her usual welcoming smile. Her pink-streaked hair was swept back neatly into a bun, and her posture was as laid-back as ever. She had been teaching at the dance center for years, and she had been one of the first to welcome Rio onto the teaching staff when she had still been a university student.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite teacher moonlighting as a dance mom,” Geraldine teased warmly as she approached. She crouched down a little to greet Violet, who was now hiding her face shyly against Rio’s shoulder. “And this must be the new ballerina I’ve been hearing about. Look at those pigtails! She’s already stealing the show.”

Violet peeked out just enough to give a bashful smile before burrowing back into her mother’s neck.

Rio laughed softly, rubbing her daughter’s back. “This is Violet. She’s been… very excited. Mostly about the slippers.”

Geraldine’s eyes twinkled, then softened with recognition. “You know, we’re actually just about to start warming up. Would you like to stay in here with us? You don’t usually teach this age group, but—” she glanced around at the small tornado of toddlers already scattering in various directions—“an extra set of hands is always welcome. And what better way to spend her first class than with Mommy in the room?”

Rio’s heart swelled so suddenly it almost hurt. She hadn’t expected to be anything more than a parent on the sidelines today, watching through the window with her heart in her throat. The idea of being right here, guiding Violet through her very first plié and seeing her little face up close as she discovered the joy of movement, was overwhelming in the best possible way.

“I’d love to,” Rio said at once, her voice thick with emotion. “If you’re sure it’s not an intrusion.”

“Of course not,” Geraldine said, patting her arm. “You’re family here. Besides, you’ve wrangled plenty of six-year-olds. These little ones aren’t so different—just smaller and faster.”

Rio laughed, nodding. “Smaller, faster, and occasionally sticky.” She kissed the top of Violet’s head before gently setting her down on the floor. Her daughter wobbled for a moment on her pink slippers before clutching her mother’s hand tightly, eyes wide as she surveyed the room.

From the bench outside, Nicky pressed his face eagerly to the window, pointing Violet out to Yellow Dragon. “There she is! Look, Dragon, she’s on the floor now! She’s gonna dance!”

Agatha rested a hand on her son’s back, smiling softly as she watched Rio bend to encourage Violet. The sight of her wife kneeling in that bright studio light, guiding their tiny girl toward her very first ballet steps, tugged at her heart in ways she couldn’t put into words.

Rio crouched down, smoothing Violet’s leotard and brushing a curl from her forehead. “Ready, Vivi? You’re going to have so much fun. And guess what? Mommy gets to help today.”

Violet’s eyes widened, her mouth opening in a delighted little gasp. “Mama stay?”

“Yes, my love,” Rio whispered, kissing her cheek. “Mommy’s staying.”

Violet squealed, clapping her hands together. She gave one last glance toward the bench, spotting her Mama and her brother and stuffed guardian, and then turned back to the studio with her mother at her side—ready to begin.

The toddler class began with Miss Geraldine clapping her hands together gently to gather everyone in a loose semicircle. A handful of the little ones froze, others kept bouncing around as if the idea of stillness was impossible, and a few immediately ran to hide behind their parents’ legs. Violet gripped Rio’s hand tightly, her dark eyes scanning the room as if she wasn’t quite sure whether to stay or retreat.

Rio crouched beside her, lowering her voice so only Violet could hear. “It’s okay, Vivi. Just like at home when you dance to the music with Nicky. Look, all the friends are here too.”

Violet looked back toward the window where Nicky was plastered against the glass, waving furiously with one hand while keeping the other wrapped around Yellow Dragon’s paw. “Go Vivi! You can do it!” he shouted, his voice carrying clearly into the studio.

That earned a ripple of laughter from some of the parents, and even Miss Geraldine chuckled. Violet, however, perked up, her little shoulders straightening. She clapped her hands once in mimicry and nodded as if giving herself courage.

“Stretching time,” Miss Geraldine announced, lowering herself gracefully onto the floor and demonstrating how to stretch legs out in front. “We’re going to make our legs into big butterfly wings and flap them, flap-flap-flap!”

Rio guided Violet down beside her, gently moving her daughter’s legs into position. “Butterflies, Vivi. You can do that.”

Violet frowned in concentration, wiggling her knees up and down in an uneven rhythm. It wasn’t quite butterfly wings—it was closer to the awkward flapping of a duck—but Rio’s heart swelled anyway. She leaned in and kissed the top of Violet’s head.

From the bench, Nicky clapped loudly. “Yay, butterfly! That’s my sister!”

Agatha glanced sideways at him, amusement softening her eyes. “She’s very good, isn’t she?”

“The best butterfly,” Nicky said with complete certainty, nudging Yellow Dragon so he was “watching properly.” “Dragon agrees.”

Inside the studio, Rio’s teacher instincts were already showing. She kept one hand on Violet for reassurance but noticed a little boy across the circle struggling to figure out the stretch, twisting his body around instead of bending forward. Without thinking, Rio leaned over with a kind smile. “That’s very good, sweetie. Let’s try turning your legs like this. See? Now you’re a butterfly too.”

The boy blinked at her, then giggled when his knees started bouncing up and down the right way. His mother mouthed a grateful thank you from the sideline.

Agatha caught the exchange and felt a warmth spread through her chest. She had fallen in love with Rio in many different moments, but watching her in her element like this—balancing tenderness with authority, guiding not just their own child but every child who needed it—was especially moving.

The warmup shifted to balance games. Miss Geraldine instructed the toddlers to stand tall like trees, their arms reaching up as branches. Some toppled instantly, others stood wobbling like saplings in the wind. Rio crouched beside Violet, gently holding her hands up toward the ceiling. “Strong tree, Vivi. You’ve got roots.”

Violet squeezed her eyes shut, wobbling precariously on her little legs. Her balance was barely there, but she held on with stubborn determination. When she finally tipped to one side and fell onto her bottom, she let out a surprised squeak.

Rio clapped for her immediately. “That was wonderful! You were so strong!”

Nicky erupted in cheers from the bench. “Go, Vivi! You’re the best tree ever!” His enthusiasm was so pure and uncontained that even Miss Geraldine had to pause and laugh.

“Quite the supportive big brother,” she remarked toward Rio, who inclined her head with a proud little smile.

When the toddlers moved to walking on tiptoes like “princesses and princes,” Violet immediately tried to copy. Her little ankles wobbled terribly, her feet slapping down flat almost instantly, but she kept trying, determination etched into her tiny face. Rio, ever the teacher, placed a hand lightly under her arm to guide her, whispering encouragement.

“Look at you, so tall. That’s my girl.”

Soon, Rio found herself pulled into helping another pair of children who were unsure of how to rise onto their toes. She guided them with patient hands, her voice low and encouraging. By the time she turned back, Violet was determinedly wobbling across the room without her.

Something in Rio’s chest clenched. She pressed her hand to her heart, tears pricking at her eyes. That was her baby girl—finding her own balance, her own steps, with all the courage of a little one who just wanted to dance.

Agatha, watching through the glass, felt her throat tighten too. She blinked quickly, brushing away the moisture before Nicky could notice. Her wife, her daughter—it was too much in the best way.

Miss Geraldine caught Rio’s tearful smile and winked at her. “You know, you’re welcome to assist anytime. These little ones take to you so quickly.”

Rio laughed softly, brushing her cheeks. “Careful, or I’ll never leave.”

“You’d be doing me a favor,” Geraldine teased before clapping again to refocus the toddlers. “All right, everyone, let’s make our arms into big rainbow shapes!”

As Violet stretched her arms high and crooked, wobbling with effort, Nicky once again thundered applause. “Perfect rainbow, Vivi! Dragon says so too!”

The room erupted in giggles, and Violet, bashful but proud, beamed at her brother through the glass before turning back to copy Mommy’s rainbow arms.

The toddler class had barely found its rhythm when Violet’s attention shifted from the rainbow arms exercise to something infinitely more fascinating: the long wall of mirrors lining the studio.

She caught sight of herself—tiny in her purple leotard, curls bouncing around her face in lopsided pigtails—and froze. Her little mouth formed an “O” of surprise. Then, she lifted her hand and waved.

Her reflection waved back.

“Hi!” Violet chirped, delighted. She waved harder, bouncing up and down on her little ballet slippers. “Hi, Vivi!”

Several of the other toddlers stopped what they were doing to watch her, giggling when they realized she was saying hello to herself. One little girl copied her and waved to her own reflection, and suddenly the mirrors were full of toddlers enthusiastically greeting themselves like long-lost friends.

Miss Geraldine, very patient, clapped to bring their focus back. “All right, everyone—arms to the sky again, rainbows!”

But Violet was too enamored with her mirror-twin. She crouched down suddenly, peering closely at the reflection, as if she couldn’t quite believe the other little girl was moving the same way. Then she wiggled her fingers against the mirror’s surface, bursting into giggles when her reflection did the same.

From the bench, Agatha pressed her lips together to keep from laughing out loud, one hand covering her mouth. Nicky was doubled over beside her, holding Yellow Dragon’s paw to his chest. “She’s saying hi to herself, Mama!” he whispered excitedly. “Look, Vivi’s got a friend now—it’s Mirror Vivi!”

Rio crouched down beside her daughter, touching her back lightly. “Vivi, sweetheart, let’s join the butterflies again.”

But Violet shook her head so hard her crooked pigtails flopped. “No go.” Violet pointed insistently at the reflection. “Me wave.”

Rio sighed with a smile and kissed her daughter’s temple. “Okay, one more wave, and then back to butterflies.”

Violet solemnly waved again, then turned back to the circle of toddlers, somewhat appeased. She sat down dramatically on her bottom, stretching her legs in front of her.

But then her attention shifted again—this time to her ballet slippers. She wiggled her toes inside them and frowned.

“Too tight!” she announced loudly, plopping herself flat on her back like she was laying down to take a nap.

The proclamation made at least two of the other toddlers immediately check their own shoes, tugging at the straps curiously. Miss Geraldine gave Rio a sympathetic smile, clearly used to these tiny rebellions.

Rio leaned closer, trying not to laugh at her daughter’s theatrical sprawl. “Vivi, your shoes are fine. They’re supposed to feel snug so they don’t slip.”

“No,” Violet said firmly, rolling onto her side and tugging at the straps with determined little fingers. “No shoes.”

Before Rio could stop her, Violet managed to wriggle one shoe off and tossed it triumphantly to the side.

From the bench, Nicky gasped, scandalized. “Vivi! You can’t dance without shoes! Yellow Dragon says no-no!” He pressed Yellow Dragon’s face to the window as if the stuffed toy was scolding her too.

Violet looked up at the sound of her brother’s voice, caught sight of him through the observation window, and instantly beamed. She scrambled up onto her knees and waved grandly, like a princess in a parade. “Hi Nicky! Hi Dwagon!”

Rio buried her face in her hands for a moment, torn between laughter and exasperation. Then she collected the discarded shoe, crouched in front of Violet again, and spoke in her softest, most persuasive “teacher voice.”

“Vivi, these are special dancing shoes. They make your twirls and steps extra strong. If you don’t wear them, you’ll slip. Do you want to slip?”

Violet considered this gravely, her little brow furrowed. “No slip.”

“That’s right,” Rio nodded. “So we put them back on. Just for class. After class, you can take them off as much as you want.”

She held the slipper open, and after a long pause, Violet stuck her foot out with a sigh as dramatic as any stage actress.

Rio slid the shoe back on and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Only for class. Promise.”

Satisfied, Violet stood again and looked back toward the window. She spotted Agatha this time, sitting with her legs crossed elegantly, hands folded in her lap. “Mama! Mama, wook!” she cried, waving furiously again.

Agatha lifted her hand to wave back, tears threatening once more. The sight of her little girl—so proud, so small, in her first real leotard—was almost too much. She smiled through the moisture in her eyes and mouthed, “I see you, princess.”

Violet, catching the words even if she didn’t quite understand them, gave a satisfied little nod and then turned back to copy Miss Geraldine’s next exercise, balancing precariously on her tiptoes again.

For a while, Violet was doing beautifully—stretching her arms like butterfly wings, balancing on her toes with the best concentration a toddler could manage, and waving to her reflection whenever she remembered it was there. But halfway through class, the excitement and the newness of it all began to catch up with her.

Her little shoulders slumped, her mouth curved downward, and her bright eyes filled with the familiar cloudiness of an overstimulated child. When Miss Geraldine clapped her hands to announce the next playful exercise, Violet froze instead of joining in. Her lip wobbled. And then, without warning, she toddled straight to Rio, pressing her face into her mommy’s leg and clinging tight, her small fists grasping at the fabric of Rio’s leggings.

“No mowe,” she mumbled, voice muffled against Rio’s thigh.

Rio instantly softened, bending to scoop her daughter up. She pressed a kiss to Violet’s curls, feeling the frantic thump of her little heart against her own chest. “Oh, lovebug,” she whispered, swaying her gently in her arms. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Mommy’s here.”

Violet buried her face in Rio’s shoulder, her little body tense and quivering. She was overwhelmed—the sounds of shuffling feet, the other toddlers chattering, the music in the background, the mirrors, the parents watching. It was a lot for such a small soul.

Rio knew the signs, she had seen Nicky go through this stage too even if a bit older, though his meltdowns were always louder and messier. Violet’s were quieter but just as intense. She rocked her gently, rubbing her back in slow circles. “You don’t have to do everything,” she murmured, voice low and soothing. “Just breathe with Mommy. In and out. We can sit together. Or we can watch. You’re safe.”

From the bench, Agatha’s heart swelled. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of her wife with their daughter tucked against her chest, whispering those soft encouragements. She was proud—so incredibly proud—of the tenderness Rio carried in every movement, every word. The firecracker she had married had a flame inside her that burned bright and wild, but when it came to their children, that fire gentled into the warmest glow.

Beside her, Nicky leaned forward, watching intently. “Mama, Vivi’s sad,” he whispered, hugging Yellow Dragon tightly. Then, with sudden determination, he lifted the dragon’s paw and made it wave energetically through the window. “Look, Yellow Dragon’s cheering for you, Vivi! Don’t be sad!”

Violet peeked up from Rio’s shoulder, eyes glistening, and caught sight of her brother and the dragon. Nicky grinned and whispered loudly, “Dragon says you’re the best ballerina! And Mama too!”

That earned the tiniest giggle from Violet, muffled into Rio’s neck. Rio kissed the top of her head, grateful for the distraction her son provided. “See? Nicky and Yellow Dragon are proud. And Mama’s proud too.”

Violet clung tighter, still hesitant. The class moved on to pliés, the toddlers wobbling up and down with bent knees. Miss Geraldine smiled at Rio in silent understanding, giving her space to handle her little one.

Rio adjusted Violet on her hip and joined in the pliés herself. She dipped gracefully, holding Violet close, rocking with the gentle up-and-down rhythm of the movement. “See, lovebug? Mommy can dance with you right here,” she whispered, kissing her daughter’s temple again.

Nicky gasped, eyes wide. “Mama! Look, Mama! Mommy’s dancing with Vivi! She’s still dancing!” He pressed Yellow Dragon against the glass again, making the toy bob up and down in his version of pliés. “Dragon’s doing it too! We’re all dancing!”

Rio chuckled softly at her son’s antics and swayed her hips a little, making Violet bounce just enough to pull a small laugh out of her. That laugh was the sign Rio had been waiting for. She gently shifted Violet to the floor, crouching so they were eye to eye.

“Want to try again, princess? Just for a little bit?” she asked softly.

Violet sniffled but gave a tiny nod, her curls bouncing. She glanced toward the window where Nicky and Yellow Dragon were still cheering her on, then back at Rio. “Mowe,” she said firmly, determination flickering back into her expression.

“That’s my brave girl,” Rio whispered, squeezing her hand. She stood with her, guiding her back to the line of toddlers just in time for the next round of pliés.

This time, Violet bent her knees with exaggerated concentration, sticking her tongue out slightly. When she wobbled, Rio was right there, steadying her with a gentle hand. And when she managed to stay balanced for two whole counts, she turned toward the observation window with a triumphant smile.

“Mama! Nicky! Wook!” she shouted proudly.

Nicky clapped so loudly Agatha had to hush him, though even she couldn’t suppress a smile at the sight. Yellow Dragon, of course, waved frantically in celebration.

And just like that, Violet was back in the game—her little meltdown already fading into the background as her mommy’s soft encouragement and her family’s cheers anchored her heart again.

It was as if a switch had flipped—one moment she was clinging to Rio’s leg, and the next she was twirling across the polished floor with her arms stretched high above her head. Her little slippers squeaked faintly against the wood as she spun clumsily, her curls bouncing in her crooked pigtails.

“Wook, Mama!” she shouted toward the window, her voice proud and high-pitched. “Me twirl!”

Agatha felt her heart squeeze at the sight. Rio, crouched nearby, gave Violet a gentle clap of encouragement, her smile glowing. Nicky was practically bouncing out of his seat, shaking Yellow Dragon so hard the poor stuffed toy nearly toppled from his lap.

“She’s twirling, Mama! Vivi’s twirling!” he exclaimed, his voice full of awe, as if his sister had just performed a professional ballet solo at the Paris Opera.

Miss Geraldine, amused and perfectly in tune with toddler energy, clapped her hands. “Alright, everyone, let’s invite our parents to join us for a stretch!” she announced. “This is our family part—everyone on the mats, please!”

A collective shuffle spread through the room as parents stood from the benches, exchanging knowing smiles and sighs. Some of them were already used to these participatory moments; others looked hesitant. Agatha, sitting tall and elegant as ever, stayed rooted to her spot for a moment. Group activities had never been her thing—she was the type to observe, not to perform. She preferred the background, the shadows, where she could watch and keep her heart to herself.

But then Violet spotted her through the glass.

“Mama, come! Come, Mama!” she called, her little hand patting the empty spot on the mat beside her.

Agatha felt the corners of her mouth curve despite herself. With a quiet sigh of resignation—though there was already warmth in her eyes—she rose gracefully to her feet. “Well,” she murmured to Nicky, who grinned up at her, “I suppose I’ve been summoned.”

Nicky nodded furiously. “Go, Mama! Vivi needs you!” He hugged Yellow Dragon close and whispered to the toy, “See? Even Mama’s going to dance.”

Agatha stepped into the studio, her long skirt swishing faintly as she crossed the floor. Rio gave her a knowing smile from where she knelt beside Violet. Their eyes met briefly, the smallest spark of amusement between them—Rio knew full well how out of Agatha’s comfort zone this was.

Still, Agatha lowered herself gracefully onto the mat beside her daughter, her movements precise even in this unfamiliar role. Violet, thrilled, immediately clambered into her lap, giggling as if she had won a prize.

“Alright, everyone,” Miss Geraldine called, “reach your arms up to the sky like tall trees!”

Agatha obeyed, raising her arms elegantly overhead. Violet copied, though halfway through she leaned sideways into her mama’s chest, tipping her head back to grin up at her. “Tree, Mama!” she announced.

“Yes, darling,” Agatha replied softly, brushing a curl from her daughter’s cheek. “You’re a very beautiful tree.”

“Now stretch to the side!” the teacher encouraged.

Agatha leaned delicately, but Violet had other ideas. She toppled sideways altogether, tumbling across her mother’s lap in a fit of laughter. Agatha caught her effortlessly, chuckling under her breath.

Soon the exercise shifted to “butterflies” again, with the parents and children sitting together, feet pressed, knees bouncing. Agatha adjusted her posture, knees drawn up, and Violet scrambled forward to perch directly on her knees instead of beside her. She flapped her arms dramatically. “Fly! Mama fly!”

“You’re more like a little grasshopper,” Agatha teased, making Violet squeal.

Rio, a few mats over, was laughing outright now, watching the two of them. “You’re a natural, love,” she called teasingly, and Agatha shot her a look that was both playful and faintly exasperated.

The next exercise encouraged parents to lie back while their toddlers “climbed mountains.” Agatha arched a brow at that, but the moment she lay down, Violet scrambled gleefully onto her stomach, clambering up with all the determination of an explorer.

“Mama mountain! Me climb!” she declared, grabbing fistfuls of her mother’s blouse for balance.

Agatha actually laughed—an unguarded, warm sound that made Rio’s chest tighten with affection. She tried halfheartedly to steady Violet, but the little girl was too delighted, crawling across her torso and collapsing into giggles on her shoulder.

“Good heavens, child,” Agatha muttered, though her voice was fond, “you’re going to bruise me.”

“Mama funny,” Violet declared, hugging her neck.

On the bench, Nicky was bouncing again, whispering fiercely to Yellow Dragon, “See? Mama’s a mountain! And Vivi’s the climber! And Mama’s laughing!”

It wasn’t often that Agatha let herself be the mountain, the butterfly, or the tree. She was usually the steady observer, the one who watched from the edges, grounding everyone else with her presence. But now, with Violet crawling all over her, pressing sticky kisses against her cheek and laughing like the happiest little thing in the world, Agatha gave in completely. She held her daughter close, let her giggle and tumble, and even allowed herself to laugh along with her.

Rio’s eyes softened, her heart nearly aching from how much love she felt in that moment—for the woman who never quite believed she could belong in such ordinary joy, and for the children who pulled her into it anyway.

The final music of the toddler ballet class faded, leaving a soft hush in the studio. Miss Geraldine clapped her hands gently, and the little ones, wobbly and exhausted but beaming, looked up at her with wide eyes. “Wonderful work today, everyone!” she said, her voice warm and enthusiastic. “You all did so well. Now, before you leave, come here for a tiny reward.”

One by one, the toddlers shuffled forward, led by their parents or gently guided by Rio who played the role of assistant teacher. Miss Geraldine held a small tray, carefully placing bright, colorful stamps on each child’s hand. When it was Violet’s turn, she practically bounced onto the spot, her little curls springing with every tiny movement.

“There we go, sweetheart,” Rio said, holding Violet’s hand still as Miss Geraldine pressed a cheerful sun stamp onto the back of it. Violet’s eyes grew huge, shining with delight. She looked down at the tiny sun and then up at Rio, her little tongue peeking out from between her teeth in pure concentration.

“Look!” Nicky shouted from the bench, clapping his hands loudly and sending Yellow Dragon bouncing along with him. “Vivi got a stamp! She’s the best! Yay, Vivi!”

Violet’s grin widened even more, if that were possible. She lifted her hand high, showing off the stamp to everyone in the studio, spinning once in place to make sure everyone could see it. “Sun!” she declared, her little voice squeaky and proud.

Agatha, standing nearby, watched quietly, feeling a swell of emotion. Violet’s pride was infectious, and the little girl’s happiness was utterly radiant. It was exacltly like Nicky at this age—so excited, their joy unfiltered, sparkling, and entirely of their own making. Agatha’s lips curved into a small smile as she leaned against the wall, taking it all in for the second time.

Violet, however, was not done. The stamp on her hand didn’t satisfy the dancing urge that had carried her through the class. She wiggled in Rio’s arms and pointed toward the studio floor, making a soft, urgent sound that translated into “more dancing, please.” She hopped slightly, trying to push herself closer to the floor without actually letting go of Rio.

Rio laughed softly, the sound full of warmth. “Oh, I see, my little dancer,” she murmured, bending to meet Violet at eye level. “You want to dance some more?”

Violet nodded emphatically, her curls bouncing with each movement. “Mama! Dance!” she insisted, her toddler words breaking the tension with charm.

Agatha stepped closer. “I think she’s hooked,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with awe and a little amusement.

Rio’s eyes softened as she watched Violet tug gently at her fingers. “Of course she is,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter’s face. “She’s mine.”

The words were simple, but Agatha could see the depth of meaning in them—Violet was following in her mother’s footsteps, discovering joy in the art that Rio loved so much, and there was a thread of inheritance and pride woven into the moment.

Violet tugged again, coaxing Rio toward the center of the room. She attempted a wobbling little pirouette, and Rio gently guided her, arms circling slowly to help her maintain balance. The two of them moved together in tiny, perfect steps, mirroring the motions from the class but in a private little dance of their own.

Nicky was beside himself on the bench, clapping so loudly that other parents turned to watch. “Go, Vivi! Spin! Mommy’s helping! You’re amazing!” he cheered, making Yellow Dragon wave its little fabric arms in approval.

Violet giggled uncontrollably, spinning again and letting her curls bounce around her face. She squealed every time Rio’s hands steadied her, her little toes flexing against the soft studio floor. She looked toward Agatha once, her eyes sparkling, and pointed at her mom as if to say, “See? I’m dancing! Isn’t this amazing?”

Agatha couldn’t help but chuckle and clap along quietly. She saw the connections forming between mother and daughter, the way Rio’s patience and love translated into motion, confidence, and sheer joy for Violet.

When Rio finally bent down to scoop her up, Violet snuggled close, her tiny arms wrapped around her mother’s neck. But she didn’t stop moving entirely—she wriggled and swayed slightly in Rio’s hold, her laughter echoing through the studio.

“You think you’re done, my little star?” Rio asked softly, resting her chin against Violet’s curls.

“Nooo!” Violet protested, shaking her head and giggling again. “Mowe dance! Mama dance!”

Agatha watched, laughing quietly to herself. There was no doubt—this was just the beginning. Violet had discovered something she loved, and it had brought the entire family together in a new, bright, and beautiful way.

The little stamp on her hand glowed like a badge of honor in the sunlight streaming through the studio windows, and Violet, in all her toddler glory, knew exactly how proud she was—and how proud she made everyone else.

Now, however, the sparkle in her eyes had softened into the soft glaze of fatigue.

Agatha took the girl from Rio’s arms, placing her on her own hip. Violet rested her head against Agatha’s shoulder immediately, her thumb slipping into her mouth, the familiar gesture signaling the creeping tendrils of sleep. Her tiny body relaxed against her mother, her little arms wrapping loosely around Agatha’s neck, the weight of a day full of movement and excitement finally settling in.

“Looks like someone’s finally had enough dancing for one morning,” Agatha murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss into the top of Violet’s curls. Her voice was warm and tender, carrying the same soft, grounding energy she always had when calming her children. Violet made a small, sleepy noise in response, blinking slowly as if to say, yes, I’m tired, but today was perfect.

Nicky, still full of energy and buzzing with excitement, ran over clutching Yellow Dragon tightly. “Vivi! Take him! You need him for your nap! He’ll watch over you!” he said in a rush, holding the stuffed dragon up like it was a precious artifact.

Violet’s eyes fluttered open briefly, her small hand reaching out automatically for the familiar yellow dragon. Agatha carefully helped her settle Yellow Dragon in her lap, and Violet’s thumb returned to her mouth as she cuddled the plush toy, already beginning to drift toward sleep.

“You did so well today, my little ballerina,” Agatha whispered, smoothing the soft curls at the back of Violet’s head. Violet made a soft, sleepy squeak, pressing her cheek further into her mother’s shoulder.

Meanwhile, Nicky bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, reluctant for them to leave. “Mama, Vivi, you’ll show me spins later! Promise?” he demanded, his voice a mix of insistence and worry that everything be exactly right.

Agatha chuckled softly, giving Nicky a reassuring squeeze. “I promise, sweetheart. You’ll come home later with Mom and practice spins at home.”

Rio, preparing to start Nicky’s class officially, knelt to give her son a quick hug. “Now it’s your turn, little dragon trainer,” she said, winking at him. “Watch closely, follow my instructions, and I’ll help you master every move today.”

Nicky’s eyes gleamed as he hugged her back. “I’ll be the best dancer too today! Vivi, don’t fall asleep too fast! I’ll tell you everything when I get home!”

Agatha smiled, her arms tight around the sleepy Violet. “We’ll be going home now, love. You’ve earned your nap.” She adjusted Violet so that the little girl was resting securely on her hip, one arm slung around Agatha’s neck, the other clutching Yellow Dragon. Violet’s tiny thumb continued its comforting rhythm, and her eyelids drooped more and more with each step toward the door.

As they walked out, the other parents waved, and Miss Geraldine offered a warm smile. “She was a natural today. Such a joy to watch.”

Agatha nodded, returning the smile. “Thank you. She loved it. Absolutely loved it.”

Nicky waved furiously, shouting, “Bye, Vivi! Bye, Mama! Don’t sleep too long!” Rio gave a hand wave from the studio doorway, the sound of her son’s laughter and exuberant cheer filling the air, blending with the faint echoes of music that still lingered in the studio.

“Bye, Nicky! Be good for Mom!” Agatha called back, her voice soft but affectionate. Violet made a small, sleepy noise in agreement, too tired to respond in full words but perfectly content.

Once outside, Agatha maneuvered Violet into her car seat while Violet lazily clutched Yellow Dragon. The little girl’s eyelids were now nearly closed, her soft sighs carrying the unmistakable rhythm of impending sleep. Agatha buckled her in gently, leaning down to kiss Violet’s forehead once more.

“Sweet dreams, my little dancer.”

*

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Chapter Text

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The Saturday sun lingered high in the sky, bathing Westview in a soft, golden warmth that felt almost like summer refusing to give up its grip. Mid-September usually carried the faintest bite of autumn, but today, after dance class, it was still so warm that cicadas hummed lazily in the trees and the air felt like it might melt into honey.

The Harkness-Vidals walked home with Violet in her stroller, her head drooping sideways as she clutched the skirt of her tutu, still sleepy from her earlier ballet adventures, but had refused to take the leotard off for her nap when Agatha had taken her back to go get Rio and Nicky. The boy skipped along beside them, narrating everything he saw as if it were part of a grand epic—squirrels gathering acorns, a neighbor washing their car, the bright splash of chalk drawings on the sidewalk. Rio pushed the stroller, her curls sticking to the back of her neck from the heat, while Agatha carried their dance bags slung across her shoulder, looking effortlessly composed despite the sun.

Saturdays always carried a little sense of accomplishment, as if the week had given them permission to exhale. Tomorrow would be Sunday—their day of rituals, routines, and comfort. Usually, it meant piling into the car and driving to Lilia’s house. Nicky would race into her garden the second he was unbuckled, Violet would toddle behind with outstretched arms, and Agatha would end up in the kitchen with Lilia, laughing as they cooked together. Rio, for her part, always settled at the table with a glass of wine, ready to watch her family and soak in the peace of it.

But as they reached their house and stepped into the cool shade of the hallway, Agatha reminded them gently, “Remember, my loves—tomorrow we won’t be going to Grandma Lilia’s. She’s out of town for the day.”

Nicky, who had been kicking his shoes off in the entryway, froze mid-motion. His eyes widened, and he gasped as though his entire sense of order had been shattered. “What? No Grandma?”

Agatha knelt to help Violet wriggle out of her little sandals and glanced up at her son. “No Grandma tomorrow. She’s going to see Aunt Cecilia and Uncle James. But we’ll find something fun to do instead.”

Nicky crossed his arms in thought, his expression comically serious. “We can’t just stay home. Sundays are adventure days.” He tapped his chin, dramatically pacing across the rug. “We need something big. Something special.”

From the kitchen, Rio called, “Something special, huh?” She carried in Violet’s water sippy cup, handing it to the toddler who immediately drank half of it in greedy gulps. “What did you have in mind, captain?”

Nicky’s answer came without hesitation: “Swimming! We should go swimming tomorrow!”

Violet perked up, water dripping down her chin as she squeaked, “Wim! Wim!” She slapped her little palms together, splashing a few drops of water onto Agatha’s blouse, not that Agatha minded. Her Mama raised an eyebrow, almost absolutely sure the little girl didn’t have the slightest idea of what swimming even was.

Rio, however, paused in the doorway. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face. She tucked a curl behind her ear and tilted her head, but didn’t immediately answer. Agatha noticed—the tiny shift in her wife’s posture, the slight narrowing of her eyes, the faint pinch of unease around her mouth. Something about swimming made Rio hesitate, though she said nothing outright.

Agatha didn’t press, not yet. Instead, she leaned into the momentum of Nicky’s excitement. “Swimming could be fun,” she said thoughtfully, smoothing Violet’s unruly curls. “But we’d need a pool. And no, Nicky, not the inflatable dinosaur one in the garage. I mean a real pool.”

Nicky immediately lit up. “A real pool! Mama, please! We can’t waste the warm! It’s like… a late summer gift!”

Rio sighed softly, torn between her son’s wide pleading eyes and her own quiet misgivings. Finally, she relented with a small smile. “Alright, alright. If we can find a pool, then yes—we’ll go swimming tomorrow.”

Nicky cheered so loudly that Violet joined in, clapping her hands and chanting, “Wim ! Wim! Wimmin’!” The word was still wobbly in her mouth, but the joy was clear in every syllable.

Agatha, already reaching for her phone, knew exactly who to call. Wanda.

She stepped into the living room and dialed her friend. Wanda picked up quickly, her voice warm and familiar through the speaker. “Agatha! To what do I owe this honor?”

Agatha smiled. “A favor, actually. Do you mind terribly if I ask? The children are desperate to go swimming tomorrow, and since Lilia’s away, I thought… perhaps… we could impose upon your pool?”

Wanda laughed softly. “Impose? Please. You know you’re always welcome. But as it happens, we won’t be home—we’re taking the boys to visit Vision’s family. The pool will be lonely without anyone to splash in it. You’d be doing us a favor.”

Agatha exhaled with relief. “You’re a saint. Thank you. I’ll take excellent care of everything.”

“Of course. I’ll drop off the keys this evening,” Wanda added cheerfully. “And hey—you should invite Alice and Jen. Make it a little party. The kids would love it.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Agatha agreed. They chatted briefly more before saying goodbye, Wanda’s warmth filling the edges of Agatha’s heart as it always did.

When she returned, Nicky was perched on the couch like a king waiting for news of battle. Violet sat cross-legged at his feet, babbling to Yellow Dragon.

“Well?” Nicky demanded.

Agatha lifted her chin with mock drama. “Pack your swimsuits, my darlings. Tomorrow, we swim.”

The explosion of joy that followed nearly shook the walls. Nicky whooped and jumped on the couch, and Violet twirled in clumsy little circles, shouting, “Wim! Wim Mamaaaa!” before tumbling into Rio’s arms.

Rio caught her easily, laughing despite herself, though Agatha didn’t miss the flicker of uncertainty still lingering in her wife’s eyes. She would ask later, in the quiet. For now, she let herself be swept up in her children’s happiness, the house filled with their gleeful chants of, “Swim! Swim! Swim!”

After lunch, the house carried that heavy-lidded lull that always followed a meal. The plates were still stacked in the sink, the faint smell of grilled cheese lingering in the air, and Violet had disappeared under the dining table with Yellow Dragon as though it were her private post-lunch cave. Nicky sprawled across the couch, declaring himself “too full to ever move again” until someone mentioned swimming again, which, predictably, made him sit bolt upright.

It was in that burst of excitement that the practical problem revealed itself.

“Okay,” Agatha said as she leaned against the doorframe, surveying her small kingdom. “Tomorrow, swimsuits. I have mine. Do you all have one?”

“Of course!” Nicky replied, puffing his chest with confidence. “I’ll wear my shark one!”

“Your what one?” Agatha arched an eyebrow.

“The shark swimsuit Grandma bought me,” Nicky explained. He looked so certain that Agatha almost believed him—until Rio appeared from the kitchen with a raised finger.

“Not so fast, captain. That was two summers ago. You outgrew it before you even wore it once because we never went to the beach in the end.” She dropped a kiss on his hair as he groaned in betrayal. “Sorry, buddy. No shark swimsuit anymore.”

“Then… what am I supposed to wear?!” Nicky flopped backward, hands covering his face as though life had dealt him the cruelest blow.

Agatha chuckled softly, then turned to Rio. “And you, my love? You have one, yes?”

Rio froze, mid-step, caught like a deer in headlights. Her mouth opened, then closed again. “…Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” Agatha tilted her head, amused but also curious.

Rio shrugged, scratching at the back of her neck. “I… don’t own one. Haven’t in years.”

Agatha blinked. “Years?”

Rio nodded, avoiding her wife’s eyes, and gave a little laugh that didn’t sound quite natural. “Yeah. I guess I just… never needed one. Last time I went to the beach was probably in undergrad, when Alice dragged me for a weekend. And even then, I wore shorts and a t-shirt instead of a swimsuit and stayed on the shore. Not really my thing.”

Agatha was quiet for a moment, her sharp mind tucking away the oddness of it. In years of marriage, countless weekends, dozens of holidays—never once had swimming come up.

“That’s… surprising,” Agatha said finally, her voice carefully even. She crossed the room and perched on the arm of the couch, one hand reaching instinctively for Rio’s arm. “We’ve been married more than three years and we’ve never gone swimming together. I think I would have remembered that.”

Rio laughed again, but the sound was a little too quick, a little too airy. “Well, now we’ll fix that. First time for everything, right?”

Agatha let her thumb trail along the side of Rio’s face, studying her wife’s eyes. She almost looked… embarrassed. It wasn’t like the times Rio was holding something painful back. No it seemed like something lighter but still causing her little trouble. Something was tucked away there, something Rio wasn’t ready to let out, and Agatha, wise enough to know when not to pry, simply kissed her temple. “Right,” she murmured. “First time for everything.”

Meanwhile, Nicky had sat back up, sensing the tide of conversation shifting away from him. “Wait—so Mom and Vivi don’t have swimsuits either?” He looked from his mother to his sister, scandalized. “How can we go swimming if we don’t have swimming clothes? Violet doesn’t even know what swimming clothes are!”

“Wim wim,” Violet echoed from beneath the table, clutching Yellow Dragon to her chest. “Swim. Mama wim.”

Agatha laughed outright this time. “Well, I suppose that settles it. This afternoon, after Vivi’s nap, we go swimsuit shopping. All of us.”

Nicky cheered, springing up from the couch with newfound energy, as though the weight of his earlier meal had never existed. “Yes! A new swimsuit! Maybe with dinosaurs! Or lightning bolts! Or—oh—maybe one that glows in the dark!”

Rio rolled her eyes fondly. “Sweetheart, I don’t think glowing in the dark is an option.”

“Not with that attitude,” Nicky muttered, already sprinting down the hall to fetch his shoes, despite Agatha’s reminder that they weren’t leaving just yet.

Agatha glanced once more at Rio, noting the faint unease still hidden under her smile. But she said nothing—for now. If swimsuit shopping was the obstacle, they’d face it together. And maybe she’d get to see her wife in something she had never seen before.

The mall was buzzing with weekend life, all polished tiles and fluorescent light, the hum of conversations blending with the occasional squeal of a child tugging a parent toward some brightly colored shop window. Nicky was practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing at Agatha’s side like he had springs in his shoes.

“I haven’t been swimming in forever!” he declared for what had to be the fourth time since they’d left the house. “Like, forever-ever. Tomorrow I’m gonna swim so much I’ll be faster than a dolphin. You’ll see. You’ll all see!” He spread his arms out as if to mimic fins, nearly colliding with an unsuspecting passerby.

Agatha caught him gently by the shoulder, guiding him back toward the safe lane of the walkway. “Careful, little dolphin,” she teased. “Don’t knock down strangers before you’ve even made it to the pool.”

That got a laugh out of him, loud and bright, echoing across the busy corridor.

Meanwhile, Violet was perched in her stroller like a tiny queen, babbling in her two-year-old sing-song, waving generously to every passerby who dared glance in her direction. An older woman carrying shopping bags paused to wave back, making Violet shriek with delight and slap her little palms together.

“She thinks this mall is her stage,” Agatha murmured, watching the toddler beam proudly at the attention.

Rio, pushing the stroller, gave a quiet laugh but said little else. Her eyes skimmed the storefronts, her posture a little tighter than usual, though she tried to mask it under her natural energy. 

The contrast made itself more and more apparent the longer they walked: Nicky bouncing and talking a mile a minute about all the possible swimsuit designs he hoped to find, Violet babbling and waving, and Rio… quieter. Reserved. A little too careful with her smiles.

Agatha didn’t press—not here, not now, not with both kids tugging the rhythm of the day forward. But she slipped a look at her wife, and her chest softened. Rio would tell her in time. She always did, in her own way.

Nicky tugged on Agatha’s hand again, impatient. “Can we go to the store already? The one with swimsuits? I want to try them all! Do you think they’ll have a dolphin one? Or maybe—” He gasped. “Maybe one with lasers! Dolphins with lasers!”

Agatha smothered a laugh and looked at Rio, whose lips curved despite her quiet mood. “Lasers, hm? That sounds very practical for the pool,” Rio said, her tone dry but affectionate.

Violet babbled something that sounded like “Zzz-zoom!” and clapped, as if agreeing wholeheartedly with her brother’s dream.

Agatha smiled at the three of them—her restless dolphin boy, her babbling toddler queen, her silent wife with something behind her eyes—and steered them all toward the bright store at the end of the hall where mannequins in neon swimsuits stood waiting in the window.

The shop smelled faintly of sunscreen and new stretchy fabric, as if it was trying to bottle up summer and sell it in pieces. Racks of brightly colored swimsuits stretched in every direction, neon pinks and blues beside tropical prints, children’s sizes grouped by the changing rooms.

Nicky was in heaven. The moment they stepped inside, he darted toward the racks like he had been released onto a treasure hunt. “Look! Look at this one!” he shouted, waving a pair of red trunks high in the air. “It’s got cars! And this one has pineapples! Pineapples, Mom! Can I try them all?”

Rio, still with her hands on Violet’s stroller, gave the faintest laugh, watching her son glow with excitement. “If you try them all, we’ll be here until midnight,” she teased.

“I wouldn’t mind!” Nicky grinned, holding two more pairs against his chest like prized trophies. He practically danced his way back to them, his sneakers squeaking against the floor tiles.

Agatha trailed after him with her usual composed gait, glancing over the fabrics like she was considering an entirely different kind of lesson. “Alright, big dolphin,” she said, gently taking one of the pairs from his hand. “Here’s something important you should know. Swimmers—especially children—need bright, easily visible colors. Dark trunks can blend into the water, and that can be dangerous.”

Nicky looked up at her, blinking. “Dangerous?”

“Yes,” Agatha said, calm but firm. “If you’re wearing something too dark or too blue, it makes it harder for anyone to spot you quickly. Safety always comes first.” She glanced over at Rio with a little smile. “Don’t you agree, love?”

Rio, who had been crouching to adjust Violet’s little sun hat as the toddler babbled and pointed at a rack of sequined swimsuits, glanced up and nodded. “She’s right. Bright is best.”

Luckily, Nicky lit up like someone had told him Christmas had come early. “Bright? That’s perfect! I love bright colors!” He darted back toward the racks again, arms outstretched like he could scoop up the entire rainbow if he tried hard enough.

Violet kicked her little legs from the stroller, squealing in encouragement, as though she completely understood what the commotion was about. “Gween! Gween!” she shouted suddenly, pointing to a particularly bold bright-green pair dangling from a hanger.

Rio gasped, smooshing her nose with her daughter’s, making her squeal. “New word alert for Vivi Moon!”

Nicky gasped dramatically. “She’s right! Green! That’s it!” He snatched the trunks off the rack and held them proudly in front of his chest. “This one. This one’s perfect.”

Agatha raised a brow, amused. “So quick to decide, after all that energy?”

“Not just any green,” Nicky declared solemnly. “It’s Mom’s favorite color.” He glanced over his shoulder at Rio, grinning wide. “So it’s mine too. I’m gonna swim like a dolphin and wear Mom’s color.”

Rio’s lips parted, and for a moment, the noise of the shop fell away. She pressed a hand over her chest, her eyes softening. “Oh, Nicky…”

Her big boy—her exuberant, boundless son—loved her so much, in every little way he could think to show it. Even here, in something as small as the color of a swimsuit.

She smiled then, really smiled, the kind that lifted her whole face and made Agatha’s heart settle a little. “Green it is,” Rio said, her voice playful now. “My dolphin in green.”

Nicky puffed up with pride, holding the trunks to his chest like a trophy. “Yes! Tomorrow I’ll swim the fastest! Maybe I’ll even beat the dolphins!”

Violet clapped in the stroller, echoing her brother’s energy, then babbled something completely incomprehensible but clearly enthusiastic. She stretched her tiny hands toward Nicky as though asking to hold the trunks herself.

“Even Violet approves,” Agatha said dryly, brushing her fingers over the soft fabric of the trunks. “I think we have a winner.”

Nicky grinned and darted toward the fitting rooms before either of them could stop him, already calling back, “I’m gonna try it on! Don’t peek!”

Rio laughed at his dramatic retreat, shaking her head. “As if we could miss you in that neon green,” she murmured. Her hand lingered on Violet’s stroller handle as she looked down at her daughter, who had now shifted her attention to a glittery mermaid-patterned swimsuit, reaching for it like her life depended on it.

Agatha leaned close enough to murmur against Rio’s ear, “One down. One very bright, very proud dolphin to go.”

Rio chuckled softly before Nicky’s triumphant shout echoed from the fitting room, demanding an audience for his grand reveal.

When he emerged from the fitting room, he strutted out as though he were modeling on the world’s grandest runway. The neon-green trunks fit perfectly, bright against his tanned legs. He put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, striking a dramatic pose.

“Well?” he demanded, eyes sparkling. “How do I look?”

Agatha smirked, tapping her chin as though giving it deep, scholarly consideration. “I’d say… like a small amphibian,” she said smoothly, eyes twinkling. “Maybe a frog.”

“Mamaaa!” Nicky groaned, throwing his arms out with mock despair.

Rio chuckled, clapping her hands. “No, you look like exactly what you said. A dolphin. The brightest, fastest dolphin in the pool. I love it, sweetheart.”

That did it—his whole face lit up. He twirled in a circle, then bowed. Violet clapped wildly from her stroller, squealing in delight.

“Alright, superstar,” Agatha said with a smile, guiding him back toward the fitting room. “Change back, and we’ll pay for it later. Now it’s your sister’s turn.”

At that, Violet perked up immediately. “Me! Me!” she chirped, wiggling in her stroller. Her tiny legs kicked against the straps until Rio unbuckled her, and the toddler tumbled out onto the floor, toddling forward like she’d been waiting her whole life for this exact moment.

Rio tuned towards the racks. “Okay, Vivi. It’s your turn to pick. Let’s see what Mama and I can find for you.”

Agatha sifted through the toddler racks, carefully pulling out a few bright options. “How about this one?” she asked, holding up a sunny yellow one-piece with pink stripes.

Rio grabbed another—a pink suit decorated with little starfish. “Or this? Very ocean-appropriate.”

Between them, they soon had four possibilities: the yellow-and-pink stripes, the pink starfish, a cherry-red with tiny white polka dots, and an orange one with little suns on it. Agatha crouched and fanned them out dramatically like cards, presenting them to her daughter with mock solemnity.

“Choose wisely, Violet Harkness-Vidal,” she intoned. “The fate of tomorrow’s swim rests upon your decision.”

Vivi blinked up at her Mama, then toddled forward in her determined little way. She reached out her pudgy hand, inspected the options briefly… then abruptly turned on her heel, waddled two racks down, and jabbed her finger at something else entirely.

“Dis!” she shouted triumphantly.

Rio and Agatha exchanged a glance, then followed their daughter’s lead. Hanging there was a tiny one-piece, bright purple and covered with cheerful yellow flowers.

Agatha’s brow arched. “Well. Clearly, she knows her mind.”

Rio laughed, pressing her hand against her lips. “Oh my god. She didn’t even hesitate. That’s the one.” She looked down at Violet, who was still pointing insistently. “You want the purple flowers, baby girl?”

“Yes!” Violet announced proudly, beaming. “Mine!”

Agatha quickly found the baby’s size, plucked it off the hanger and held it up. “You realize,” she said dryly, “that our daughter already has stronger fashion opinions than most adults?”

Rio smirked, brushing hair back from her face. “She’s two. She knows what she wants.” Then she leaned down to scoop Violet into her arms. “And what she wants is flowers.”

“Fowas!” Violet repeated, burying her face in the swimsuit like it was already hers.

Agatha chuckled under her breath. “We present four carefully chosen options, and she marches off to pick something else entirely.” She shook her head with amusement. “A force of nature already.”

Rio kissed Violet’s cheek, her laugh warm and soft. “She’s ours. Of course she is.”

Vivi wriggled out of her mom’s arms, holding the swimsuit proudly as though she’d conquered a kingdom. She toddled over to Nicky—who had just returned in his regular clothes—shoving the purple fabric at him for approval.

“Wook! Mine!” she announced.

Nicky blinked, then grinned. “Whoa. That’s so bright! You’re gonna look like a flower-fish, Vivi.”

Violet giggled, clearly taking that as the highest compliment imaginable.

Rio looked on, heart swelling at the way her kids delighted in each other. She could already picture tomorrow: her son in neon green, her daughter in purple and yellow, both of them splashing in the water like they’d been waiting for this late summer day forever.

Agatha touched Rio’s shoulder lightly, leaning close enough that her voice was just for her. “One dolphin, one flower-fish,” she murmured, her tone warm. “We’re raising quite the menagerie.”

Rio tilted her head against Agatha’s for just a moment, her lips curving into a smile. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Violet, meanwhile, was still toddling around the shop, clutching her swimsuit like a prize, babbling happily, showing it off to strangers. She stumbled over her own feet, then steadied herself by grabbing onto her brother’s arm. Nicky ruffled her hair affectionately, patient in the way only a big brother could be.

And just like that, the choice was settled. The purple-and-yellow suit it would be.

Once Violet’s prize had been triumphantly claimed, the spotlight naturally shifted to the one person still without a swimsuit: Rio.

Agatha had noticed her wife’s shoulders tighten the moment they moved from the children’s racks to the adult section. Nicky was still buzzing about, pretending to swim through the store aisles with dolphin noises, Violet toddling after him with her purple swimsuit clutched like a treasure. In contrast, Rio’s silence stood out, like a string pulled taut.

“Your turn, love,” Agatha said lightly, brushing her hand against Rio’s. “Shall we?”

Rio gave her a fleeting smile. “Mm. Yeah, sure. My turn.” But her eyes skated away from the rows of swimsuits, lingering instead on the children as though that might serve as a distraction.

Agatha tilted her head, reading her like an open book. Her wife could be a firecracker, quick to laugh and dramatic as a summer storm—but when she pulled inward like this, there was always something beneath the surface.

At first, Agatha thought she knew what it was. She touched Rio’s hip gently, her voice low. “If this is about stretchmarks, my love, you know they don’t make you any less beautiful. Not to me. Not ever.”

Rio blinked, surprised, then immediately shook her head. “No—no, it’s not that. Agatha.” She stepped closer, taking her wife’s hand and pressing it flat against her stomach with a quiet insistence. Her gaze softened. “I love my body. These lines? They’re proof that I carried our daughter safe for nine months. They’re part of me. I’m proud of them.”

The words struck Agatha with a warmth so sudden she smiled brightly on instinct. Relief, joy, admiration—all of it tangled together. She cupped Rio’s cheek with her free hand, her heart beating fast. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that,” she murmured. “Because I swear, Rio Harkness-Vidal—your body is the most beautiful thing in the world to me. Always has been. Always will be.”

Rio’s lips twitched into a shy smile at the use of her full name. “You flatter me, Professor.”

“Not flattery,” Agatha corrected smoothly, brushing her thumb along Rio’s cheekbone. “Observation.”

Rio laughed softly and ducked her head, the tension loosening a little, though not entirely. If Rio wanted to tell her, she would. Agatha had learned long ago that her wife’s truths bloomed best when given sunlight and patience.

So instead, she did what she did best—she turned it into play.

“Well then,” Agatha announced with mock grandeur, sweeping her arm toward the racks. “Since my wife is being shy, it falls upon me to take charge. We must find The Swimsuit. A task requiring great skill, taste, and discernment.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, amused despite herself. “You’re going to do for me what you just did for Vivi, aren’t you?”

“Precisely,” Agatha said, lips curving into a sly smile. “It worked like a charm on our toddler. Why not on you?”

Rio let out a burst of laughter, covering her mouth. “Because I'm not two, Agatha. You’re impossible.”

“Impossible, perhaps. Effective? Always.” Agatha began sifting through the racks with exaggerated seriousness, muttering little commentaries as she flipped hangers. “Too dreary. Too flimsy. Oh, no, this one looks like it was designed by someone who hates joy. Ah—now this has potential.”

Rio leaned against the stroller, watching with an expression that was half bemusement, half tenderness.

Soon Agatha had three options draped over her arm. She spun on her heel dramatically, fanning them out in front of Rio just as she had done with Violet. “Behold, wife of mine. Option one: sleek navy with a daring neckline. Option two: emerald green—my personal favorite color on you, and incidentally the one our son worships you for. And option three: a deep plum one-piece, elegant and regal, like the queen you are.”

Rio snorted, unable to stop her grin. “You really are using the toddler technique on me.”

“Yes,” Agatha replied without hesitation, her eyes glinting. “And it’s working, isn’t it?”

Rio shook her head, still laughing, but her fingers drifted over the fabrics. And Agatha saw it—that flicker of relief in her wife’s face, the tension easing because every single option Agatha had chosen was something she actually liked. Not a compromise, not something she’d secretly dread wearing, but pieces that matched her taste exactly.

“You know me too well,” Rio admitted softly, holding up the green suit with a little smile.

Agatha stepped closer, voice lowering to something more intimate. “Of course I do. I know what makes you feel beautiful, because you’ve made me watch you be beautiful every day for years.”

Rio’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, touched beyond words. For a moment, she just looked at her wife, eyes bright, before finally chuckling. “You’re ridiculous. And charming. And unfair.”

Agatha kissed her wedding band. “All true.”

Rio lingered over the choices, her fingertips brushing back and forth, a little more at ease now. She still hadn’t said what had truly made her hesitant, but Agatha could wait, and she could feel it wasn’t anything too serious, so she wasn’t too worried. For now, seeing her wife’s shoulders loosen and her smile come easier was enough.

From the stroller, Violet babbled loudly, waving her flowered suit in the air like she wanted to join the game. “Mamaaa! Fowas!”

Agatha glanced over at her daughter, then back to Rio, her lips quirking. “You see? Both my girls with impeccable taste.”

Rio laughed again, a full and genuine sound this time. “You’re impossible,” she repeated. But her hand lingered on the emerald swimsuit, the one that matched Nicky’s bright-green trunks but in a deeper color. And though she didn’t say it aloud, Agatha could tell: the thought of matching her son, of being the dolphin’s partner in crime, made her heart soften.

The fitting rooms were tucked into the back of the store, a little quieter than the aisles where Nicky had been “dolphin-swimming” earlier. Agatha wrangled the stroller into a corner while Nicky bounced on his toes, clutching his precious green trunks to his chest.

Rio lingered for a moment outside the curtain, holding the emerald swimsuit in one hand, her thumb brushing over the fabric absently. She had said nothing as they walked over, though Agatha could feel the tiny storm inside her. Her wife wasn’t good at hiding from her—not really. But still, Agatha offered only a gentle squeeze of her hand and a soft, “Take your time, love,” before letting her slip behind the curtain.

Nicky tried to peek inside immediately, of course. “Mom? Can I see?”

Agatha caught his collar and pulled him back immediately. “Patience, dolphin boy. She’ll show us when she’s ready.”

Violet babbled from the stroller, kicking her feet against the footrest and waving her flowered swimsuit in the air like a victory flag. Agatha leaned down to kiss the top of her little nose. “Yes, darling, you’re right—Mommy will look marvelous.”

When Rio finally drew back the curtain, the room shifted.

The emerald green caught the light, glimmering faintly like the surface of the ocean. The cut was simple but elegant, hugging her in all the right places. It was a two-piece, and though Rio’s shoulders were just a touch tense, her chin was lifted in quiet defiance, as though daring anyone to suggest she looked anything less than radiant.

For a second, Agatha forgot to breathe.

Her jaw quite literally dropped—an involuntary reaction she couldn’t have controlled if she tried. There she was again: her wife, the woman she had loved in countless forms, standing before her like the very embodiment of beauty. It didn’t matter that they’d been married for years, that she had seen Rio every day in all manners of dress and undress—this moment still struck her heart like lightning, leaving her undone.

“Ohhh!” Violet squealed suddenly, clapping her tiny hands together with delight. She bounced in the stroller, eyes wide as though her mother had just transformed into some magical creature.

“Mom!” Nicky blurted, gasping theatrically. His eyes lit up with wonder. “You look like a mermaid!” He rushed forward, arms flailing for emphasis, almost tripping over himself. “Like—like the best mermaid in the whole ocean! You need a crown made of seashells!”

Rio flushed immediately, a rosy pink climbing her cheeks. She covered her mouth with her hand, laughing breathlessly. “A mermaid, huh?”

“Yeah! Like Ariel!” Nicky nodded so hard his hair flopped into his eyes. “You’re the prettiest one ever. If I was a fish like Flounder, I’d follow you everywhere.”

Agatha finally found her voice, though it came out softer, reverent. “Nicky is right,” she said, eyes never leaving her wife. “You look extraordinary, Rio.” Her throat tightened with sincerity. “Absolutely breathtaking. And I’ll follow you everywhere too.”

Rio shook her head, smiling shyly, unable to meet Agatha’s gaze for long without blushing harder. “You’re all ridiculous,” she murmured, though her voice wavered with how touched she was.

“Not ridiculous,” Agatha corrected. She stepped closer, lowering her voice just for Rio. “Just in love. For the hundred-millionth time.”

The words made Rio’s blush deepen, her eyes darting up to meet Agatha’s briefly, shimmering with both amusement and tenderness. Then Violet let out another cheer “Mammmaaaaa!” snapping the moment back into laughter.

“See?” Rio said, gesturing toward their children as if that explained everything. “I can’t argue with this kind of evidence.”

“Exactly!” Nicky cried, crossing his arms with great authority. “You have to get this one, Mom. No arguments. You’re a mermaid now, and mermaids wear green.”

Agatha chuckled at the certainty in his tone, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of Rio’s dark hair behind her ear. “Well then, my love,” she murmured, “I suppose the choice has been made for you.”

Rio looked down at herself one more time, fingertips brushing her stomach as if weighing something unspoken and she just shrugged. But then she lifted her head, smiled softly, and nodded. “Alright. This one, then.”

“Yaay!” Nicky pumped his fists in the air, nearly knocking into the stroller and immediately broke into a « Little Mermaid » song. Violet clapped again in agreement, babbling happily.

Agatha leaned close, just enough that her lips brushed against Rio’s temple as she whispered, “Thank you—for letting us see you like this.”

Rio’s eyes softened at that, the last traces of hesitation melting away. She kissed Agatha’s cheek quickly, her smile still pink but steadier now. “Alright,” she said again, a little firmer this time. “This is the one.”

And just like that, the mermaid had chosen her emerald crown.

With the swimsuit triumph behind them, the family didn’t leave the store just yet. Nicky—still buzzing from declaring his mom a mermaid—was tugging at Agatha’s hand, chattering about how he absolutely needed floaties if he was going to swim like a dolphin.

“Dolphins don’t wear floaties, Nicky,” Agatha pointed out as they wandered into the next section of the store, shelves stacked high with bright inflatables, kickboards, and brightly colored water toys. “But you do need floaties.”

“They would if they were kids!” he argued, planting his hands on his hips. “I mean, even dolphins have to learn. They don’t just come out swimming fast!”

Rio, who was steering Violet’s stroller, let out a laugh, the tension that had clung to her earlier now softened. “They kind of do, but he got you there, Mama.”

Agatha arched a brow but let her son win this one. “Fine. Then let’s find you the best dolphin-approved floaties.”

The display was an explosion of color—neon greens, vivid oranges, patterned blues with sharks, pinks dotted with flamingos. Nicky darted from shelf to shelf, holding up pair after pair and presenting them around, like he was on some game show.

“These ones have dinosaurs!” he exclaimed.

“And these have stripes!”

“And—Mama, look! Sharks with sunglasses!”

Agatha smothered a laugh. “I’m not entirely sure we want sharks teaching you to swim.”

Rio crouched down to Violet’s level, unbuckling her from the stroller again. “What do you think, Vivi? Which ones should your brother get?”

The toddler immediately waddled forward on her little legs, drawn to the brightest pair of all: neon orange floaties shaped like giant smiling fish. She poked at them and then clapped her hands as though she’d discovered a treasure.

“Well,” Agatha said dryly, “there’s our answer.”

“Bright orange, huh?” Nicky wrinkled his nose, but then, after a beat, his eyes lit up. “Wait—that’s like goldfish! And goldfish are super fast!” He beamed at Violet. “Thanks, Vivi. You’re the best.”

Violet babbled proudly, tugging the floaties off the hook with both hands before toppling backward onto her diaper-padded bottom. Rio scooped her up, laughing. “Looks like these are coming home with us.”

But of course, Nicky wasn’t done. “And can we get some toys too? Just a few? Please?!”

Agatha gave him her sternest look, which lasted all of three seconds before she sighed. “One toy. Each. And don’t make me regret it.”

Nicky dashed to the water toy display like he was competing in an Olympic sprint, his eyes zeroing in on a small dolphin-shaped squirt toy. He hugged it to his chest with absolute certainty. “This one. Because dolphins, Mama. Dolphins.”

Rio shook her head fondly, then turned to Violet, who was reaching with grabby hands toward a floating ring stack shaped like flowers. “You like this one, baby?” she asked, holding it out.

Violet clapped and squealed, grabbing the toy and chewing immediately on one of the petals.

“Decision made,” Agatha muttered with a chuckle. “I see where they get it from.”

“Me?” Rio gasped theatrically. “Excuse me, you’re the one who lectures people into submission. I just… make persuasive faces.” She gave Agatha her most exaggerated puppy eyes.

Agatha groaned. “You mean the ones you use when you’ve eaten the last piece of chocolate cake and try to convince me it’s not you, even when I’ve seen you do it?”

Nicky giggled. “You guys are funny.”

By the time they reached the checkout, their arms were full: two swimsuits for the kids, an emerald mermaid suit for Rio, Agatha’s trusty old swimsuit that she would never part with was already confirmed at home but she did need new flip-flops, floaties (the most safe and secure ones for Violet, chosen by Agatha herself), toys, and even a little waterproof bag for snacks that Nicky had somehow convinced them was “totally necessary.”

At home, the shopping bags were dropped by the door in a cheerful heap. Violet toddled around with her flower toy, humming to herself, while Nicky ran circles around the living room, dolphin toy squeaking in his hand.

Rio leaned against the wall, her expression soft as she watched them. Agatha moved beside her, their shoulders brushing. “Successful mission, I’d say.”

“Very successful,” Rio agreed, though her eyes lingered on Nicky, who had stopped mid-run to gently hand Violet her toy after she dropped it. “They’re so… them. I love it.”

Agatha pressed a kiss to her temple, her voice low. “I love all of you.”

Rio smiled faintly, cheeks still pink, and leaned into her. “Even with the chaos?”

“Especially with the chaos,” Agatha replied, slipping her arm around her wife as their children laughed in the background.

The house was filled with the soft chaos of playtime. In the garden Nicky had already named his dolphin squirt toy “Flash” , had filled it with water and was busily running it through elaborate adventures that involved leaping over Violet’s flower float stack, while practicing hitting targets with weak streams of water. Violet squealed with laughter every time her brother made splash noises with his mouth, clapping along as if she fully understood the epic storyline unfolding.

Agatha lingered for a moment, smiling at the sight of them, then noticed the absence of her wife. She padded quietly down the hallway until she found Rio in their bedroom.

Rio was perched on the edge of the bed, a neat pile of folded swimsuits in front of her—Nicky’s bright green trunks, Violet’s purple one-piece with its cheerful yellow flowers. Next to those, laid out carefully, was the emerald green two-piece Agatha had picked for her earlier. Rio’s fingers toyed with the strap absently, her brow furrowed.

Agatha leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a beat. She knew that look. It wasn’t vanity, not exactly—Rio could admire herself with all the dramatic flair in the world when she wanted to. This was something else.

Crossing the room, Agatha sat down on the bed beside her. “Love,” she began softly, “why are you so reluctant about this swimming trip?”

Rio glanced up, caught in the question, then looked back down at the swimsuit in her hands. Her lips parted like she might answer right away, but she didn’t. Instead, she folded Nicky’s trunks again, even though they were already perfectly square. Then she smoothed out Violet’s little one-piece, folding it with painstaking precision.

Agatha tilted her head, patient, waiting. She knew her wife’s silences by now—the ones that meant she was about to launch into a playful tangent, and the ones that meant something deeper was stirring. This silence was heavy with the latter.

Finally, Rio’s eyes lifted. She looked bashful, her cheeks warming, and the words came out small and hesitant. “I… I can’t swim.”

Agatha blinked. For a second, she thought she’d misheard. “You… can’t?”

Rio shook her head, wincing like it was some great shame. “No. Nobody taught me in foster care. It was just never… something we did. And then, when I got to Lilia, we didn’t really go swimming either. By then I felt like I was too old to learn. So, I just… never said anything. Told people I didn’t like the water. It was easier.”

Her voice cracked a little at the end, embarrassed. She set the swimsuit down, avoiding Agatha’s gaze.

There was a long pause. Then Agatha did something that startled Rio completely—she laughed. Not meanly, not even close, but with this soft, warm sound that filled the room like sunlight.

Rio’s head snapped up. “Don’t laugh!” she protested, flustered, but there was no bite in her tone, just wounded pride.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Agatha reassured quickly, reaching over to tug her into her lap. Rio let herself be guided, straddling Agatha’s thighs as her wife held her close. “I’m laughing because—oh, love—this isn’t something to be embarrassed about. Not at all.”

Rio buried her face against Agatha’s shoulder. “It feels silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Agatha murmured, brushing her fingers through Rio’s dark hair. “Plenty of adults don’t know how to swim. And the best part is—I can teach you. Just like I’ve been teaching Nicky.”

Rio lifted her head, eyes wide. “You’d… teach me?”

“Of course.” Agatha cupped her cheek, her thumb stroking gently. “I promise you, Rio, I will not let you drown. Not for a second. You’ll be safe with me. And besides, Nicky’s not a confident swimmer yet either, so it’ll just be both of you learning together. Think of it as a family adventure.”

Rio blinked at her, the tension in her shoulders finally starting to ease. “You make it sound less terrifying and more…” She searched for the word, her lips quirking. “Fun.”

“Because it will be fun,” Agatha assured her. “And if you decide you don’t like it, that’s fine too. You can stay in the shallow end with Violet and play with her. She’ll be delighted to have you splashing around.”

Rio couldn’t help it—she laughed, the embarrassment melting into something warm and safe. “You really think I’ll like it?”

“I think,” Agatha said, her tone fond and certain, “that, considering how you’re always taking baths, once you get past the nerves, you’ll absolutely love it. And if you don’t, I’ll still love you just the same.”

Rio’s eyes softened, and she finally exhaled the breath she’d been holding all day. Relief washed over her like a tide. She shifted in Agatha’s lap, wrapping her arms around her neck, her forehead pressing against hers. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You exist,” Agatha teased.

Rio grinned now, the bashfulness replaced with her usual spark. She straddled her properly, leaning in for a slow, grateful kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered against her lips.

Agatha brushed her nose against hers. “Always.”

Rio pulled back just enough to give her a wicked little smile. “And for the record? I can’t wait to see you in your swimsuit too. Worshipping my wife by the pool sounds like the perfect plan.”

Agatha chuckled, her cheeks heating just a touch despite herself. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love it,” Rio shot back before kissing her again, laughter spilling between them as the sound of their children playing echoed down the hallway.

*

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Chapter Text

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Sunday after lunch, the house was humming with the giddy sortg of anticipation that only promised fun could bring. Agatha had managed to tidy the kitchen just enough to keep the counters from being buried under swim bags, sunscreen bottles, and snack bowls, but the living room was already surrendering to chaos. Nicky was bouncing from sofa to armchair and back again, humming loudly as he clutched his new dolphin toy. Violet, in her flower-patterned swimsuit with a little cover-up on top, toddled after him with all the determination of a tiny general, waving her inflatable armbands in triumph.

The knock at the door sent both children into squeals of delight.

“Auntie Alice! Auntie Jen!” Nicky yelled as he dashed to the entryway. Violet barreled after him, her curls bouncing wildly, shrieking a high-pitched “Aliiii! Jennnnn!” like it was a war cry.

Rio barely had time to unlock the door before the two women tumbled inside, already laughing. Alice had a beach bag over one shoulder and a towel draped around her neck like a cape. Jen followed, balancing what looked like half a sporting goods store’s pool aisle in her arms: noodles, beach balls, two inflatable rings, and at least three mesh bags full of miscellaneous toys.

“Your favorite aunties are here!” Alice announced, crouching immediately to Nicky’s level, arms wide. “Give me some love, kiddo!”

Nicky launched himself at her, nearly bowling her over with the force of his hug. “Auntie Alice, we got floaties!” he reported breathlessly. “And I’m gonna swim like a shark!”

“Of course you are,” Alice said, ruffling his hair. “Fastest shark in Westview.”

Meanwhile, Violet made a beeline for Jen, squealing again as she tried to clamber up her legs. Jen laughed, crouched down, and scooped her up swiftly. “There’s my little moonshine,” she cooed, peppering kisses on Violet’s cheeks. Violet responded by grabbing her aunt’s face with sticky hands and smushing a kiss back onto her nose.

Rio leaned against the doorframe, shaking her head with an affectionate smile. “You two look like you’re moving into the pool.”

“That’s the plan,” Jen said cheerfully, bouncing Violet on her hip. “I’m ready to stay in there until my skin prunes.”

Agatha, who had come into the hallway after hearing the commotion, arched a brow at the sight of the gear. “Did you rob a pool supply store on the way here?”

“No robbery necessary,” Alice said solmny, still hugging Nicky. “This is the result of meticulous planning and a well-timed clearance sale. Besides, can you ever have too many pool noodles?”

“Yes,” Agatha deadpanned.

Alice ignored her, pulling a bright orange noodle from the bag and holding it like a sword. “En garde, nephew!”

Nicky shrieked with laughter, immediately grabbing a cushion from the sofa and using it as a shield. “You’ll never defeat me, Auntie Alice!” he declared, swinging his dolphin toy like a weapon.

Rio groaned, but she was laughing. “Please don’t destroy the living room before we even get to the pool.”

Jen grinned, shifting Violet onto her hip so the toddler could wave her inflatable flower ring like a victory flag. “She’s already on my team,” Jen said smugly. “Auntie Jen and Violet versus Auntie Alice and Nicky. Battle of the pool.”

“Battle of who’s loudest, more like,” Agatha muttered, but her lips twitched, betraying amusement.

Rio went to help Jen unload the mountain of toys while Alice collapsed on the rug, pretending to be defeated by Nicky’s dolphin sword. Violet wiggled so hard to join them that Jen set her down, and immediately the toddler toddled into the fray, smacking Alice’s shoulder with her little inflatable ring.

“Ali!” Violet crowed—or as close to crowed as a two-year-old could manage, which came out as a proud squeaky “Aliiiiiiii!”

The entire room burst into laughter.

Alice sat up, clutching her chest in mock agony. “Not you too, Violet! Betrayed by my own niece!”

Violet giggled so hard she fell on her bottom, then scrambled up again to run straight back into Jen’s arms.

Agatha leaned against the archway, arms folded, watching the chaos with a small, fond smile. She’d never admit it aloud—at least not to Alice—but she loved how much joy these visits brought into their home. Nicky lit up around them, Violet soaked up the attention like sunlight, and Rio looked as though her heart might burst just watching her best friends fold so easily into their children’s lives.

“All right,” Rio finally said, clapping her hands to corral everyone’s energy. “Hugs, battles, noodle wars—done. Time to actually get out of the house before we’re too tired to go anywhere.”

“Fine, fine,” Alice sighed, flopping onto the couch like she’d been mortally wounded. “But only because I love you all. Otherwise I’d stay here and let the kids climb me like a jungle gym.”

“You’re still gonna let them climb you like a jungle gym at the pool,” Jen pointed out.

Alice perked up. “True. I am an excellent jungle gym.”

Nicky grabbed her hand and tugged eagerly. “Come on, Auntie Alice! You can be the shark too!”

Alice let herself be dragged, laughing, while Jen adjusted the straps of her bags and kissed Rio on the cheek. “Thanks for having us, babe. This is gonna be amazing.”

“Just try not to encourage my kids into complete chaos,” Rio teased. “Or do and see what happens.”

Jen winked. “No promises.”

The gathering of towels, sunscreen, and bags took longer than anyone intended. Nicky was bouncing in circles, his dolphin clutched under one arm like it was essential pool equipment. Violet was toddling around in her little sandals, dragging her cover-up along the floor. Agatha had already locked the back door when Nicky suddenly froze mid-bounce, eyes sparkling with a new idea.

“Mooom!” he cried, running straight up to Rio. “Can I ride with Auntie Alice and Auntie Jen?”

Rio blinked down at him, holding Violet’s hand. “What?”

“With them!” Nicky pointed toward the front door, where Alice was attempting to balance a ridiculous tower of pool noodles against her shoulder. “Please, please, pleeease? I’ll be so good!”

Alice immediately perked up. “Yes! Come with us, buddy. It’ll be epic.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ve got snacks. And music. And—” she lowered her voice conspiratorially “—probably way fewer boring rules than your moms.”

Agatha, carrying the sunscreen bag, shot who she considered her sister-in-law the flattest look imaginable. “Do not undermine us before we even leave the driveway.”

“I’m just saying,” Alice said innocently. “Our car is way cooler.”

Nicky clasped his hands together in a dramatic plea, turning his wide blue eyes on his mothers. “Please, Mama. Please, Mom. I’ll even wear my seatbelt the whole time. And I won’t yell. Much.”

Jen chuckled from behind Alice. “We actually do have an empty booster seat stashed in the trunk, but if you want him strapped safe, we can just transfer his.”

Rio glanced at Agatha, who sighed, clearly torn between wanting peace of mind and not wanting to disappoint her son. Finally, she nodded. “Fine. But only if his seat is installed properly.”

“Yessss!” Nicky whooped, punching the air like he’d won a championship. He immediately darted toward Alice, wrapping around her waist in a victory hug.

The next ten minutes devolved into the logistical ballet of moving a car seat. Agatha supervised with sharp eyes while Alice fumbled with the latch anchors, muttering about less complicated it was in the 90s.

“Left side hook—no, not like that,” Agatha instructed from above, crossing her arms.

“I know what I’m doing,” Alice insisted, yanking on the strap.

“It’s loose,” Agatha said flatly.

Alice growled. “Fine. Do it your way, Professor Car Seat.”

Jen was no help, too busy laughing as Violet shouted “No! No!” from her mothers’ car, clearly convinced she was missing something important. Rio, meanwhile, crouched down to reassure Nicky that yes, they were really letting him ride with his aunties, and yes, he’d see them at the pool right after.

Finally, the seat clicked securely into place with Agatha’s final tug. She tested it twice, gave Alice a look that said you’re hopeless but tolerated, and stepped back. “All right. He’s safe. Try not to corrupt him with whatever chaos you’ve got planned.”

Alice saluted. “Scout’s honor.”

“Again, you were never a scout,” Jen pointed out to her fiancée, opening the back door.

“Details,” Alice said breezily.

Nicky scrambled into the seat, beaming from ear to ear. “This is the best day ever!” he declared, buckling himself in with exaggerated care. “I’m a big kid now. I get to ride with my aunties!”

Alice leaned over to bump his fist. “Exactly. Cool kids’ car.”

From the other vehicle, Violet squealed indignantly. She stomped a tiny sandal against the seat, looking mutinous.

“Oh no,” Rio murmured, exchanging a glance with Agatha.

But when Jen leaned down to wave at Violet, she softened instantly, giggling as Jen blew her a kiss. “Next time, sunshine,” Jen promised. “Today it’s just me, Alice, and your big brother.”

Satisfied—for the moment—Violet turned back to Rio’s lap and asked for her water sippy cup.

With both cars finally loaded, Agatha slid into the driver’s seat of theirs, Rio buckling Violet into her spot with efficient speed. From the other car came the sound of music starting up—Alice had wasted no time blasting an upbeat tune. Nicky’s voice rang out over it, loud and joyful, “To the pool!”

Rio and Agatha exchanged exasperated, affectionate smiles before Agatha started the engine.

“Ready, love?” Agatha asked softly.

Rio glanced at Violet in the back, who was happily babbling to her inflatable flower, then at the other car where their son was practically vibrating with excitement. She squeezed Agatha’s hand.

“Ready.”

The two cars pulled up to Wanda’s house almost at the same time, Nicky’s car blasting music from Alice’s phone, while Agatha’s car was calm save for Violet’s occasional “ba-ba-ba!” as she sang to herself. The moment the doors opened, both kids bolted out—Nicky clutching his dolphin float like a prized treasure, Violet wobbling down the path with her cover-up flapping behind her.

The Maximoff garden was bathed in sunlight, the pool shimmering blue, surrounded by neatly arranged lounge chairs and a couple of bright umbrellas already open. Even from here, it was obvious Wanda and Vision had thought of everything: towels folded neatly in a basket, a cooler tucked in the shade, and—most importantly for Nicky—a couple of the twins’ water guns and pool toys scattered on the deck.

“Whoa!” Nicky exclaimed, running straight for the pile of toys. “Mom, look! They left us more weapons!” He picked up a neon green squirt gun, held it aloft, and cackled in delight.

Rio laughed, setting down the bag she carried. “Oh, great. That’s going to end well.”

“Of course they thought of everything,” Agatha murmured, lowering her sunglasses as she looked over the perfectly prepared garden. “Trust Wanda to organize a pool day even when she isn’t here.”

Before she could say more, Violet spotted the glimmering water. Her eyes went wide, and she let out a squeal of pure excitement. “Wawa!” she shouted, and without hesitation, she started toddling full speed toward the edge of the pool.

“Violet!” Rio started, too far behind to catch her.

Agatha’s heart lurched. In two strides she was there, scooping Violet up just before her tiny legs could propel her into the water. She pressed the little girl against her chest, breath caught in her throat. “Oh, sweetheart,” Agatha exhaled, voice a little shaky despite her calm demeanor. “Not like that. Not without Mama and Mom.”

Violet blinked up at her with no understanding of the danger, then giggled and patted Agatha’s cheek as if to say she was being dramatic.

“Good reflexes,” Alice said, tossing a bag of snacks onto a chair. “Kid nearly gave me a heart attack, and I don’t even have kids.”

Jen whistled. “Guess we know who’s going to keep us on our toes today.”

Agatha kissed Violet’s temple firmly before setting her down again—this time holding her hand firmly until Rio arrived, wide-eyed and a little pale.

“God, my heart stopped,” Rio admitted, brushing a hand over Violet’s curls. “No more running, little love. You scared Mommy.”

Violet only squealed again, unrepentant, pointing to the water as if reminding them of the whole point of coming here.

With the near-crisis averted, they all started setting up camp. Towels spread on the lounge chairs, bags tucked safely out of splash range, sunscreen lined up like soldiers. Alice and Jen immediately kicked off their shorts, revealing mismatched but colorful swimsuits, and plopped down on chairs like they were at a resort.

Agatha placed their bag carefully beneath one umbrella before shrugging off her cover-up. She revealed a deep purple bikini, elegant and structured, the color catching the light against her pale skin. She adjusted the strap absentmindedly, then glanced over her shoulder to ask Rio something—only to find her wife standing there frozen, eyes wide.

Rio had stopped mid-motion, halfway through folding her sundress onto the chair, and was just staring.

Agatha arched a brow. “What?”

Rio’s lips curved, her voice dropping into that husky register that always made Agatha’s stomach flip. “You. In that bikini.”

Agatha smirked faintly, pretending not to be flustered. “It’s just swimwear, love.”

“No,” Rio said, shaking her head, eyes roving over her slowly. “It’s a weapon. And it’s very unfair you expect me to survive this afternoon.”

Alice groaned loudly from her chair. “Oh my god, they’ve started already. Do you see Jen and I doing that?”

Jen laughed. “Honestly, I was betting it would happen within the first five minutes. Pay up. Also you look hot too darling. But I’m saving it for later, like a civilized person.”

Rio ignored them, still making unabashed heart-eyes at her wife. She stepped closer, letting her fingertips brush lightly against Agatha’s bare arm. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

Agatha leaned down, lips brushing Rio’s ear. “If I were, you’d be dead already.”

Rio flushed hotly, laughing under her breath, and darted away before Agatha could say more, pretending to busy herself with looking for her sunglasses in her bag.

Violet, meanwhile, was squirming impatiently as Agtaha caught her once again, pointing fiercely at the pool. “Mama! Wim!”

“Patience, darling,” Agatha soothed, though she felt Rio’s lingering gaze like sunlight on her skin.

The garden was alive with energy now: Alice already planning some ridiculous “pool games,” Nicky preparing for “battle” with his new water gun, Violet demanding immediate immersion, and Rio caught somewhere between laughing at the chaos and stealing every possible glance at her wife.

But the real chaos began with sunscreen.

Alice popped the cap on the kid-friendly bottle with the enthusiasm of someone about to perform a magic trick. “Alright, troops! Auntie Alice is here to keep you from turning into lobsters.”

Jen was already kneeling in front of Nicky, squeezing some onto her palm. “C’mere, squirt. We’re gonna armor you up.”

“I want a tattoo!” Nicky declared, thrusting out his arm proudly. “Like a dragon, or a shark. Not just boring rub, rub, rub.”

Alice grinned. “Oh, I can do that. Hold still.” She swiped a stripe of white lotion across his bicep like a messy armband. “Bam. Instant warrior.”

Nicky beamed, clearly impressed. “Mom! Look! It’s like paint!” He flexed dramatically, though it was impossible to take him seriously with globs of sunscreen dripping down.

Rio laughed, settling on a lounge chair with Violet squirming in her lap. “You’re gonna look like a popsicle stick warrior at this rate.”

Meanwhile, Violet was having none of it. Agatha dabbed a little sunscreen on her arm, and Violet immediately bent down and licked it.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake—” Agatha tried to hold her hand still, but Violet only giggled and went in for another taste.

“Ew!” Alice cackled. “Kid’s eating sunscreen!”

“It’s not food, sweetheart,” Agatha scolded gently, wiping her tiny mouth. “That’s not what it’s for.”

Violet, undeterred, opened her mouth wide like a baby bird, clearly expecting another “bite.”

Jen shook her head. “She thinks it’s yogurt.”

Rio sighed, brushing a kiss against Violet’s temple. “We’re not going to win this battle.” She rummaged in the cooler Wanda had left them, pulling out one of the tiny fruit popsicles. “Here. A trade.”

Violet’s eyes lit up immediately. She took the popsicle with both hands and started gnawing at it with little happy grunts, entirely distracted now while Agatha quickly slathered lotion across her arms and legs.

“Brilliant,” Alice said, impressed. “Bribery always works.”

Rio shot her a look. “Not bribery. Strategy.”

Once the little girl was covered, Agatha picked up another bottle and turned to her wife. “Your turn.”

Rio raised a brow. “I already put some on earlier.”

“Not enough,” Agatha countered, firm as always. She gestured for her to turn around. “Back. Now.”

Rio obeyed with an exaggerated sigh, perching on the edge of the lounge chair and turned around. Agatha spread the cool lotion across her already golden-tanned back, fingers slow and thorough, lingering just enough to make Rio shiver.

“Mhm,” Rio murmured, glancing sideways at her. “If you keep touching me like that, I’m not sure I’ll make it to the pool.”

Agatha smirked faintly, leaning down to murmur in her ear, “Consider it a bonus of good skincare.”

Alice groaned dramatically from her chair. “Can you two not turn sunscreen into flirting?”

Jen chuckled. “Bet they can’t.”

Rio twisted around, grabbing the bottle from Agatha. “Your turn, pale goddess.”

Agatha lifted her chin with dignity but still sat obediently and tugged her braid over one shoulder as Rio smoothed sunscreen over her shoulders and down her arms. Her fingers lingered just as Agatha’s had, a loving touch that made Agatha close her eyes briefly. By the time Rio was done, Agatha’s porcelain skin gleamed under the sun, safe from any hint of burn.

“There,” Rio said softly, kissing the tip of her shoulder. “Perfect.”

“Flirting,” Alice accused.

“Moisturizing,” Rio shot back with a grin.

With both moms and kids coated in varying degrees of sunscreen, it was time for the floaties. That, too, became an ordeal.

“Arms in, buddy,” Jen said as she wrestled Nicky into his goldfish floatie. He wriggled like an eel, laughing the whole time. “I can do it myself!” he protested, only to stick his arm too far and nearly trap himself.

“Sure you can,” Alice said, helping straighten it out. “But we’d like to swim today, not tomorrow.”

Meanwhile, Rio and Agatha double-teamed Violet, who was trying to squirm away with sticky popsicle hands. Agatha held her steady while Rio slipped the little pink floatie around her chest, fastening the straps snugly. Violet squawked in protest until Agatha tickled her under the chin, which made her dissolve into giggles.

“Safe and secure,” Agatha murmured, tugging on the buckles one last time. “No daring escapes today.”

Violet slapped the floatie proudly with her tiny hand, as if she’d earned a medal.

Finally, both kids stood there in full gear: Nicky grinning in his goldfish “water wings”, Violet toddling around in her pink floatie, popsicle still melting over her fingers.

Nicky was bouncing so much that his floaties squeaked every time he moved. He was practically vibrating in place, his toes curled at the very edge of the pool deck, arms windmilling for balance.

“Mom, Mama, can I go in now? Pleasepleaseplease!” His voice rose into that high, desperate pitch that made Rio laugh despite herself.

Agatha gave him a sharp, assessing look, the same one she used on her students when they claimed they had done the homework. She tugged gently at his floaties, made sure they were tight, and smoothed a strand of hair away from his forehead. “Floaties secure. Goggles on. Nicky, are you ready to show us you remember all the rules?”

“Yes!” He saluted with both hands at once, nearly toppling over in his excitement. “No running, no diving in the shallow part, no pushing, no drinking the water—”

“And?” Agatha prompted, raising a brow.

“And listen to the adults. I know, Mama.” He groaned, already bouncing backward into a little hop that nearly launched him into the pool without permission.

Rio, watching from her seat on the edge, called out, “And no splashing Violet!”

Nicky shot her a mischievous grin. “No promises!”

Before anyone could scold, he leapt. With a loud sploosh, he disappeared under the surface, a geyser of water drenching Alice and Jen where they stood nearby. Violet squealed in Agatha’s arms, startled, then let out a delighted giggle at the spray.

“Nicholas!” Agatha scolded, though the corners of her lips betrayed a smile.

He resurfaced a second later, spitting water and pushing his goggles up. “Did you see that? Did you see my superhero splash?!”

Alice snorted, flicking water out of her eyes. “Kid nearly drowned me, is what I saw.”

“Again!” Nicky declared, immediately launching into a very serious swim across the shallow end. His arms churned with chaotic energy, legs kicking like propellers. He made loud sound effects the whole way—“Whoosh! Pow! Super-dolphin attack!”—then popped up proudly. “Did you see, Mama? Fish superhero moves!”

Agatha’s expression softened, her pride unmistakable. “I saw, darling. Very impressive.”

Rio clapped her hands from the edge. “Our little sea creature!”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He immediately started demonstrating every half-remembered “technique” he’d picked up from lessons: belly flops that barely qualified as dives, underwater bubble-blowing, and even floating dramatically on his back as if he were a starfish in distress.

Alice and Jen couldn’t resist. With twin whoops, they dropped their towels and leapt into the pool after him, sending another round of splashes over everyone in range.

“Tag, you’re it!” Alice shouted, tapping Nicky’s shoulder before darting away with a messy freestyle stroke.

Nicky shrieked and gave chase, splashing water with every stroke. Jen swam just ahead of him, letting him almost catch her before pulling away at the last second. The three of them dissolved into chaos, circling the pool, laughing so hard the sound bounced off the water.

At one point Alice scrambled onto the pool’s edge, crouched low, then executed what could only generously be described as a “flip.” It was really more of a half-roll with a flail of limbs before she splashed back down.

Everyone gasped—Agatha out of alarm, Rio out of instinctive fear—then burst into laughter when Alice resurfaced, triumphant.

“Did you see that?” Alice crowed, pushing wet hair out of her face. “Olympics, here I come!”

“Disqualified for style,” Jen teased, flicking water at her fiancée.

Nicky’s eyes were huge, shining with admiration. “That was awesome! Do it again!”

Alice bowed deeply, nearly swallowing water as she did. “For my number one fan? Absolutely.”

On the edge, Rio had her arms wrapped around her knees, her toes dangling just above the water. She smiled at the antics but didn’t move closer, her chest tightening at the thought of sliding in herself. The water glimmered, tempting and terrifying all at once. She focused instead on the laughter around her, on how happy Nicky looked, on Violet’s squeals.

Agatha eased into the pool with the calm of someone who belonged there. She carried Violet carefully in her arms, the baby’s pink floatie snug around her little chest. The moment her toes touched the water, Violet gasped at the cool sensation, then giggled in pure delight.

“Alright, my darling girl,” Agatha murmured, lowering her gently so the floatie took her weight. “Let’s see what you think.”

Violet kicked immediately, splashing little arcs of water. Her face lit up as she smacked the surface with both hands, sending droplets everywhere.

Rio leaned forward, her heart swelling at the sight. “She loves it.”

“She’s a natural,” Agatha said proudly, walking her slowly across the shallow end. Violet squealed with laughter, her curls plastered damp against her forehead, her little legs pumping under the water. At one point she even bent forward and blew a messy stream of bubbles, making herself laugh harder.

“Bubbles! Look, she’s making bubbles like in the bath!” Nicky cried from across the pool. He swam over to them, grinning. “Good job, Vivi!”

Violet slapped the water in reply, nearly dousing him.

Rio laughed from her perch. “Looks like she’s competing for superhero moves too.”

Agatha tilted her head up at her wife, catching her eye with a knowing look. “The water’s lovely, Rio.”

Rio gave a wobbly smile. “Maybe… later.”

Agatha didn’t push. She only adjusted Violet in her arms and floated them both gently, letting the little girl squeal and splash while keeping her safe. Around them, Alice and Jen darted like overgrown kids, Nicky chasing them with endless energy, his laughter ringing across the garden.

Nicky swam up beside Agatha and Violet, his floaties bobbing as he pushed water furiously behind him. His goggles were slightly crooked now, but he didn’t care—his eyes were locked on his baby sister, who was busy slapping the water and squealing like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“Okay, Vivi,” Nicky said in a mock-serious voice, puffing his chest out, “it’s time for serious swimming lessons. You gotta learn the real moves.”

Violet blinked at him, then tried to grab his goggles, giggling when he squeaked and swam backwards out of reach.

Agatha smirked, adjusting her grip on Violet’s floatie so her daughter wouldn’t tip forward. “She seems quite happy with splashing, Nicholas.”

“No, Mama! She has to learn,” Nicky insisted, flailing his arms in a demonstration. “Look, Vivi—kick your legs like this! Kick, kick, kick!” He demonstrated wildly, sending up a spray of water that smacked Agatha across the chest.

“Darling,” she said dryly, wiping droplets from her face, “mind the splashing.”

Violet, however, thought this was the funniest thing she’d ever seen. She squealed so loud it startled a dove out of the nearby tree and then smacked her feet against the water as if trying to copy him. Her little legs kicked hard, not coordinated at all, but determined.

“See? She’s doing it! She’s doing it!” Nicky crowed, circling them in delight. “That’s it, Vivi, kick like me! We’re dolphins!”

Violet gave another delighted squeal, smacking both legs at once, nearly toppling forward. Agatha caught her immediately, one hand sliding under the floatie to steady her.

“Careful, my love,” she murmured against Violet’s wet curls. “Mama won’t let you fall, don’t worry.”

The baby didn’t seem concerned at all—she tried to lean forward again, as if determined to launch herself fully into the water like her brother.

Rio, watching from the poolside, laughed helplessly. “She’s fearless, that one. Barely two years old and she’s already trying to swim across the pool.”

“She’s going to give me gray hair faster than Nicky ever did,” Agatha muttered, but her eyes were warm as she kissed Violet’s temple. “Little siren.”

Meanwhile, Nicky had decided it was time for “advanced lessons.” He floated onto his back, paddling furiously. “Okay, Vivi, you gotta do this. See? Arms out, legs moving—like this!” He looked like a starfish stuck on his back, kicking furiously.

Violet kicked harder in her floatie, squealing louder, her hands slapping the water. Every time she splashed herself in the face, she gasped in surprise, then immediately giggled again, ready for more.

“She really is a water baby,” Jen said from where she and Alice were lounging at the other side of the pool, catching their breath from playing tag with Nicky. “Like, some kids hate it at this age, but she’s all in.”

“She’s obsessed,” Rio agreed, smiling soft. “Bath time’s her favorite part of the day. This is basically bath time deluxe for her.”

Nicky swam up again, determined. “Mama, let her float next to me! I’ll hold her hand. I’ll teach her the dolphin swim.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “The dolphin swim?”

“Yes! Like this!” He dove under water and wiggled his body dramatically, making exaggerated dolphin noises when he popped back up. “See? Easy! Vivi can do it!”

Violet squealed, smacking the water so hard droplets flew right into Agatha’s face.

“Marvelous,” Agatha deadpanned, though her lips twitched in amusement. “Unfortunately, your sister is not yet aquatic in the same way you are.”

“She’ll learn!” Nicky said with unshakable conviction. “She’s already the best baby swimmer in the whole world.”

Agatha shifted Violet slightly, letting her float alongside her brother while keeping a firm grip on her floatie. Violet reached out with her chubby little hand and patted Nicky’s cheek, as if in agreement.

Rio melted on the poolside. “Oh, look at them. My two little fishes.”

Nicky puffed up with pride. “No—two dolphins! We’re a dolphin team, Mommy!”

“Then what does that make me?” Agatha asked, guiding Violet gently so she wouldn’t topple when she tried to copy her brother’s kicks again.

“You’re the… big mama dolphin,” Nicky declared without hesitation. “The one who keeps the babies safe!”

Agatha chuckled. “I suppose I can accept that title.”

“And Mommy,” Nicky added, glancing at his other mom with an impish grin, “is the beach turtle. Because she doesn’t go in the water yet, but she’s really cool.”

Rio burst into laughter. “A sea turtle, huh? I’ll take it.”

Violet squealed again, this time blowing bubbles into the water with her mouth again. The moment the bubbles popped, she gasped and clapped her hands together, thrilled by her own discovery. Nicky clapped too, encouraging her.

“Good job, Vivi! You’re so smart! You’re gonna be swimming with me in no time.” He looked up at Agatha, grinning. “See? She’s learning already.”

Agatha gave him a fond smile. “You’re a very good teacher, Nicholas.”

The little boy’s chest swelled with pride, and he swam another circle around them, still narrating “lessons” in his superhero-dolphin voice while Violet tried, with every ounce of toddler determination, to copy him—even if all it really meant was splashing and kicking with abandon.

And through it all, Agatha kept her steady hands on the baby, making sure her head never dipped below the surface, holding her upright and safe, while Rio watched with shining eyes from the poolside.

After a good while of splashing and laughter, Agatha felt Violet’s little body grow heavy against her shoulder—the telltale sign that her youngest was wearing herself out, even if her giggles insisted otherwise. Gently, she shifted toward the shallow end, where Jen had been lounging with Alice in the shallow part.

“Would you mind holding her for a bit?” Agatha asked, already smoothing damp curls off Violet’s forehead.

Jen sat up straighter immediately, arms out like she’d been waiting for this moment. “Are you kidding? Hand me that water sprite.”

Violet went into Jen’s arms without complaint, distracted almost instantly by the necklace glinting around her aunt’s neck. “Mine!” She tugged it with all her toddler strength, and Jen winced, laughing. “She’s got quite the grip!”

“That she does,” Agatha said dryly, brushing a few droplets of water from her shoulder. “Be careful, she has no mercy.”

Alice had slipped into the pool beside Jen, making silly faces at Violet, which set the little girl giggling again. With both aunties doting on her, Violet was more than entertained.

Agatha turned then, her sharp gaze landing on her wife, who was still perched on the pool’s edge, dangling her legs into the water and pretending to be absorbed in conversation with Nicky. Rio had cheered Nicky and Violet on with gusto, but hadn’t once taken the plunge.

Agatha swam closer, her purple bikini glinting in the bright sun. “Your turn, love,” she said, her voice soft but purposeful.

Rio blinked, suddenly wary. “My turn for what?”

“To get in.”

“Oh, no,” Rio said quickly, shaking her head and pulling her legs up. “Nope. I’m perfectly happy cheering from the sidelines. Sea turtle, remember?”

Agatha smirked, placing her hands on the pool’s edge on either side of Rio’s legs, peering up at her wife with eyes that glimmered like a mix between the sea and the sky. “Sea turtles swim, Rio Dear. Quite gracefully, in fact.”

Rio wrinkled her nose. “I don’t… swim.”

“Then it’s high time you learned.”

There was no mockery in Agatha’s tone—only calm assurance. Still, Rio’s heart hammered. The water was deeper than it looked from the edge, and the idea of not feeling solid ground beneath her feet sent a nervous shiver down her spine.

“I’ll sink,” she muttered.

Agatha’s lips curved into a knowing, patient smile. “Not if I’m with you.”

For a moment, Rio only stared, caught in the steady warmth of her wife’s gaze. Nicky’s laughter carried over from the other side of the pool, where he was still practicing dolphin flips, and Violet’s squeals echoed as she tried Alice’s sunglasses on. This was safety. This was family.

With a deep breath, Rio slid forward and let herself drop into the water. The coolness shocked her skin, and instinctively, she flailed, immediately reaching out. Agatha was already there, steady and firm, wrapping her arms around Rio’s waist.

“I’ve got you,” Agatha murmured, her lips brushing the shell of Rio’s ear.

Rio clung, nails pressing lightly into her wife’s shoulders, her heart pounding. “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” Agatha promised, stroking her back once. Then, with a teasing glint, “You can’t escape me in the water, Rio. I will rescue you every time.”

That earned a shaky laugh out of Rio, loosening her grip slightly.

“Good girl,” Agatha praised softly. “Now, let’s start simple. Hold onto me, and just let yourself float.”

“That sounds like drowning.”

“It’s the opposite,” Agatha countered. “Look—watch me.”

She leaned back, her body long and graceful, lying on the water’s surface as if it were silk. She barely moved, only the faintest ripples around her, her long hair spreading like a dark halo. She looked so effortlessly serene that Rio’s breath caught in admiration.

“See? The water holds you if you let it. You just have to trust it.”

Rio swallowed, biting her lip. “Trusting water feels like a bad plan.”

“Trust me then.”

That did it. With a deep exhale, Rio let her body tilt back, her hands clutching Agatha’s. For a terrifying second, she thought she would sink, but Agatha’s calm presence steadied her with a hand under her back. And then… it wasn’t so bad. The water cradled her.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Oh. I’m… floating?”

“Yes,” Agatha said, her smile soft with pride. “You are.”

Rio’s lips curled slowly, wonder in her eyes. “I’m doing it!”

“You are,” Agatha echoed, squeezing her hands. “Now, just a little kick. Nothing dramatic.”

Rio obeyed, her legs scissoring gently, sending her forward. She gasped, half laughing. “I’m moving!”

“Of course you are,” Agatha said, guiding her. “See? You belong here as much as anyone else.”

Bit by bit, Rio loosened her grip, until finally, Agatha coaxed her to let go for a few seconds. Rio panicked the moment she realized their hands weren’t linked, but to her astonishment, she stayed afloat.

“I did it! I didn’t sink!” she exclaimed, voice loud with excitement.

“Bravo, love.” Agatha clapped lightly, her eyes gleaming. “You’re braver than you think.”

Rio’s chest swelled, pride and relief bubbling inside her. Emboldened, she asked, “Okay… what’s next?”

Agatha grinned. “Next, you put your head under.”

Rio froze. “Nope.”

“Yes,” Agatha teased. “Just for a second. Close your mouth, blow bubbles, then come back up. I’ll be right here. Like in the bathtub.”

It took coaxing, gentle encouragement, and a lot of Rio squeezing Agatha’s fingers so tightly her knuckles turned white. But eventually, with one final breath, Rio dunked her head under.

The world went muffled and cool, bubbles fizzing past her cheeks. She popped back up with a gasp, water dripping from her hair and lashes, blinking at her wife.

“I did it!” she cried again, laughter spilling out of her like sunshine.

Agatha cupped her face, pride radiant in her smile. “You did, my love. Perfectly.”

Rio grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. For the first time, the pool didn’t feel like an enemy—it felt like freedom. And she knew it was because Agatha was there, steady and certain, keeping her safe every single second.

She was still laughing breathlessly from her triumphant head-under moment when a little shadow zipped across the water toward her.

“Mama! Mom!” Nicky’s voice rang with urgency as he paddled over, splashing water everywhere. His hair stuck in chaotic spikes, and his floaties bobbed as if they were trying to keep up with his boundless energy.

Agatha raised an eyebrow as he latched onto her arm. “Yes, soldier?”

Nicky pushed his wet hair from his forehead and announced with great seriousness, “I have to learn with Mom too. It’s important. I need to perfect my moves, so I will learn with you both. Together. Team training.”

Rio blinked, still clinging lightly to Agatha’s hand. “Team training?”

“Exactly.” He nodded with a gravity that would’ve been comical if not for how earnestly he believed it. “If Mom learns, then I learn even better. And then I’ll be strong enough to protect all of us. From sharks. And pirates. And pool monsters.”

Agatha pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “Ah, I see. This is advanced curriculum.”

“Super advanced,” Nicky agreed. “Like college for dolphins.”

Rio’s shoulders shook as she tried to stifle her giggles. “College for dolphins?”

“Yes! And Mama’s the professor.” Nicky pointed at Agatha. “So she has to teach both of us, and we’ll be the best dolphins in the whole ocean.”

Agatha gave a regal nod. “Very well. Class is in session.”

With that, she repositioned Rio and Nicky so they were side by side, both holding onto the edge of the pool. “First lesson: kicking. Nice and steady. Not splashing your partner.”

Nicky immediately started thrashing like a speedboat, water flying into Rio’s face. She sputtered, wiping her eyes.

“Nicky!” Rio gasped. “That’s… not steady!”

“I’m powering up!” Nicky explained, completely sincere.

Agatha tapped his floatie lightly. “Powering up is excellent, but remember—control is the true power.”

Nicky paused, eyes wide, as if she had just revealed the wisdom of the ages. “Control… is power,” he repeated reverently. Then he adjusted his kicks, surprisingly smooth this time, and grinned at his moms. “Like that?”

“Perfect,” Agatha praised, giving his curls a quick ruffle. “See, love? You’re already teaching Mom by example.”

Rio kicked more cautiously, feeling proud when she stayed afloat without clutching too hard at the pool edge. “Look at me, Nicky, I’m doing it too.”

He beamed. “We’re both dolphins now!”

From the shallow end, Jen’s voice chimed in. “Hey, dolphin boy! Think you can share some of those water superpowers with me?”

Nicky whipped around, scandalized. “No! I’m busy protecting my family and learning how to swim like a real dolphin. I can’t just give my powers away. That’s dangerous.”

Alice, sitting on the pool steps beside Violet, burst out laughing. “Jen, don’t distract the hero. He has responsibilities.”

Jen raised her hands in surrender, grinning. “Fine, fine. But if a pool monster comes, don’t say I didn’t ask to help.”

“There won’t be a pool monster,” Nicky declared firmly, puffing out his chest. “Because I’m here.”

Rio’s heart swelled at how serious he was, even as she and Agatha exchanged amused glances.

“Alright, dolphins,” Agatha said, her voice commanding but playful. “Next exercise: blowing bubbles under water, like Vivi earlier. Take a deep breath, dip your face, blow, and up again.”

Nicky plunged his whole face in without hesitation, cheeks puffing as bubbles streamed out in wild bursts. He popped back up with a triumphant shout. “See?! Easy!”

Rio hesitated, nerves fluttering. But Nicky leaned close, encouraging. “Come on, Mom. You can do it. Just blow like you’re playing the trumpet!”

Rio laughed. “I don’t play the trumpet. I play the drums.”

“Then pretend! It works!”

She glanced at Agatha, who gave her a reassuring nod. So Rio bent forward, dunked her face, and blew out carefully. When she came back up, Nicky clapped, water spraying everywhere from his enthusiastic slaps against the surface.

“You did it! You’re a bubble dolphin now!”

“Bubble dolphin?” Rio asked, laughing, wiping her eyes.

“Yeah, there are different kinds,” Nicky explained seriously, updating his earlier roll call. “I’m a superhero dolphin. You’re a bubble dolphin. Mama’s the professor dolphin. And Violet’s a baby splash dolphin.”

Agatha chuckled lowly. “What a distinguished family we are.”

They continued like that, Agatha turning every new technique into a small game: “who can glide the farthest,” “who can blow bubbles the longest,” “who can float like a starfish.” Nicky threw himself into each challenge with determination, often showing off dramatically, while Rio steadily gained confidence beside him.

At one point, Nicky splashed close, lowering his voice like it was a secret. “Don’t worry, Mom. Even if you sink a little, I’ll save you too. I’m strong enough now.”

Rio’s throat tightened with affection. She smoothed back his wet curls, kissing the top of his head. “Thank you, my superhero.”

Agatha, watching them, smiled softly before declaring, “Break time, dolphins. Let’s check on our splash baby while she conquers the shallow end.”

Together, the three of them swam back toward Alice and Jen, where Violet was happily banging her tiny palms against the water like it was her personal drum. Nicky immediately started demonstrating dolphin jumps in the shallow water for her, determined to show his baby sister how it was done.

And though Rio’s muscles trembled from the effort, she felt lighter than she had in years—because she wasn’t just learning to swim. She was learning, in the best company, how to be brave in something unknown.

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Chapter Text

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After all the splashing and laughter, the pool grew calmer as the sun got higher in the sky. They’d all earned a bit of a break. Agatha coaxed Violet out of the water, the baby yawning even as she rubbed her wet fists across her eyes. By the time Agatha had her wrapped in a soft towel and settled on her chest, Violet was already half-asleep, her damp curls sticking to her forehead. Agatha lowered herself onto one of the lounge chairs beneath the big striped umbrlla, sighing with satisfaction as she stretched out. The shade was cool and the gentle weight of Violet’s tiny body was comforting, like an anchor of peace.

Rio, of course, was not yet in a peaceful state. She and Alice had gathered around a second lounge chair, towels wrapped loosely around their shoulders, and were midway through a card game that was less about rules and more about chaos.

“No, no, no!” Rio cried, slapping her card down with dramatic flair. “That absolutely counts. Don’t you dare argue with me, Alice.”

Alice squinted at the pile of mismatched cards between them. “Rio, you can’t put down a three of spades on a queen of hearts. That’s not how anything works. You’re making up an entirely new game.”

“That’s because I’m a visionary,” Rio shot back, flipping her damp hair over her shoulder like a diva. “It’s called Chaotic Queens. Look it up.”

Alice groaned, but she was laughing, shaking her head. “You just want to win every round.”

“And I will win every round,” Rio said, narrowing her eyes in mock challenge. “Even if I have to invent the rules as we go.”

Agatha, eyes half-lidded, gave a soft chuckle from her chair. She smoothed her hand over Violet’s back, who let out a tiny sigh in her sleep. “You two sound like a pair of twelve-year-olds at summer camp.”

“Exactly,” Alice replied, tossing a card dramatically at Rio. “That’s the energy.”

Meanwhile, Jen had stationed herself at the edge of the pool, her feet dangling in the cool water as she watched Nicky play in the shallow part. He had found another squirt dolphin toy that the twins had left behind and was narrating an entire underwater adventure for it and his own dolphin toy.

“Okay, Mr. Dolphin,” he said, holding it up with great seriousness. “We are about to fight the evil water dragon. Don’t be scared. We can do it together.”

He dunked the dolphin under the water, made it squirt a powerful jet stream, then leaped back as if narrowly avoiding some imaginary monster attack. Jen laughed, clapping lightly.

“You’ve got it, Nicky! That dragon doesn’t stand a chance,” she cheered.

Nicky brightened at the encouragement, puffing out his chest as he sent another triumphant stream of water into the air. “See? I told you! Super dolphin powers! Mama said I’m the strongest dolphin in the ocean.”

Jen glanced over at Agatha with a grin. “That true, Professor Dolphin?”

Agatha smirked, her eyes still closed as she rocked Violet absently. “Without question. His technique is unmatched.”

Rio, who was trying to hide a grin while battling Alice in their card chaos, added, “And he’s teaching me. I’m a bubble dolphin now. Nicky’s honorary sidekick.”

At that, Nicky spun around in the water, beaming. “Yes, you are! But you’re still learning. You can’t beat water dragons yet. You have to practice more.”

“Gee, thanks, coach,” Rio muttered with mock indignation, flicking a card at Alice, who yelped and flicked one back.

The air was filled with warmth, laughter, and the lazy buzz of cicadas. The scent of sunscreen clung to their skin, mingling with chlorine and the faint perfume of flowers from Wanda’s garden. It was the perfect blend of late summer chaos and calm.

Alice suddenly let out a victorious yell, slamming a card down. “Ha! I win this round. Admit it.”

Rio gasped, refocusing on the game. “Impossible! That was an illegal move!”

“Illegal? You literally just made up a rule ten minutes ago that let you put down two sevens and call it a royal flush.”

“That was strategy, not cheating!” Rio argued, though she was already laughing to hard to sound convincing.

Jen shook her head, amused, and dipped her fingers into the water to flick a few drops in their direction. “You two are ridiculous.”

“We’re visionaries,” Alice corrected, sticking her tongue out.

Rio nodded sagely. “Exactly. Card-game revolutionaries.”

Agatha finally opened her eyes, lifting her head just enough to look over at them. Her expression was fond but teasing. “More like disasters. Honestly, I’m not sure which of you is worse.”

Rio pressed a hand to her heart, feigning offense. “Me? Your wife? Worse than Alice?”

“Yes,” Agatha said smoothly, stroking Violet’s back as the baby snuffled in her sleep. “But only in the most charming way possible.”

Alice laughed, while Rio stuck her tongue out at Agatha, her cheeks flushed with affection even as she tried to keep up the indignation.

Nicky, still in his own world, shouted suddenly, “The dragon is defeated! The dolphins win again!” He lifted his squirt toy triumphantly above his head, droplets raining down around him.

Jen applauded as though he’d just performed a Broadway showstopper. “Bravo, superhero dolphin!”

The shade under the umbrella was turning into their little headquarters. Violet was safe on Agatha’s chest, her tiny breaths rising and falling against Mama’s collarbone, while Agatha lazily rubbed circles into her daughter’s back. The card chaos between Rio and Alice had reached a point of no return—Rio was building some sort of leaning tower out of cards and discarded pool toys to declare herself “architect of victory”—and Jen, still dangling her legs in the water, was laughing so hard at Nicky she nearly fell in.

Finally, when the giggles subsided enough, Jen wiped at her eyes. “Okay, okay—before you two invent an entirely new board game empire, can we please talk about something real?”

Alice perked up. “Like what?”

Jen’s smile softened, her eyes darting quickly toward Rio and Agatha. “Like…the wedding.”

Immediately, Rio gasped so loudly Violet stirred in her sleep. She slapped a hand over her mouth and whispered dramatically, “The wedding.” She reached for Alice’s hand and squeezed it. “Oh my god, you finally picked a date, didn’t you? Tell me you picked a date.”

Alice grinned sheepishly. “We did.”

“Spit it out!” Rio begged, bouncing in her chair like Nicky.

Jen, clearly enjoying dragging out the suspense, finally announced, “It’s going to be this winter. Between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. We know it’s short notice, but we don’t want a huge thing, so it should be manageable. And we have contacts.”

Rio shrieked. “That’s perfect! Like, magical winter wonderland vibes. Snow, fairy lights, velvet dresses. I’m dying.” She immediately turned to Agatha, who raised an eyebrow at her wife’s dramatics. “Love, tell me you’re picturing it. Frosty trees, candles everywhere, cozy but elegant. Ugh. I’m obsessed.”

Agatha chuckled, shifting Violet slightly so the baby could stay comfortable. “Yes, yes. It does sound very fitting. And,” she turned her gaze to Jen and Alice, “you couldn’t have picked a better time. Everyone’s already together for the holidays. The air will be festive. It’ll be beautiful.”

Alice beamed. “Exactly what we thought. Plus, it feels like…a transition into the new year, you know? Like we’re walking into a new chapter.”

“That’s very poetic,” Agatha said warmly.

Rio clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling. “So it’s official—I’m maid of honor, yes?”

Jen laughed. “As if there was ever any question.”

Rio squealed again, then immediately covered her mouth as Violet stirred once more. “Oops, sorry, baby bird. Go back to sleep.” She leaned closer to Alice. “You do realize this means you’ve unleashed a monster, right? I’m about to be the most extra maid of honor in the history of weddings.”

Alice groaned good-naturedly. “I’m both excited and terrified.”

“Good. That’s the correct reaction,” Rio said smugly. Then she leaned forward, eyes narrowing like a schemer. “Now let’s talk aesthetics. Do you want classic winter—deep reds, golds, pine greenery—or are we going chic and modern? Silver and icy blues? Or—hear me out—a jewel-tone explosion with velvet everywhere?”

Jen gave her a helpless look. “We…uh…haven’t quite decided yet.”

“That’s where I come in!” Rio declared. She reached out dramatically as if conducting an orchestra. “I’ll curate Pinterest boards so detailed they’ll make your head spin, just like you did with our wedding.”

Alice snorted. “Please do, because all we’ve figured out so far is…well, the date. And that Agatha’s officiating.”

Agatha inclined her head gracefully. “I am honored. It’s not every day one gets to marry off dear friends.”

“And the kids!” Rio reminded, pointing at her son, who was still busy in the shallow end with his squirt dolphin. “Ring bearer and flower girl duties are confirmed too. Right, Nicky?”

Nicky turned around, eyes wide. “Yep ! I still remember everything from Mom and Mama’s wedding.”

“Good, you’ll need it,” Rio said with all the solemnity in the world. “You’re one of the most important parts of the whole thing.”

He puffed out his chest, grinning ear to ear. “I won’t drop them, I promise. I’ll be the best ring guy ever.”

“And Violet,” Alice added with a grin. “Little flower girl. She can still be a forest spirit, just a winter one.”

Agatha smiled down at the bundle on her chest. “We’ll train her to scatter petals evenly…or perhaps she’ll eat them.”

“Both are iconic,” Rio said, waving a hand.

The group smiled, picturing Violet gleefully chomping down on snow roses petals during the ceremony.

Jen leaned back on her hands, looking thoughtful. “You know…a winter wedding with snow outside, twinkle lights inside. Maybe even hot cocoa during cocktail hour.”

Alice’s face lit up. “Oh, yes! Hot cocoa bar with marshmallows and candy canes.”

Rio squealed yet again. “A cocoa bar?! Oh my god, that’s genius. And cozy blankets on the chairs for people who get cold. And—Agatha, write this down—you’ll be in velvet. Dark plum velvet suit. You’ll look like a gothic winter queen. We already said you’d be the moon like Vivi.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “And what about you, love?”

“Me?” Rio leaned back smugly. “Emerald green silk dress. I’ll shine like a jewel next to you.”

Alice groaned, throwing her towel over her face. “What have we done…”

Jen laughed, shaking her head. “We’ve set the bar very high, apparently.”

Agatha only smiled, her hand resting on Violet’s back. “Don’t worry. With this family involved, your wedding will be unforgettable. Probably chaotic…but unforgettable.”

“Chaotic Queens energy,” Alice muttered from under her towel.

Rio cackled. “Exactly. It’s going to be perfect.”

The dreamy wedding chatter dissolved in an instant with a loud, unmistakable splash. Cold droplets rained down on all four adults under the umbrella, and Violet, startled from her nap on Agatha’s chest, let out a squawk of baby outrage.

“NICOLAS HARKNESS-VIDAL!” Rio screeched, leaping up from the lounge chair like a soldier on alert. Her cards flew everywhere, fluttering down into damp little piles.

Nicky was already cackling in the shallow end, his squirt dolphin held triumphantly above his head. “Got you all! Even Mama and Vivi!”

Agatha calmly shifted Violet upright, soothing her with a gentle sway. “That was not your most strategic move, darling,” she said in her low, patient voice. Violet’s tiny fists were rubbing at her eyes, confusion and crankiness mingling with her sleepy face.

“I didn’t mean to wake Vivi!” Nicky protested, guilt flashing briefly over his grin. “I just wanted to show I could splash as big as a real dolphin!”

Rio planted her hands on her hips, glaring—though her dramatic scowl melted as soon as Violet let out a hiccupping wail. “Well, you woke your sister, fish-boy. Guess what that means?”

Nicky winced. “…time to make it up to her?”

“Exactly.”

But before Agatha could hand Violet over, Rio surprised everyone by tugging off her cover-up and tossing it onto the chair. “Fine,” she declared, eyes fixed on the pool. “You’ve forced my hand. Now you must face me in the arena of the sea!”

Alice snorted, nearly choking on her water bottle. Jen hid her laughter behind her hand.

“Rio…” Agatha’s voice was half stern, half amused, “are you sure?” She could see the way her wife’s shoulders tensed, the slight hesitation lingering there—because for all her bravado, Rio had only just managed her first swimming lesson earlier.

But Rio squared her jaw and stepped toward the steps of the pool. “Yes. I’m going in. On my own. To play with my son.”

Nicky, already vibrating with excitement, pumped his fists. “YES! Mommy’s gonna be a mermaid with me!”

Agatha smiled softly despite herself. She adjusted Violet on her hip and leaned over to brush a kiss against Rio’s temple as she passed. “Be careful, my loves. Stay in the shallow end, and I’ll keep an eye on both of you.”

Rio gave her a cheeky wink to mask the nerves that still fluttered in her chest. “You won’t even need to rescue me this time.”

And with that, she waded into the pool. The water lapped cool and high around her thighs, then her waist, and finally her ribs. She felt her heartbeat pick up, but she forced herself to keep moving until she was beside Nicky, who was already bouncing with impatience.

“Mom, ready? We’re gonna play mermaids!”

Rio laughed, her tension easing with his joy. “Alright, little guppy. Show me what mermaids do.”

Nicky puffed his cheeks, then launched forward in a half-swim, half-crawl, pretending his dolphin toy was pulling him along. “Mermaids kick their tails like THIS!” He splashed his legs together furiously, sending water everywhere.

Rio copied him, her kicks less powerful but enough to make him shriek with delight. “Look at us, two ocean royals,” she said, hair clinging to her cheeks as she swished side to side.

“You’re the Queen Mermaid,” Nicky decided, pointing. “And I’m your knight! I protect the sea!”

Alice and Jen had taken Violet now, and were holding her hands gently between them on the shallow steps. The baby, still half-drowsy, perked up quickly once her toes touched the cool water. She began toddling tiny steps between them, gripping their fingers tightly, squealing whenever her feet splashed and swung her little hips.

“Look at her!” Alice cooed. “She’s actually dancing!”

“She’s definitely trying to join the mermaids,” Jen agreed, leaning down to blow bubbles that made Violet giggle and attempt to mimic her.

Agatha stood just behind them, her keen eyes never leaving either of her children—or Rio. But the sight unfolding before her filled her chest with joy: Rio laughing without hesitation as she swirled through the water, her son shrieking with delight, Violet splashing joyfully with their friends.

Back in the shallow end, Rio realized something startling after a few rounds of “mermaid knight rescue” games—she wasn’t afraid anymore. The panic that had gripped her chest in water at the beginning had dulled, replaced by steady breaths. She was holding herself upright, laughing so hard her stomach hurt, even dunking her face quickly beneath the surface to blow bubbles just to make Nicky roar with laughter.

“I can’t believe it,” Rio muttered, almost to herself as she flicked wet hair from her face.

Nicky tilted his head. “What?”

“I’m…not scared,” she said softly, almost wonderingly. Then louder, with a proud grin, “I’m swimming with you, Nicky! Like a real mermaid!”

Nicky’s grin widened to impossible proportions. “Mommy, you’re the BEST mermaid ever!” He flung himself at her, wrapping little arms around her neck. “You’re not scared ‘cause you’re super brave. Just like me.”

Rio hugged him tight, chest swelling. “Maybe you’re the one who made me brave.”

From the side, Agatha called gently, her smile tender as she held out a hand in encouragement. “See, love? I told you the water would hold you. You belong here just as much as they do.”

Rio’s eyes met hers, and with Nicky clinging to her and Violet squealing with Alice and Jen, it clicked. She wasn’t fighting the water anymore. She was part of it, part of the laughter and light shimmering across its surface.

She grinned, kissed the top of Nicky’s wet curls, and splashed him playfully. “Alright, Knight Dolphin. Let’s see who can make the biggest splash!”

Eventually, Nicky’s endless energy sputtered out into the most predictable request of all. He was halfway through another splash contest with Rio when he suddenly stopped, eyes wide. “Mama… Mom… I need a snack. Right now.”

Rio laughed, flicking droplets from her lashes. “What kind of knight abandons his queen mermaid mid-battle for a snack?”

“The hungry kind,” Nicky answered with utter seriousness, clutching his stomach. “I can’t protect the ocean on an empty tummy.”

Before Rio could reply, Alice called from under the umbrella, waving a small cooler. “I’ve got you covered, kiddo. Come on out before you waste away!”

Nicky darted toward the steps, water streaming from his little body as he scrambled out of the pool and made a beeline for his aunts.

Jen was already seated with Violet perched happily on her lap, tiny fingers tugging at the strap of her swimsuit. The baby had discovered Jen’s sunglasses and was trying valiantly to pull them off her face. “Mine!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, no you don’t, little lady,” Jen chuckled, leaning back to keep them out of reach.

Nicky didn’t even hesitate. He plopped himself right onto Alice’s lap, dripping wet, with all the careless enthusiasm of a boy who had never once considered comfort or logistics. Alice let out a squeal at the sudden splash of water across her formerly dry skin.

“Oh my god, Nicky! You’re a soggy dolphin!”

“I’m a knight dolphin,” Nicky corrected through a mouthful of the apple slice she offered him. He munched happily, leaning back against Alice as though she were his personal throne. “And knights get snacks.”

Meanwhile, Rio hadn’t budged from the water. She was still gliding along the shallow end, dipping her arms lazily through the surface, humming to herself. She didn’t want to get out of the pool. The water, which once made her chest tighten with dread, now felt like freedom.

Agatha noticed her wife’s entire demeanor was different—relaxed, glowing, almost mischievous. With Nicky out of the pool and Violet safe in Jen’s arms, Agatha decided the opportunity was too good to waste. She set aside her wrap, smoothed down her hair, and stepped gracefully into the water.

Rio turned at the gentle ripple of her entrance. Her eyes immediately softened. “Well, well, look who’s come to join me.”

Agatha glided through the water with the same effortless elegance she carried everywhere. “I couldn’t possibly let my mermaid queen drift about alone,” she murmured, sliding close until their bodies brushed.

Rio’s heart flipped. She bit her lip, teasing. “Careful, Dr. Harkness. You’ll ruin your reputation, floating around with your scandalously young wife in broad daylight.”

Agatha slipped an arm around Rio’s waist, effortlessly keeping her buoyant. “You’re thirty-two, darling, it’s not ‘scandalously young’. Besides, my reputation can withstand anything, love. Except, perhaps, you when you’re in a mood.”

Rio’s laugh melted into a sigh as Agatha drew her close, letting the water cradle them both. They floated together, slow and serene, Agatha’s hand firm at Rio’s back.

“You know,” Agatha whispered, her lips just brushing Rio’s ear, “I rather enjoy having you like this. Weightless. Dependent on me to hold you steady.”

Rio shivered, though not from the water. “Are you trying to make me blush?”

“Always,” Agatha purred. Her thumb traced circles at the small of Rio’s back. “You’re even lovelier when you forget to be afraid.”

Rio flushed, her grin wicked. “If you keep talking like that, I might forget there are small children within earshot.”

Alice, who had been pretending to focus solely on handing Nicky slices of cheese, suddenly let out a scandalized gasp and burst into laughter. “Oh my god! Rio Harkness-Vidal! Did I just hear that right?”

Agatha arched a brow, utterly unbothered. “You heard nothing, Alice. Mermaids are very private creatures.”

Rio buried her face in Agatha’s shoulder, laughing uncontrollably. “You’re insufferable.”

Alice fanned herself dramatically, whispering loudly to Nicky, “Your mamas are shameless.”

Nicky, chewing contentedly, glanced toward the pool. His little face broke into a smile. “Mama’s holding Mom so nice,” he said proudly, his voice carrying with the blunt honesty only a child could have. “I like it when they’re like that.”

Alice’s mock gasp softened into something tender, and she kissed the top of his wet hair. “You’ve got the sweetest family, kiddo.”

Back in the water, Agatha ducked her head closer to Rio’s, her words meant only for her. “He’s not wrong, you know. I am holding you quite nicely.”

Rio tilted her face up, brushing a quick kiss to Agatha’s jaw, half daring, half grateful. “Don’t let go then. Ever.”

Agatha’s hand tightened at her back, her voice dropping to a whisper that carried more weight than the teasing. “Never, love. Not in the water, not anywhere.”

The two of them drifted in silence for a moment, the laughter of their friends and the chatter of their children echoing softly across the poolside. The world felt suspended: sunlight dancing on ripples, Violet’s little words floating in the air, Nicky’s crumbs falling into Alice’s lap, Rio and Agatha pressed close in their little stolen bubble.

Agatha’s hand never left Rio’s back, guiding her with the ease of someone who could command both poetry and oceans. Rio’s body pressed lightly against hers, her legs around her wife’s waist, the water carrying them just close enough that every movement turned into a brush, a spark.

“Are you aware,” Agatha whispered, her lips grazing just beneath Rio’s ear, “that you’re scandalously beautiful when you’re wet?”

Rio’s laugh cracked into a gasp, and she shoved lightly at her wife’s shoulder. “Agatha! You cannot just—say things like that with our kids right over there.”

“Ah, but I can,” Agatha purred, pressing closer, her voice still low, “because they can’t hear me, love. Only you get to enjoy how wicked this could be if we were alone.”

Rio’s cheeks warmed hotter than the sun overhead, though the cool water did nothing to help. “You’re wicked all right. If Alice hears us again, she’ll combust from second-hand scandal.”

“Let her,” Agatha murmured, sliding her hand just slightly lower along Rio’s back, not improper, but enough to make Rio bite her lip. “I want to see how many shades of red I can coax out of you before supper.”

Rio’s eyes fluttered shut as a shiver ran through her. She quickly hid her face in Agatha’s shoulder, whispering hot against her skin. “You’re lucky I can’t do anything about it here, or I’d make you blush.”

Agatha chuckled darkly, tilting Rio’s chin up so their gazes locked. “Darling, I don’t blush. Not even when you’re… very creative.”

Rio smirked, cocking a brow. “Oh, you blush. You just hide it behind that professor face. I’ve seen it.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a feline smile. “Prove it.”

“You think I won’t?” Rio whispered, mischief sparking in her eyes. She shifted, trailing her hand up Agatha’s chest in a slow, feather-light path until it rested just above her collarbone. Her thumb stroked in lazy circles, her touch deliberate.

Agatha’s breath caught, just enough that Rio caught it. Victory danced in Rio’s grin. “There it is. A crack in the great Agatha Harkness.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes playfully, though her voice softened into velvet. “Dangerous little minx. I ought to drag you under the water for that.”

Rio leaned closer, her lips barely brushing Agatha’s jaw. “Do it. I trust you to keep me safe. Even when you’re drowning me.”

For a heartbeat, the air between them sizzled with something far too illicit for the daylight and the sound of their children nearby. Agatha’s hand tightened at Rio’s waist, and she tilted her head to capture Rio’s mouth in a kiss—quick, restrained, but heated enough to leave Rio’s legs trembling against the water’s resistance.

When they broke apart, Rio hid her grin against Agatha’s shoulder, breathless. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

Agatha smoothed a wet strand of hair from her wife’s face, her voice low and husky. “I live for your trouble.”

From the deck, Nicky’s little voice suddenly cut through the air. “Mama! Don’t let Mom drown!”

Agatha threw her head back with a laugh, while Rio groaned, hiding her burning face against her wife.

“I can’t believe our son thinks you’d let me drown.”

Agatha pressed a kiss to her temple, her smile wicked. “Oh, love. He has no idea I’m the very reason you are drowning.”

Rio shoved her playfully, but her blush betrayed her. “You’re insufferable. And I love you.”

“And I,” Agatha whispered, pulling her closer, “love every delicious second of tormenting you.”

The pool was calm for a rare moment—Agatha and Rio still tangled close, the water shimmering with little ripples around them. The faint sound of shuffling on the deck caught Rio’s ear, and she pulled back from Agatha just in time to spot Violet toddling toward the edge of the pool, her little floaties fastened tight around her arms like puffed-up wings on top of her little pink vest.

Her curls were sticking out in every direction from the heat and leftover sunscreen and curling around her neck, her cheeks pink from her earlier nap. With the determined wobble of a two-year-old who had decided she was on a mission, Violet reached the edge and stood there proudly, wobbling just a little on her chubby legs.

Then she raised one hand and waved. “Mamaaaaaa! Wook!”

Both Agatha and Rio melted instantly.

Rio gasped, pressing her hand to her heart. “Oh, my love, do you see her? She’s summoning us like a tiny queen.”

Agatha chuckled, her tone indulgent and amused. “Careful, she’ll have us bowing any second.” Then, raising her voice, she swam a bit closer to the edge. “Vivi, darling, do you want to get in with us?”

Violet’s whole face lit up. “Hiiiii!” she squealed, nodding her head so hard her curls bounced. She babbled something unintelligible but enthusiastic, as if explaining exactly how she intended to join them.

“Okay, okay,” Rio said, already swimming closer with outstretched arms. “We’ll come get you, baby—”

But before either of them could reach the ledge, Violet bent her knees in a surprisingly confident crouch, giggled, and—

SPLASH!

She launched herself straight into the pool like a fearless cannonball, water exploding everywhere. Agatha and Rio yelped in unison, immediately diving forward as Violet bobbed back up, sputtering and laughing.

“Mama! Me wim!” she announced proudly, kicking her little feet like she had just crossed the English Channel.

“Oh my God,” Rio gasped, both laughing and slightly panicked as she scooped the little girl into her arms, keeping her steady above the water. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! Don’t do that to your poor moms!”

Agatha, equally surprised from the splash, pushed her soaked hair out of her face and circled around to support them both. “Bold little thing, aren’t you?” she teased, pressing a kiss to Violet’s damp curls. “Just like your brother.”

Violet squealed again, flapping her arms against the floaties. “Plash Mama! Vivi wim!” She threw her tiny hands down into the water with gusto, spraying both of her mothers in the face.

“Pffft—Vivi!” Rio sputtered, blinking the water out of her eyes but laughing too hard to be stern. “You little menace!”

Agatha leaned in closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret with her daughter. “Do it again. Mommy deserves it.”

“Agatha!” Rio swatted at her wife’s shoulder, scandalized, but Violet, thinking this was the greatest encouragement of all time, began splashing harder, giggling so wildly that it echoed across the pool.

Eventually, the three of them settled into a little floating bundle, Agatha keeping a steadying arm around both Rio and Violet. The water rocked gently around them as they drifted in a small circle.

Violet babbled happily, stringing together broken words and nonsense sounds with all the confidence of someone delivering a grand speech. “Mama… plash… fishy… Nicky… up-down-up-down… wawa!”

Rio nodded very seriously, eyes wide as if she understood every word. “Oh, really? Up and down and fishy, huh? That sounds very important.”

Agatha played along too, brushing her nose against Violet’s. “Did you see a fishy, darling? Or are you the fishy?”

“I fishy!” Violet declared, beaming, before attempting to blow bubbles in the water. She ended up mostly spitting on the surface, but both moms clapped like she’d just broken a record.

“See?” Rio whispered, holding her tighter against her chest. “She really is a water baby. She’s never this fearless on land.”

“She gets that from you,” Agatha murmured back, her voice soft and warm.

Rio blinked, surprised. “Me? I was terrified of getting in like an hour ago.”

“Yes, and you still did it,” Agatha countered smoothly. “Fearless isn’t about never being afraid, love. It’s about diving anyway.”

Rio’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she tucked her face against Violet’s curls, breathing in the scent of sunscreen and chlorine. “Our fearless little fishy,” she whispered, kissing the top of her daughter’s head.

Violet babbled again, pointing to the sky. “Mama, moon!”

Agatha followed her little finger and smiled. “That’s the sun, darling. But close enough.”

“Moon!” Violet insisted, before snuggling closer between them, as if her own word was final, then patted her chest. “Me Vivi Moon.”

And really, in that moment, neither Agatha nor Rio had any intention of correcting her further. They floated together, the three of them a tight, laughing bundle in the middle of the water, wrapped up in love, splashes, and baby babble that somehow felt like the most perfect conversation in the world.

From the shallow end, Nicky had been splashing around with his squirt dolphin again, occasionally stealing glances at his moms and baby sister bundled close together in the water. At first, he tried to pretend he wasn’t interested, kicking his feet dramatically and shooting streams of water into the air. But the more he watched them, the more his grin spread, and soon enough his dolphin toy was forgotten.

“Hey!” he suddenly called, standing up with water dripping down his face. “Wait for me! I wanna be with you guys too!”

Before either Agatha or Rio could respond, he bent his knees, gave an enthusiastic yell, and leapt into the deeper part with a huge splash. Rio shrieked, half laughing, half startled, shielding Violet with her arms as water rained down over them.

“Nicholas!” Agatha scolded, though her voice was fond, shaking droplets from her soaked hair. “Warn us next time, darling!”

Nicky popped back up, gasping with triumph, his hair plastered to his forehead. “I did warn you!” he said indignantly, paddling furiously toward them. “I said I was coming!”

Rio laughed a little, and Violet giggled too, copying her mom’s sounds. “Well, I guess he’s got us there,” Rio admitted, just as Nicky reached her and—without hesitation—latched his arms tightly around her neck, kicking his legs to stay afloat.

“Mom, hold me!” he said cheerfully, circling her shoulders like a buoy.

Rio sputtered as she sank lower under the weight. “Oh, no—Nicky, sweetie—” she tried to readjust, but Violet was already in her arms, and with Nicky hanging on, the balance tipped quickly. “You’re sinking me!”

Agatha swooped in, calm as ever, and with ease slipped her hands under Nicky’s arms. “Alright, little dolphin, up you come.” She pulled him gently from Rio, tucking him onto her own back so he could cling piggyback-style instead. “Mom’s still learning to float. Why don’t you let her keep your sister safe while I take you for a ride?”

Nicky hesitated only briefly before brightening. “Like a sea turtle?”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, amused. “If you like. You can be my shell.”

He giggled, holding on tighter as she glided them forward with strong strokes. Rio let out a grateful sigh, shifting Violet higher against her chest. With just her baby in her arms, the water didn’t pull her down so heavily. She found her rhythm again, floating steady, Violet giggling as her little feet splashed at the surface.

The four of them drifted together near the middle of the pool, forming their own little cluster. It wasn’t wild playtime anymore—just quiet, sun-dappled floating, the sound of their breathing mingling with the gentle lap of water.

Nicky rested his chin on Agatha’s shoulder, his voice dropping softer. “Mama, do you think if we stayed in here forever, we’d all turn into fish?”

Agatha tilted her head thoughtfully. “Maybe. But if we did, I’d insist on being something elegant. Like a swan.”

“No, Mama,” Nicky said firmly. “You’d be a dolphin, ‘cause you’re the best at swimming. And Mom would be a mermaid.”

Rio blinked, then smiled tone. “I accept this title,” she announced, bouncing Violet lightly in her arms.

“Yes, but I changed my mind. Mama is also a mermaid and you’re both Queens of the Ocean,” Nicky said decisively, as though there was no higher compliment. “And Vivi is a baby jellyfish. Cute but splashy.”

Violet shrieked happily at her brother’s words, babbling incoherently before smacking her floaties against the water as if in agreement. Rio smiled down at her. “A very cute jellyfish, indeed.”

They floated in easy silence for a while, their bodies close together, warmed by the sun above and cooled by the water around them. The world felt impossibly small and perfect in that moment, as though nothing existed beyond the gentle rocking of their family pod.

From the deck, Alice and Jen watched quietly, the card game long abandoned. Jen had Violet’s towel draped across her knees, though she made no move to call the baby out yet, unwilling to interrupt the scene. Alice leaned her head against Jen’s shoulder, her expression soft as she watched her friends laugh with their children.

“They’re… magic together,” Alice whispered.

Jen nodded, her eyes never leaving the four in the water. “Yeah. Like they’ve built their own little universe, just the four of them.”

Alice squeezed Jen’s hand gently. “Do you think we’ll have that too? Someday?”

Jen turned her head, studying Alice’s hopeful expression. She smiled, squeezing back. “If we want it, we will. It might look different, but…” Her gaze shifted back to Agatha, Rio, Nicky, and Violet floating like constellations tied together. “I think we’ll find our version.”

Back in the pool, Rio leaned her cheek against Violet’s wet curls, her voice hushed and filled with awe. “I think this is what happiness really feels like,” she murmured.

Agatha glanced back at her, a smile tugging at her lips, eyes warm with love. “It is,” she said simply.

Nicky squeezed tighter around her shoulders, Violet babbled a happy string of sounds, and Rio laughed quietly, her heart so full it felt like it could float on its own. Together, the four of them just… existed in the water, basking in the peace that only comes when love has completely wrapped around you.

*

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Chapter Text

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Friday evenings in the Harkness-Vidal household had a rhythm of their own, a comforting blend of chaos and calm that seemed to settle everyone into the week-end. The lamps in the living room glowed warm and golden, spilling over the rug where Nicky and Violet were completely absorbed in their latest adventure—one that featured their long-suffering family bunny, Señor Scratchy.

The rabbit had been with them for years now, and though he had mellowed somewhat with age, he remained as proud and particular as ever. Normally he spent evenings tucked into his corner of the living room with his hay and water, or lounging in his favorite spot by the bookshelf. Tonight, however, he was the center of his young humans’ world, whether he liked it or not.

Violet had him cornered, her little hands stretched out toward him as she babbled in broken but enthusiastic speech. “Bunny—bun bun! Huggy bun bun!” she announced, toddling forward with all the determination of a miniature hurricane. Her cheeks were flushed, her curls bouncing wildly as she tried to scoop him into her arms.

Señor Scratchy sat calmly, whiskers twitching, ears tilting back just slightly as if bracing for the inevitable. Violet stumbled forward and wrapped her tiny arms around his middle, squeezing him in what she clearly thought was the gentlest hug in the world. He tolerated it with the air of a seasoned veteran, eyes half-lidded, before wriggling slightly to remind her he was still his own creature.

“Vivi, careful,” Nicky instructed from beside them, sounding very much like a tiny general overseeing his troops. At almost nine, he carried himself with the kind of serious authority that made Rio bite her lip to keep from laughing. He held one of his beloved capes in his hands—red with a fraying golden trim—and was busily trying to tie it around Señor Scratchy’s shoulders.

“He needs to wear it, Vivi,” Nicky explained, his voice calm but firm as if this was the most obvious truth in the world. “He’s the hero, and he’s gotta fight Blue Dragon. Right, bunny?”

Violet let go of Señor Scratchy long enough to clap her hands together. “Bun fight! Bun fight Dwa-gonnnn!” she echoed, hopping once in place before dissolving into giggles.

The poor rabbit flicked his ears, resigned to his fate. He didn’t move when Nicky looped the cape awkwardly around his body, fastening it with a plastic clip from his toy chest. Blue Dragon had already been set up nearby, propped against the leg of the couch like a fearsome adversary.

“There!” Nicky declared proudly, stepping back to admire his work. “Now, Scratchy, you battle Blue Dragon to save the kingdom!”

For a few long seconds, Señor Scratchy actually played along—at least in the children’s eyes. He sniffed the cape, shifted a little on his paws, and hopped toward Blue Dragon with a cautious, deliberate bounce. Violet squealed in delight, clapping again. “Yay! Bun bun Dwagon!”

Rio, sprawled across the armchair with a mug of tea, snorted into her drink, her eyes dancing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this entertained without even a book or turning on the TV. “Look at him,” she murmured, half to herself. “That’s a knight if I’ve ever seen one.”

Agatha, sitting on the couch with her long legs crossed and her grading abandoned beside her, raised an eyebrow but smiled. “A very patient knight,” she said, her tone dry but affectionate.

But even a patient knight has his limits. After a few more cuddles, tugs, and the indignity of being gently pushed toward Blue Dragon for “battle,” Señor Scratchy decided he had endured quite enough. With a decisive flick of his hind legs, he hopped away from the battlefield. Nicky’s cape slipped off mid-bounce, left crumpled on the rug as the bunny made his escape.

“Hey!” Nicky cried, scrambling after him. “Scratchy, the battle isn’t over yet!”

Violet waddled after him, calling, “Bun bun! Huggy! Come back bun bun!”

But Señor Scratchy had already made his choice. He bounded across the rug, skirted around a pile of blocks, and hopped gracefully onto the couch—straight into Agatha’s lap. He settled there immediately, curling his paws under him to loaf out and pressing his nose into the soft folds of her sweater as though he had never once entertained the idea of wearing a cape.

“Oh, traitor,” Rio teased, watching as Agatha automatically lifted her hand to stroke the bunny’s fur. Señor Scratchy melted into her touch, closing his eyes in perfect contentment. “All it takes is one little lap and suddenly we don’t exist anymore.”

Nicky skidded to a halt at the edge of the couch, looking mildly betrayed. “Mama! He was supposed to fight!”

Agatha glanced down at him, her mouth twitching with amusement. “He fought bravely, Nicholas. But every knight must know when to retreat.” She continued stroking Señor Scratchy, whose whiskers twitched as if in smug agreement.

Rio let out a sigh. “Honestly, the way he looks at you. I’ve been married to you for years and I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that level of devotion.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a slow smile, her hand never pausing in its gentle motion along the bunny’s back. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said softly, eyes glinting. “You know very well you get far more than that.”

Rio raised an eyebrow in mock suspicion. “Mmm-hmm. Sure. But if I lose you to Señor Scratchy, I’ll have to explain to the kids why Mama ran away with a bunny, and frankly, I’m not ready for that conversation.”

Nicky giggled, Violet clapped again, and Señor Scratchy—blissfully unaware of the drama he had caused—shifted deeper into Agatha’s lap, perfectly pleased with himself.

The evening had been winding down toward dinner, the children still buzzing from their play with Señor Scratchy, when a sudden knock echoed against the front door. It startled everyone just a little, Friday nights were usually quiet and predictable in their home, with no unexpected visitors.

Agatha glanced toward Rio, who was just gathering up Violet from the rug after another failed attempt at hugging the bunny. Rio blinked at her, equally puzzled. “Were you expecting anyone?”

Agatha shook her head. “Not at all.”

They exchanged a brief look—one that held both curiosity and a sliver of caution. Agatha placed the bunny beside her, wiped her hands against her skirt and strode toward the door, her sharp instincts already on alert. She turned the knob, pulling it open slowly, prepared to find perhaps a neighbor or a delivery mix-up.

But what she saw instead stopped her in her tracks.

Standing on the porch was not an adult, but a child.

A girl. Her niece, Theodora.

“Thea?” Agatha breathed, surprise ringing through her voice. She quickly unlatched the storm door and crouched down so her gaze met the girl’s level. “Sweetheart, what on earth are you doing here?”

Thea was Nicky’s age, tall for her age with a mop of wavy blonde hair falling over her eyes. She was still wearing her school uniform and her backpack, worn and far too heavy for her small frame, was slung over one shoulder. Despite the exhaustion in her face, her expression brightened when she saw Agatha.

“I wanted to come see you,” Thea said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “And Nicky and Vivi and Aunt Rio. I—I missed you.”

Agatha’s heart softened at once, even as concern spiked sharply through her chest. She reached out instinctively, guiding the girl inside with a hand against her back. “Come in, darling, come in.”

Rio had risen from the living room, Violet perched on her hip, and Nicky came bounding up beside her, eyes going wide. “Thea! You’re here!”

Thea’s tired features cracked into a grin. “Hi, Nicky!” she cried, throwing her arms around him in a hug so enthusiastic he nearly toppled over.

Agatha closed the door behind them, still trying to gather her thoughts. Margaret’s daughter was standing in her living room—Margaret, her conservative, judgmental cousin who made family gatherings unbearable and who barely spoke to Agatha outside of them. The last time they’d seen Thea had been at Aunt Eugenia’s funeral, where Thea had instantly latched onto their family, practically glued to Nicky’s side the entire time.

“Honey,” Rio said gently, shifting Violet to her other hip, “how did you get here?”

Thea adjusted her backpack and shrugged, suddenly bashful. “I took the bus. It was super long. I had to look up the way on Grace’s laptop when she wasn’t looking.”

Agatha blinked, utterly floored. “You took the bus… alone?”

Thea nodded. “Yeah. But I wanted to come see you guys. At home it’s just—” she trailed off, kicking at the rug with her shoe. “It’s just not nice. You’re… you’re nicer. And fun. And you like me.”

Something heavy sank in Agatha’s chest, mingling with the warmth of affection she felt for the child. She reached out, brushing some of Thea’s messy hair behind her ear. “Of course we like you, darling. We love you.”

Nicky immediately grabbed Thea’s hand, beaming. “You can play with us! Vivi tried to make Scratchy wear a cape, and he hates it, but I bet you could help.”

“Bun-bun!” Violet announced loudly, twisting in Rio’s arms to point at Señor Scratchy, who had wisely retreated back into his corner.

Thea giggled, the sound small but relieved. She looked up at Agatha hopefully. “Can I stay here? Just for a while?”

Agatha exchanged another glance with Rio. This time it was heavier. Because while every instinct in her heart wanted to say yes—to welcome this bright, earnest child who clearly adored them—her mind was already racing ahead to Margaret.

She pressed her lips together, lowering her voice a little. “Sweetheart, does your mother know you’re here?”

Thea’s expression soured instantly. She shook her head, crossing her arms. “No. And I don’t want her to know.”

Rio’s brows furrowed as she set Violet down onto the rug, where the toddler immediately toddled over to Nicky and Thea. “Thea…” she said softly, crouching down beside her. “You came here all by yourself, without telling anyone? Don’t you think your mom will be worried?”

“She doesn’t care,” Thea muttered stubbornly. “She’s just gonna yell. She always yells. And she doesn’t like me playing with Nicky or being around you guys. She says you’re… bad.” The last word was spat out with all the bitterness a child could muster, though it was clear it didn’t come from her but from repetition.

Agatha’s jaw tightened. Oh, that sounded like Margaret all right.

But she forced her tone gentle, calm. “Well, we’re very glad you’re here. But your mother has to know where you are, Thea. Otherwise she’ll think something terrible has happened.”

Thea’s eyes welled with frustrated tears. “No! Please don’t tell her! Please, Aunt Agatha, she’ll make me leave and I want to stay here with you!”

Nicky immediately looked between them, his little face troubled. “She can stay, right Mama? Mom ? Please? She’s my cousin and my best friend. Can she stay?”

Rio’s heart squeezed painfully at the sight of both children, so eager to be together. She glanced helplessly at Agatha, who exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand across her brow.

“We’ll figure it out,” Agatha said finally, her voice quiet but firm. She smoothed Thea’s hair again, offering her a small smile. “For now, why don’t you go play with Nicky and Violet in the living room? I’m sure they’ve saved a spot for you.”

Thea sniffled but nodded, letting Nicky tug her toward the rug where blocks and toys were scattered. Violet squealed happily at her presence, babbling nonsense as she clapped her hands.

The sounds of laughter and little feet pattering across the rug soon echoed from the living room as Thea and Nicky immediately fell into step with each other, like no time at all had passed since they last played.

“Come on, Thea, we can make a tower taller than us,” Nicky declared, pulling out the big kids wooden blocks from the big bin in the corner.

Thea grinned, already dropping to her knees beside him. “Bet we can make it taller than your mama, too.”

That had Nicky cackling, and Violet, desperate to follow their every move, waddled after them on her short toddler legs, babbling loudly in protest whenever they moved faster than she could. “Me! Me, too!” she squealed, clutching a block in her hand. She plopped herself right between them, proudly adding her single block to the base of their creation, and the older cousins humored her with encouraging cheers.

“She’s helping,” Thea said warmly, giving Violet’s messy hair a gentle pat.

From the kitchen doorway, Agatha and Rio lingered for a moment, watching the scene unfold. The tightness in Agatha’s chest eased a little at the sight of her niece looking so at home, laughing, and being treated with tenderness by her children. But the matter at hand couldn’t be ignored.

Agatha exhaled, turning to her wife. “I have to call Margaret.”

Rio nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. “I’ll stay. Put her on speaker. I don’t trust that woman to keep her barbs to herself.”

Agatha allowed herself a small smirk. “Good idea.”

She moved to the counter, unlocked her phone, and scrolled to Margaret’s number. Just pressing “call” felt like opening a door to a drafty, unpleasant place she’d long since walled off. The line rang twice before a clipped, irritated voice answered.

“Yes? Who is this?”

The shrew hadn’t even saved her contact. The audacity. Agatha’s tone cooled immediately, polite but with a razor’s edge. “Hello, Margaret. It’s Agatha.”

There was a pause, and then a sharp, disdainful exhale. “Agatha. What a… surprise.”

Rio, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, rolled her eyes. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” she muttered under her breath.

Agatha pressed on, ignoring the barb. “I’m calling because your daughter is here. With us. She showed up at our house this evening.”

Silence hung for a beat before Margaret let out a scoff. “Theodora? What on earth do you mean? She’s supposed to be at home.”

“She isn’t,” Agatha replied flatly. “Thea took the bus here. Alone. She’s safe, don’t worry.”

“Her name,” Margaret cut in sharply, “is Theodora. Not—whatever ridiculous nickname you just used. I don’t allow people to shorten it. It’s her paternal grandmother’s name.”

Rio made a noise of disgust, straightening up. “She literally told her she preferred Thea when we met her last time. It’s the name she prefers, Margaret. You know—her choice?”

There was a harsh scoff from the other end. “She’s eight. She doesn’t get to decide something like that.”

Agatha closed her eyes for a moment, forcing down the urge to unleash her temper. She rolled her eyes instead, her voice dry. “Of course. Because autonomy is clearly such a dangerous thing for children.”

Rio smirked at that, folding her arms tighter.

Margaret, apparently missing the sarcasm—or choosing to ignore it—sighed. “Honestly, I hadn’t even noticed she was gone until you said so. That girl is a handful. A little devil, really. She never listens, always sneaking about. Just like now.”

Agatha’s grip on the phone tightened. Her gaze flicked toward the living room, where Thea was laughing as Nicky pretended to be a dragon trying to knock over their block tower, Violet squealing in delight. A little devil? No. A lonely little girl desperate for kindness.

“She’s eight years old, Margaret,” Agatha said coolly. “Not a devil. A child.”

“Well, she certainly acts otherwise,” Margaret sniffed.

Rio couldn’t contain herself this time. “Maybe because you treat her like a criminal instead of a kid,” she muttered acidly toward the phone, loud enough to be heard.

Agatha pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at her wife’s sharp tongue.

Margaret’s voice hardened. “I don’t want her spending time with you, Agatha. Or your—” she paused, her tone dripping with disdain, “—family. You know that.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, she’s here now,” Agatha said crisply. “And she’s welcome in my home.”

A beat of silence passed before Margaret gave a begrudging grunt. “Fine. I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it tonight. Let her stay there. But I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon to pick her up. And she will be punished for this stunt, you can be sure of that. No child of mine runs off and does whatever she pleases.”

“Punished,” Rio echoed with an incredulous laugh. “She took the bus to see family who actually likes her. Heaven forbid.”

Agatha smirked despite herself, unable to resist twisting the knife. “Careful, Margaret. If that’s the crime, she may keep doing it.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other line. “Don’t you dare try to corrupt my daughter with your—your wicked ways,” Margaret spat, the words practically trembling with disgust.

Agatha laughed outright this time. “My wicked ways? Really, Margaret. You make me sound like a fairytale villain. I’ll take it.”

Rio added sweetly, “Don’t worry. We’ll do our best not to teach her radical things like kindness, acceptance, and—oh, I don’t know—letting a child breathe. We’ll maybe even die her hair pink. Or blue. Or both. Or maybe we’ll host a sex ed class for future democrat kids.”

“You two are insufferable,” Margaret snapped. “I’ll be there tomorrow. And you can be sure Theodora will regret this little escapade.”

Before Agatha could respond, the line went dead. Margaret had hung up.

The kitchen went quiet except for the faint sound of children’s laughter drifting in from the living room. Agatha lowered the phone slowly, setting it down on the counter.

Rio met her gaze, eyebrows raised, then let out a snort of laughter. “Well. That went about as well as expected.”

Agatha chuckled, rubbing her forehead. “She never fails to outdo herself.”

Rio tilted her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “So. We have three kids for the night.”

Agatha grinned. “Yes. And tomorrow too, until Margaret comes to ruin it. Which means we’d better make it the best possible days for Thea.”

Rio leaned against her, kissing her cheek. “Now that,” she said, “is exactly what we’ll do.”

When Agatha and Rio stepped back into the living room, the sight that greeted them was enough to soften every sharp edge left over from their unpleasant phone call with Margaret. Thea and Nicky were crouched over the coffee table, the pieces of a bright jungle-animal puzzle spread out before them. Violet had planted herself squarely in Thea’s lap, her little arms wrapped around the older girl’s waist as if she had claimed her. Thea didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, carefully leaning forward so Violet didn’t topple, offering her small, kind commentary every time the toddler babbled at a puzzle piece.

“There’s the elephant’s ear, Vivi—see? Right there.” Thea guided Violet’s chubby fingers to the correct spot, though the toddler mostly smacked the cardboard and squealed like she’d solved the world’s mysteries.

Nicky, meanwhile, was entirely focused, tongue poking out in concentration. “We’re making good progress. If we get the tiger done before dinner, maybe we can make the whole thing.”

Agatha and Rio exchanged a warm look before stepping further into the room. “Well,” Agatha said softly, her tone pitched in that voice she only used for children she loved, “looks like we’ve got some serious puzzle masters at work.”

Thea’s head whipped up, her eyes wide with a little flicker of worry—would they be angry she was still here? But the warmth in Agatha’s expression quickly put her at ease.

Rio crouched next to the coffee table, brushing Violet’s wild curls out of her eyes. “We talked to your mom,” she began gently. “And it’s all sorted. You’ll stay here tonight, and tomorrow too. Then your mom will come by in the afternoon to pick you up.”

Thea blinked, taking in the words slowly. Then her face broke into a smile so bright it seemed to light up the room. “Really? I get to stay? Tonight?”

Nicky nearly toppled the puzzle in his excitement. “YES! Thea, we can play ALL NIGHT. You can sleep in my room tonight! We can build a fort, and read comics, and maybe sneak cookies—”

Rio raised an eyebrow. “Or, and here’s a wild idea, you could also… sleep.”

Agatha snorted, covering her mouth to hide her grin. “Yes, sleep. That boring thing people do at night.” She gave the kids a pointed look. “You may sleep in Nicky’s room together, but only if you promise not to giggle and whisper all night long.”

Nicky gasped, affronted. “Mama, how could you even—”

Thea burst into giggles, her shoulders shaking so hard Violet wiggled off her lap and plopped onto the rug with a squeak of surprise. “We won’t, we won’t,” Thea said quickly, though the twinkle in her eye betrayed her. “We’ll totally sleep. Right, Nicky?”

“Definitely,” Nicky said solemnly, then leaned close to whisper dramatically, “We’re totally not going to.”

Agatha gave Rio a look that said, we knew this would happen, while Rio tried to stifle her laugh and failed miserably.

“Well,” Rio said, reaching over to fix one of Violet’s pigtails when she started trying to eat a puzzle piece, “as long as you two don’t wake up the whole house at three in the morning, we’ll survive.”

“I’m so glad you’re here, Thea,” Nicky declared firmly, his voice full of that unwavering loyalty he reserved for people he loved. “It’s going to be the best sleepover EVER.”

Thea’s grin widened. She ducked her head a little, as if embarrassed, but her cheeks glowed pink with happiness. “I missed you, Nicky. You and Violet. And your moms.”

Agatha exchanged a glance with Rio, who gave her a small nod, both silently agreeing that they would give their niece all the love they could tonight.

Violet, oblivious to the heaviness, clapped her little hands and shouted, “Tea! Tea!”—her way of trying to say Thea. Then she attempted to climb back onto her cousin’s lap, her stubby legs kicking until Thea scooped her up again.

“Okay, Vivi,” Thea said with mock seriousness. “You can stay with me. But only if you promise not to drool on me.”

“Dwooo!” Violet repeated proudly, like she had just learned the greatest word in the world.

Rio stood and brushed her hands on her jeans. “All right, puzzle masters and bunny wranglers, we’ve got dinner to make. But after dinner… maybe we can think about building that fort in the living room.”

“YES!” Nicky shouted, springing up like a jack-in-the-box. He immediately grabbed Thea’s hand and pulled her up too. “Come on, we need to plan it! We’ll need blankets and pillows and maybe Señor Scratchy will guard the door!”

“Bun-bun!” Violet yelled, clapping again at the mention of the bunny, though she was still glued to Thea’s hip.

Agatha rose more slowly, slipping an arm around Rio’s waist as the kids dashed toward the couch, already plotting. She leaned close, her voice low so the children wouldn’t overhear. “Three kids, one night. We may not survive.”

Rio smirked and kissed her cheek. “Oh, we’ll survive. And we’ll make sure Thea remembers this night as the best one she’s had in a long time.”

Agatha’s expression softened. She watched Thea—who was now dramatically assigning Violet the role of “castle princess” for their future fort—laugh with her cousin and cradle the toddler without complaint. “She already looks lighter,” Agatha murmured.

Rio nodded. “That’s the magic of being wanted.”

And with that, they moved to the kitchen together, ready to face the night with their three little whirlwinds.

Dinner was never a quiet event in the Harkness-Vidal household, but tonight it had a particular buzz, the air thick with energy and delight. Thea was practically glowing at the table, seated between Nicky and Violet, with Agatha at one end and Rio at the other, both watching with fond amusement.

At first, though, there was a tiny hitch. As everyone gathered around the table, Thea remained standing behind her chair. Her small hands pressed against the backrest, her chin tilted down, waiting. Agatha, pouring water into cups, noticed it first.

“Thea, honey, you can sit,” she said gently.

But Thea didn’t move. She bit her lip and looked at them with a shy kind of hesitation, like she was waiting for some cue. “Don’t you… don’t you pray before dinner?” she asked softly.

Rio paused with the basket of bread in her hands, catching Agatha’s eye across the table. There was an unspoken exchange—understanding, sorrow for the weight of rules pressed onto a child, and a touch of relief that Thea felt safe enough to ask.

Agatha set the pitcher down and came closer, her voice warm and steady. “We don’t, love. Not here. But if it’s important to you, you can. We don’t mind.”

Thea blinked at them, startled by the freedom in the answer. And then, all at once, her mouth split into the widest grin. “Nope!” she said brightly, hopping into her chair with a bounce. “I don’t want to.”

Rio barked out a laugh, unable to help herself. “That’s our girl,” she said, sliding the bread basket down the table.

Nicky, oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, was already piling mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Good, because I’m starving,” he announced dramatically.

And with that, dinner began.

Almost immediately, Violet proved herself the star of chaos. From her high chair, she banged her spoon like a drumstick, demanding attention. When Agatha carefully spooned a bit of mashed carrot into her bowl, Violet scooped it up and smeared it right across her cheeks with a gleeful squeal.

“Carrots are not face paint, baby girl,” Rio said through laughter, wiping her daughter’s nose with a napkin.

Violet just grinned with orange-streaked teeth and flung a glob of carrot toward the floor, where Señor Scratchy sat hopefully waiting for fallout.

“Oh no, Mister,” Agatha sighed, scooping him up before he could lap up carrot mush. “You’re not joining dinner. Not like this.” She deposited him safely on the couch with his own lettuce leaf, under much protest from Violet, who shouted “Bun-bun! Bun-bun!” to summon him back.

Meanwhile, Nicky and Thea had launched into a verbal whirlwind, their voices overlapping in rapid excitement.

“At my school, we have this teacher who wears the same blue sweater every day—” Nicky began.

“Oh, my music teacher does that too!” Thea interrupted. “Except it’s green. Like this weird slimy green—”

“And then one time, we found out there was a HOLE in the sleeve,” Nicky continued, waving his fork around for emphasis. “And he kept sticking his thumb through it during class and it was so distracting—”

“Ew, ew, that’s gross!” Thea cackled, slapping the table. “Mine eats hard candy all the time and he doesn’t even try to hide it. He just chomps in front of us.”

“Chomps?!” Nicky echoed, falling into hysterical laughter.

Agatha sat back in her chair, chin in hand, her eyes sparkling as she watched them volley stories back and forth with the urgency of kids who had been waiting ages to finally be heard by each other.

Rio nudged her with her foot under the table. “They’re basically competing for who has the weirder teacher,” she whispered.

Agatha smirked. “Nicky will win. He always does.”

“And how exactly?”

“He cheats. He exaggerates.”

As if on cue, Nicky leaned forward dramatically. “One time, my teacher sneezed so loud that the fire alarm went off!”

Thea gasped, utterly delighted. “No way!”

“Totally true!” Nicky insisted.

Rio raised her brow at Agatha knowingly, though she kept quiet to let the game play out.

Thea, not to be outdone, said, “Well, one time, Grace—my sister—hid gum on his chair, and my teacher SAT on it. On the gum. He was stuck there forever!”

Nicky’s eyes went wide. “FOREVER?”

“Well… until the janitor came,” Thea admitted, then both of them collapsed into giggles so loud Violet started clapping her sticky hands just to join in.

By the time plates were scraped clean, Violet’s hair had an orange tint from her battle with carrots, Thea had crumbs all over her shirt, and Nicky had mashed potatoes smudged on his cheek where he’d been too busy laughing to wipe himself.

Agatha looked at the scene—the mess, the noise, the joy—and her heart felt strangely full. “Well,” she said, raising her glass of water like a toast, “that was the liveliest dinner we’ve had in ages.”

“Livelier than the time Nicky tried to eat spaghetti with chopsticks?” Rio teased.

“Mom! That was HARD!” Nicky protested, still laughing.

“Livelier than the time Violet put peas in her pigtails?” Agatha added dryly.

Violet, picking up on her name, beamed and shouted, “PEAS!” as if proudly owning the memory.

Rio snorted into her drink, and Thea leaned against the table, shaking her head with a grin. “Your family is so fun,” she said softly, almost like she couldn’t quite believe she was part of it, even just for the night.

Agatha’s gaze softened. “You’re part of it too, Thea,” she said warmly.

Thea’s smile stretched wide again, and she ducked her head, cheeks flushed pink. She quickly turned back to Nicky to start another round of chatter, but the quiet joy in her eyes lingered.

And as the table filled again with giggles, babbling, and the occasional carrot smear, Agatha and Rio sat back, watching their children—and their niece—thrive in the simple joy of being together.

The living room was alive with the happy mess of children. Dinner had been cleared away (though not without protests from Violet, who wanted to keep her carrot “paint” masterpiece going), and now, a great sprawling blanket fort dominated the carpet. Chairs dragged from the dining table, stacks of pillows, and every blanket in the house had been used to construct the fortress. Nicky and Thea had declared it “Castle Awesome,” while Violet—who had been tasked with gathering cushions—kept toddling around calling it “Fo’t,”

Now, the three of them were nestled inside on a pile of cushions, a movie flickering from the TV across the room. A bowl of popcorn sat in the middle, already half-eaten. Violet didn’t really follow the story but was utterly entranced by the colors and the fact that her big brother and cousin were giggling beside her. Every so often she would clap at the screen or shove a fistful of soft baby-approved sweets into her mouth, half of it falling into her lap.

In the kitchen, Agatha and Rio stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink, sleeves rolled up, hands busy with dishes. It was their ritual—Rio washing, Agatha drying. Every once in a while, Agatha would lean her shoulder into her wife’s, or Rio would splash a little water at her just to hear the scandalized gasp she always gave.

“Honestly, those three built the fort faster than I thought possible,” Rio remarked, handing over a wet plate.

Agatha smirked, towel poised. “Child labor. Highly efficient. It’s been proven by now.”

“They’re unionizing against bedtime, you know,” Rio said with mock solemnity. “It’s a lost cause.”

Agatha chuckled, setting the plate in the rack. She was about to tease back when her phone, abandoned on the counter, buzzed sharply.

Rio rolled her eyes. “Oh no. Not even Friday night is sacred. Work emails?”

“Of course,” Agatha sighed, wiping her hands before picking it up. “The university clutches at my soul like a banshee.”

Rio leaned closer, peering over her shoulder with exaggerated suspicion. “Tell them you’ve perished in a tragic dishwashing accident. Very believable.”

Agatha tapped open the notification. But as her eyes scanned the screen, her brows shot upward in visible disbelief. “Oh, it’s not the university.”

That caught Rio’s attention instantly. “Then who?”

Wordlessly, Agatha tilted the phone so Rio could see. Margaret.

Rio groaned so loud it could’ve rattled the windows. “Oh her. What does she want now?”

Agatha scrolled down, lips pressed tight. “Apparently, she has… instructions.”

“Instructions?” Rio echoed.

Agatha let out a disbelieving laugh. “Why don’t I just read it aloud, hmm?” She cleared her throat and began:

Subject: Theodora’s Overnight Stay – Rules & Expectations

 

Agatha,

 

Since you have insisted on allowing Theodora to stay in your home tonight, I am sending you the necessary guidelines to ensure she is properly cared for and not further influenced by your questionable lifestyle. Please follow these rules exactly.

Bedtime is 8:00 sharp. No exceptions. Theodora must be in bed, lights out, by this time. She is not to be kept up with frivolous games, heathen stories, or—heaven forbid—movies.

Dietary restrictions. Theodora is not allowed sweets after dinner. No candy, no chocolate, no sodas, no popcorn, no “junk food” of any kind. Her digestion cannot handle it.

Prayer before bed. Theodora must recite her evening prayer before sleep. You are not to interfere or distract her from this.

Dress code. No shorts. Her hair should be brushed and braided before bed.

Morning routine. She is to rise by 7:00 a.m., make her bed, brush her teeth immediately, and read a chapter from her Bible before breakfast. I trust you have one at your house.

Chores. Theodora is to assist with tidying her things. She should also help set and clear the table at every meal as part of her training in responsibility.

Language. She is not to be exposed to vulgar, crude, or overly “silly” language. (That includes “potty humor” or nonsense words.) Encourage her to speak properly and respectfully at all times.

Toys and games. She may play with educational or constructive toys. No fantasy nonsense. Certainly nothing involving witches. Those bring the devil in.

Television. She is not to watch TV. If she must, it should be only approved, educational programming. Not cartoons.

Properness. She is to spend her time quietly, not running wild. Please remind her she is nearly nine years old, not a toddler.

Attitude. If she talks back, sulks, or misbehaves, you are to discipline her appropriately. I expect her to be reminded of her duties as a daughter, not coddled.

Departure. I will arrive tomorrow afternoon. Ensure she is dressed neatly, hair brushed, and ready to return home.

 

Do not deviate from these instructions. Theodora needs discipline and structure—not chaos, indulgence, or your so-called “freedom.”

 

Margaret

By the time Agatha finished, her eyebrow had practically climbed to her hairline. She closed the email with a flick of her thumb and looked over to Rio without a word.

Rio let out a long, incredulous scoff. “She’s joking. This has to be a parody.”

“Oh, it’s Margaret,” Agatha said dryly. “She doesn’t joke.”

“Bedtime at eight? No popcorn? No cartoons? No witches?!” Rio slapped the phone back on the counter and crossed her arms. “She’s trying to suck the childhood right out of her.”

Agatha shook her head, still chuckling under her breath. “I have half a mind to print it out and frame it. It reads like satire.”

Rio leaned back against the counter, glaring toward the living room where the fort giggles carried down the hall. “Well, that list is good for exactly one thing.”

“Oh?”

“To remind us exactly what not to do,” Rio declared.

Agatha smirked. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The two of them shared a smile, the sound of Violet’s babbling and Nicky’s giggles floating in from the other room. Whatever Margaret thought, Thea wasn’t going to get discipline and structure tonight. She was going to get joy, laughter, and the chance to just be a kid.

And Agatha and Rio were going to make sure of it.

With the last dish dried and tucked away, Agatha hung the towel neatly over the oven handle, declaring their work finished. Rio leaned into her side for a brief moment, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before they both padded back into the living room. The sound of the movie filled the house, its bright animation casting colorful flickers across the walls, and the children were utterly enthralled.

The fort had long since been abandoned in favor of a mountain of pillows and blankets piled up in front of the couch. Violet sat cross-legged, clutching the corner of a throw blanket, her big eyes glued to the screen as though the fate of the world depended on the outcome of the cartoon. Nicky, sprawled half on the floor, half on the couch, was munching absentmindedly on the last crumbs of popcorn. Thea, perched carefully on the edge of the couch cushion, sat straighter than the others, her hands folded in her lap, but her eyes darted every so often toward her cousins.

When Rio and Agatha walked in, Nicky immediately perked up. “Mama! Mom! Come sit!” He patted the space on the couch with exaggerated urgency.

Rio laughed softly, and Agatha raised a brow. “Captain’s orders,” she said, nudging her wife toward the couch first.

They both settled in, Agatha at one end, Rio beside her, leaving just enough room for the children to swarm. And swarm they did. Violet wasted no time toddling over with her blanket, crawling right into Rio’s lap, nestling herself against her mom’s chest as though she had belonged there all along. Rio automatically curled an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her hair, the child already half-drifting into the warm fog of sleep.

Nicky, never one to be outdone by his little sister, wriggled onto the couch from his previous sprawl and immediately pressed into Agatha’s side, resting his head against her shoulder. “This part is so good,” he whispered, even though the movie was loud enough that whispering was wholly unnecessary.

Agatha chuckled and brushed a hand through his hair. “I believe you.”

It was then that Agatha noticed Thea. The little girl sat primly on the other side of Nicky, her eyes flicking between the animated characters on the screen and—more often—at her cousins in their mothers’ arms. There was something hesitant in her posture, the way she hugged her own knees close, as though afraid to ask for what she wanted.

Agatha’s chest tightened. She recognized that look—the longing, the careful restraint. It was a look she’d worn herself as a child, sitting on the sidelines of someone else’s family warmth.

Without a word, she shifted her arm slightly, leaving a clear open space against her side, and tilted her head to meet Thea’s gaze. “There’s room for two, you know,” she said softly.

For a moment, Thea just blinked at her, as if unsure she’d heard right. Then, like the sun breaking through clouds, her face lit up. She scrambled closer, sliding into the offered space, and let out a tiny sigh as she nestled against Agatha’s other side.

Agatha’s arm curled around her naturally. She felt the small, tense shoulders relax almost instantly, and Thea leaned her head against her aunt’s chest, her eyes fixed back on the screen but her smile wide and unguarded.

Rio glanced over from where she was stroking Violet’s back. She caught the sight and exchanged a look with her wife over the tops of the children’s heads. Agatha’s expression was tender, protective, and Rio’s smile softened into something that made her own chest ache.

Thea had slipped so seamlessly into their little pile that, within minutes, it felt like she had always belonged there. She giggled at the same jokes Nicky did, sometimes whispering little comments that made him snicker even harder. Occasionally, she glanced up at Agatha, as if to confirm that she was still welcome to lean there. Every time, Agatha would answer with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder or the brush of her hand against Thea’s hair.

The room grew quieter as the film neared its end, the chaos of earlier fading into a warm, drowsy calm. Violet’s eyes grew heavy, her little body sprawled completely across Rio now, one tiny fist still gripping her mother’s shirt. She gave a soft, content sigh, and Rio’s hand never stopped moving in soothing circles on her back.

By the time the credits began to roll, Nicky was still awake, wide-eyed and eager to discuss every detail of the finale, but Thea had melted so completely into Agatha’s side that she barely stirred. She wasn’t asleep but she was quiet, her eyes half-lidded, as though savoring every second of the rare, unguarded affection.

Agatha looked down at both children leaning against her, her son’s head heavy on her shoulder and her niece tucked securely into her arm, and felt her heart swell. She had two children who already filled her life with more love than she could have imagined—and yet somehow, there was room for one more tonight.

Rio caught her gaze again across Violet’s sleeping form, her smile soft and a little sad at the same time, as though she too was thinking of what Thea went home to compared to here. Agatha reached across with her free hand, brushing her fingers over Rio’s arm in a quiet reassurance. For now, all that mattered was this moment: three children tangled in love, two mothers watching over them, and the hush of a Friday night wrapping them all in peace.

By the time the credits finished rolling and Violet was fully asleep against Rio’s chest, it was well past her bedtime. Rio shifted carefully, sliding one arm beneath her daughter and standing slowly, trying not to wake her. Violet stirred just enough to give a faint whimper and stuff her thumb in her mouth, her other hand still clinging to the corner of her blanket. But the moment Rio settled her into her crib, tucking her with practiced gentleness, the toddler gave one last sigh and rolled onto her side, out like a light.

“Easiest part of bedtime,” Rio whispered with a soft smile, brushing a curl from Violet’s forehead.

Agatha chuckled quietly from the doorway. “Enjoy it while it lasts. She’ll be up at dawn demanding pancakes.”

“My baby girl knows what she wants,” Rio teased over her shoulder before tiptoeing out. « We really need to get her a big girl bed. »

The real challenge, of course, was waiting in Nicky’s room.

The two older children had been buzzing with new energy ever since the movie had ended, and now that they knew they were allowed to share a room for the night, their excitement had tripled. Nicky was already bounding around the room as Agatha and Rio dragged the spare mattress in from the hall closet. It was the same one they used when Billy and Tommy spent the night, and it fit perfectly at the foot of Nicky’s bed.

“Here!” Nicky exclaimed, diving onto the mattress before it was even covered with sheets. “Thea can sleep right here! And then we can whisper all night and make plans for tomorrow!”

Thea, giggling, followed him down onto the bare mattress. “We’ll tell stories,” she added with glee. “And maybe we’ll even stay up till midnight!”

Agatha arched an eyebrow as she shook out the fitted sheet. “Midnight? Bold of you to assume we won’t hear you before then.”

Rio, balancing a pillow under one arm and tossing a blanket onto the mattress, smirked. “Exactly. Besides, if you don’t get any sleep, you’ll be too tired to play tomorrow.”

Both children pouted at that but didn’t argue. Instead, they “helped” by holding corners of sheets and fluffing pillows, though their efforts resulted in more giggles than efficiency.

When the little bed was finally made up, Agatha ducked into Nicky’s dresser for pajamas. Thea, of course, hadn’t brought any clothes—her trip had been entirely spur-of-the-moment—so Agatha picked out one of Nicky’s soft cotton sets, blue with little stars scattered across it.

“They’ll be a touch roomy, but I think you can pull them off,” she said, handing them over.

Thea looked down at the pajamas in her hands, her grin spreading wide. “They’re perfect.”

A few minutes later, the two cousins emerged from the bathroom, teeth brushed and faces still damp from their overly enthusiastic splashing at the sink. Nicky wore his favorite dragon-themed pajamas, and Thea now matched him in the starry set. Together, they looked like a coordinated pair ready for a sleepover photoshoot.

Rio’s heart just about melted at the sight. “Would you look at that,” she murmured, resting her chin on Agatha’s shoulder. “Matching pajamas. I can’t handle the cuteness.”

Agatha smirked. “We might never get them to sleep now that they know how adorable they are.”

Sure enough, the two children were already bouncing on Nicky’s bed, laughing so loudly that Violet might have woken had she not been such a heavy sleeper. “Okay, you two,” Agatha said, her voice taking on the stern-but-gentle tone she reserved for bedtime. “Settle down. It’s time to calm those giggles.”

“We’re calm!” Nicky insisted through a fit of laughter, falling sideways into Thea, who shrieked as they both collapsed into a pile of blankets.

Rio raised a brow. “Very convincing.”

Eventually, after a few more rounds of giggles and shushing, the children tucked themselves in—Nicky in his bed, Thea at the foot on her mattress. They were still whispering, but their little bodies looked cozy and content under the covers.

Thea glanced up at Agatha and Rio as they came to tuck them in properly. Her smile was softer now, shy but warm. “Thank you for letting me stay,” she said, her voice quieter than before. “I… I like it here.”

Agatha’s heart gave a little squeeze. She bent down and kissed her niece’s forehead gently. “You’re always welcome here, sweetheart.”

Rio leaned over next, brushing Thea’s hair back from her face. “We’re so glad you came to see us, Thea.” She pressed a kiss to her forehead as well before moving to do the same with Nicky, who was already grinning in anticipation of his own goodnight kiss.

“Goodnight, troublemaker,” Rio teased, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Mommy,” he mumbled back, already wriggling into his blankets.

Agatha kissed him too, smoothing his hair down. “Sweet dreams, my big boy.”

Both children chorused their “Goodnights!” and Thea added one last whispered, “Thanks again,” before ducking under her covers.

As the moms lingered in the doorway, watching them, it was abundantly clear the cousins weren’t going to sleep anytime soon. They were already whispering again, muffled giggles slipping through the room.

Rio sighed but smiled anyway, slipping her hand into Agatha’s. “They’re not going to settle for a while.”

“Of course not,” Agatha said dryly, though there was affection in her voice. “But let them have this. They deserve one night of silly secrets and late giggles.”

Rio squeezed her hand. “Yeah. Tomorrow will be good for her.”

With that, they turned off the light, leaving only the soft glow of Nicky’s nightlight shining stars across the ceiling, and closed the door gently behind them. For now, the house was peaceful—at least until the whispers grew too loud. But both mothers were content to let it be.

They lingered for a moment in the hallway, listening to the low murmur of voices already breaking into stifled laughter on the other side. They exchanged a glance that was equal parts exasperated and amused.

“They’re already at it,” Rio whispered, shaking her head.

Agatha’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Of course they are. They’ll be whispering and giggling for at least another hour, if not two. I give it twenty minutes before they think they’ve successfully fooled us into believing they’re asleep.”

Rio snorted quietly as they padded down the hall toward their own bedroom. “Let’s just hope they don’t get too loud and wake Violet. You know she’ll think it’s morning the second she hears voices.”

The thought of their toddler daughter deciding at midnight that it was time for breakfast made them both grimace, but neither seemed particularly worried. Agatha, especially, looked almost indulgent, her smile soft with the kind of fondness she rarely let show outside the walls of their home.

“They’re having fun,” she said simply as she opened the door to their bedroom. “Let them have it.”

Rio hummed in agreement as she slipped past her wife, already tugging her hair down from its ponytail and shaking it loose. “It’s worth it just to see them happy.”

They went about their quiet bedtime rituals together—Agatha neatly folding her cardigan over the back of a chair, Rio leaving hers in a less tidy heap at the foot of the bed, both brushing their teeth side by side and bumping elbows until Agatha gave her a mock-annoyed glare and Rio grinned at her reflection.

By the time they slid beneath the covers, the house had settled into a hush, broken only by the occasional creak of the old wood, and the muffled giggles of Nicky and Thea, drifting down the hallway like a rebelllious little song.

Rio curled onto her side to face Agatha, who was already propped up against her pillows with a book in hand. “You’re not even going to try to scold them from here, are you?”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, her reading glasses sliding slightly down her nose. “Scold them? For what—being children? No. If they keep Violet up, then yes, I’ll put on my stern professor voice. But until then…” She shrugged lightly and turned a page. “Let them laugh.”

Rio smiled at that, the corners of her mouth tugging up as she scooted closer and nestled against Agatha’s side. She tugged her own book from the nightstand, but after a few paragraphs her attention waned. The giggles floating from the other room, the warmth of Agatha beside her, the quiet intimacy of their shared space—it all lulled her into something softer, gentler than reading could satisfy.

With a sigh, she let her book drop face down on her chest. “Mine’s boring anyway,” she muttered, shifting until her head rested against Agatha’s shoulder.

Agatha didn’t look up from her page, but Rio felt the little smirk in the way her wife’s shoulder shifted under her cheek. “That’s what you get for insisting on trying the mystery novels again. You always hate them.”

“I don’t always hate them,” Rio said, though her tone was halfhearted at best. “I just… don’t love them as much as I love your books.”

Agatha finally did glance down, one brow arched in amusement. “My books, hm?”

“Mhm,” Rio murmured, tilting her head so she could peek at the page in Agatha’s hands. “Whatever you’re reading always ends up being more interesting.”

“And what exactly do you think I’m reading?” Agatha asked, though she allowed Rio to angle herself more comfortably against her, the book shifting so they could both see.

Rio squinted at the title and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, trashy romance. Why am I not surprised.”

Agatha’s lips quirked into the faintest of smug smiles. “I know you married a literature professor, darling, but come on, I can’t always be serious.”

“I love that. A terrible romance novel with a terrible cover,” Rio teased, pressing closer and draping an arm over Agatha’s middle. “You’re multi-faceted.”

“Someone has to keep standards in this house,” Agatha said primly, though her free hand reached down to absently stroke Rio’s arm, the gesture tender in a way that undermined her mock severity and the fact that she really did enjoy her trashy romance novels.

From the other room came another burst of giggles, louder this time, followed by an exaggerated “shhhh!” that only set the cousins off again. Both mothers paused to listen.

Rio smothered a laugh against Agatha’s shoulder. “They’re terrible at being sneaky.”

“One of them gets it from you,” Agatha replied smoothly, turning another page as though she hadn’t just delivered a casual jab.

Rio lifted her head just enough to glare playfully at her wife. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t look at me like that, Rio,” Agatha said, her voice lilting with amusement. “You’re the one who can’t keep a straight face when you’re trying to hide something. Our son is merely a mirror.”

Rio grumbled but couldn’t fight the smile that broke across her face. She dropped her head back down, hugging closer. “Fine. He gets it from me. But Thea’s no better, and she’s not mine.”

“Perhaps she simply feels freer here than she does at home,” Agatha said softly, her eyes flicking briefly away from the page. There was something thoughtful in her tone, heavy with the weight of everything she knew about Margaret and the way she treated her daughter.

Rio’s arm tightened around her. “Then we’ll give her the best sleepover she’s ever had.”

“Even if it means losing sleep ourselves?”

“Even then.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, Agatha reading aloud a line or two when Rio asked, Rio occasionally pressing a kiss to Agatha’s shoulder or jaw in between. The muffled giggles continued, the sound growing softer over time, though never disappearing completely. And through it all, the two mothers lay entwined in their own quiet world, smiling at the mischief of the children they loved so dearly.

*

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Chapter Text

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The morning light spilled faintly through the half-drawn curtains, crzati,g a soft glow across the room. It was that rarest of luxuries: a Saturday morning with no rush, no alarm blaring, no meetings or work to get to. Agatha lay on her back, eyes half-closed, enjoying the stillness. Rio was curled against her side, a mess of tangled hair spilling over her shoulder, her face tucked into Agatha’s arm. They were both just hovering on that delicious edge between sleep and wakefulness when the first whispers floated down the hallway.

“Mother says we’re not allowed to go in parents’ rooms,” came Thea’s soft, hesitant voice.

“Yes, we are,” came Nicky’s emphatic whisper in reply. “Mom and Mama always say it’s okay if we need them. Always.”

There was a pause. Then Thea again, still doubtful. “But… but that’s just you. I don’t think it’s okay for me.”

“Yes, it is!” Nicky insisted, the firmness in his tone almost making Agatha smile with her eyes still shut. “You’re here. You’re my cousin. That means you’re part of the family. And in our family, you can go in Mom and Mama’s room if you want to.”

On the other side of the bedroom door, the debate continued in hushed voices that weren’t nearly as quiet as the children thought they were. Agatha opened her eyes and found Rio already watching the door with the smallest grin tugging at her lips. They didn’t say a word to each other, both silently agreeing to let the cousins work it out themselves. It was too sweet not to hear.

Finally, there came the faint creak of the door handle turning, and two little faces peeked around the edge.

“Good morning,” Nicky said brightly, already stepping halfway into the room.

Thea lingered behind him, still clutching the doorframe as though stepping in might set off an invisible alarm. Her wide eyes flicked from her cousin to her aunts in bed. “Are you sure…?” she whispered again.

“Yes!” Nicky huffed, tugging her hand until she stumbled a few steps further inside. “Look. See? They’re not mad.”

Indeed, neither of his mothers looked mad in the slightest. Agatha was sitting up now, pushing her hair back from her face, her expression soft with amusement. Rio propped herself up on her elbow and gave them both an exaggerated yawn and stretch, then opened her arms wide. “Good morning, loves.”

That was apparently the confirmation Thea needed. She let out a small laugh of relief and scurried in after Nicky.

But instead of clambering straight onto the bed like he normally did, Nicky planted himself and Thea squarely at the foot of it, standing tall with his cousin’s hand clutched firmly in his own. “So. We woke up forever ago,” he announced, “and we made up a dance routine. And we’d like to show you.”

Rio’s brows shot up in mock awe. “A dance routine? First thing in the morning?”

“It’s important!” Nicky insisted, his tone very serious, even as Thea stifled a giggle.

“Well, then,” Agatha said smoothly, folding her arms on her knees as she sat up straighter. “We’d better not miss it.” She made a show of adjusting herself against the pillows. “The stage is set. Performers ready?”

Thea nodded quickly, looking both thrilled and bashful. Nicky gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go, then whispered something into her ear to remind her of their “starting pose.”

Rio clapped her hands once in encouragement. “Okay, showtime!”

And then the performance began.

It was, of course, a glorious mess. The two eight-year-olds had clearly pieced it together in their room between bouts of giggles and whispered plotting, but they threw themselves into it with all the earnestness of seasoned professionals. They spun in clumsy circles, stomped their feet in something like rhythm, leapt dramatically across the carpet and posed with their arms in the air. At one point, Nicky tried a cartwheel that landed more like a tumble, but Thea immediately mirrored it, both of them collapsing into laughter before popping back up and continuing without missing a beat.

Rio covered her mouth with her hand, shaking with silent laughter, while Agatha’s eyes gleamed with delight, following every move. They shared quick glances with each other, that private wordless conversation of parents: They are ridiculous. They are perfect.

The finale came with both children linking arms and doing a twirling circle so fast Thea nearly toppled onto the bed. At the very last moment, Nicky caught her, and they both threw their arms up and shouted, “Ta-da!”

Agatha and Rio burst into applause, clapping loud and proud from the bed.

“Bravo!” Agatha cheered, her voice warm and theatrical. “What a performance!”

“I think I’ve just seen the next stars of Broadway,” Rio declared, wiping a pretend tear from her eye.

Nicky puffed out his chest, looking utterly triumphant. Thea was grinning so hard her cheeks flushed pink, ducking her head as though embarrassed but still glowing under the praise.

“Encore?” Rio teased.

“This afternoon,” Nicky said firmly, slipping right into his role as director. “We’ll make a new one after breakfast. This was only part one.”

“Ah,” Agatha said, nodding gravely. “A whole series. Very ambitious.”

Thea giggled again, hiding behind her hands, but her eyes were shining. She looked at the two women in bed, comfortable and safe and so easy with her, and for a moment she just stood there, soaking it all in. She had been so unsure about stepping into their room, and now here she was—being clapped for, cheered on, celebrated just as warmly as Nicky was.

Agatha caught the look and softened even further. She reached out a hand from the bed, palm open in quiet invitation. “Come here, little star.”

Thea hesitated for only a second before taking it, climbing up onto the mattress with a shy little bounce. Nicky followed immediately, sprawling himself across Rio’s legs without hesitation.

“Best audience ever,” he declared happily.

Agatha wrapped an arm around Thea and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Best performers ever,” she corrected gently, smiling over the girl’s shoulder at Rio, who already had one arm looped around Nicky.

The laughter from the little “performance” had barely died down when a soft sound came from the hallway—a faint, uneven shuffle, followed by the unmistakable drag of a blanket along the wooden floor. Agatha and Rio turned their heads toward the door just in time to see a tiny figure appear.

Violet stood there, her hair sticking up in wild tufts from sleep, cheeks flushed pink, her eyelids heavy with drowsiness. She clutched Yellow Dragon by one arm, the poor stuffed toy dangling against the floor, and with her other hand she clung tightly to her favorite soft blanket. She looked impossibly small, framed in the doorway, blinking owlishly at the cluster of people on the big bed.

“Oh no,” Rio whispered with a smile. “The beast has escaped her crib again.”

“Climbed out,” Agatha corrected with mock seriousness, though her heart softened instantly at the sight. Their two-year-old was still in her footed pajamas, the zipper slightly askew from her wriggling. The moment Violet caught her mothers’ eyes, she let out a little triumphant babble as if to announce, Yes, I did it again.

Violet’s steps were clumsy, unsteady from both sleepiness and determination. She padded toward the bed, dragging the blanket behind her, Yellow Dragon bumping along at her side. When she reached the mattress, she put both hands on it, grunted, and made a valiant attempt at climbing.

Rio automatically leaned forward, ready to scoop her up, but Agatha shook her head with a small smile. “Let her try.”

With a fierce little huff and one last kick, Violet managed to scramble onto the bed. She immediately crawled straight across Agatha’s lap, knees digging into her mother’s stomach as though Agatha was nothing more than an obstacle course. Finally, she plopped herself right between her two mothers, wedging in with complete ownership. Yellow Dragon was tucked under one arm, blanket still clutched in her hand, and she blinked at everyone intently.

“Hi, trouble,” Rio murmured, brushing hair from Violet’s face.

Violet responded with a babble of half-formed words, pointing vaguely toward Nicky and Thea, then back at her dragon. “Ni… Thee… D’don… mama mama.”

“She’s giving a full report,” Agatha said solemnly, earning a laugh from Rio.

Thea, who had only ever seen Violet at family gatherings where the toddler was usually overwhelmed by the chaos or mid-lay, watched her cousin now with wide eyes. She seemed charmed by how determined Violet was to be part of everything, despite clearly still being half-asleep.

Nicky, meanwhile, was far less distracted. He gave his little sister’s head a brief pat before launching into a demand. “Mom. Mama. Since it’s the weekend, can we pleeeease have pancakes?” His voice had that dramatic whine of a boy who had been planning his request since the moment he woke up.

Thea perked up immediately. “Yes, pancakes!”

Violet, catching onto the chant even without understanding, flapped her dragon and babbled, “Cake! cake!” before letting out a little squeal of excitement.

Agatha raised her eyebrows at Rio, who was already smirking. “Oh no,” she said in mock horror. “Three against two.”

“They’re forming a union,” Rio teased. “We’ll be outvoted every time.”

Agatha sighed dramatically, resting a hand over her heart. “What cruel fate, to be overrun by small pancake fanatics.”

Nicky threw himself onto her knees, clasping his hands in exaggerated pleading. “Please, Mama! Pleeeease. Pancakes. We’ll eat every single one. We’ll even help stir the batter. Right, Thea?”

Thea nodded eagerly. “Yes! I’m really good at stirring.”

“Stir!” Violet echoed, though it came out as more of a slurred “shh-rrr.” She held Yellow Dragon aloft as if he too was voting in favor.

Rio leaned back against the headboard, folding her arms with a grin. “Hmm. I don’t know, Agatha dear. Pancakes sound like an awful lot of work.”

The kids collectively gasped, as though she had just threatened to cancel Christmas.

“But…” Agatha drawled, stretching out the word, enjoying the suspense, “since it is Saturday…”

“And since we have three very persuasive pancake lobbyists,” Rio added.

“…I suppose we could be convinced,” Agatha finished, letting her tone drip with mock reluctance.

The cheers that erupted nearly shook the bed. Nicky bounced so hard he almost toppled off, Thea clapped her hands, and Violet squealed, jabbing her dragon at her mothers in victory.

“Victory pancakes!” Nicky declared, throwing his arms into the air.

Rio laughed and pulled Violet closer against her, kissing the toddler’s messy curls. “Alright, alright. Pancakes it is.”

Agatha gave a resigned sigh, though her eyes sparkled. “But only if everyone promises to help. Pancake duty is a family affair.”

“Yes!” Nicky crowed. “I’ll crack the eggs!”

“No, I’ll do it!” Thea cried.

“Stir!” Violet demanded again, waving her dragon like a spatula.

“Maybe,” Rio said, biting back a laugh, “Mama and I should handle the eggs.”

“Agreed,” Agatha said immediately, remembering the last time Nicky had been allowed near an egg and how much of it had ended up on the counter.

Thea, though, looked so eager that Agatha softened. “But you and Nicky can both stir,” she added gently. “And Violet can be the official taste-tester.”

Violet clapped her hands, thrilled, though it was unlikely she knew what she’d just been assigned.

As the excitement finally began to settle, all five of them sprawled out on the bed in a tangled heap: Agatha with her arm wrapped around Violet, Rio with Nicky leaning heavily against her legs, and Thea tucked happily between them all.

The kitchen still smelled like maple syrup and vanilla when the family finally pushed back their chairs from the breakfast table. Pancake plates were mostly empty, smeared with sticky sweetness, though Violet had more syrup on her cheeks than in her belly. She sat in her highchair, proudly banging Yellow Dragon against the tray as if he too had eaten a full stack.

Agatha wiped Violet’s face with a warm cloth while Rio collected the plates, her hair falling forward as she bent over the table. Nicky and Thea darted back and forth between the sink and the dish rack, insisting on helping with clean-up, though their “help” mostly consisted of splashing water and laughing about who could dry the forks faster.

It was a lively, messy sort of morning—one of those Saturdays where the house buzzed with an energy that felt fuller than usual, thanks to Thea’s presence.

As the last plate was rinsed, Rio glanced at Agatha, who was hoisting Violet out of her chair. She tilted her head slightly, a silent question. Agatha raised an eyebrow, then gave a small nod, already guessing where her wife’s thoughts were headed.

Rio wiped her hands on a dish towel, then crouched beside Nicky, who was still trying to stack wet bowls precariously on the counter. “Hey, bud,” she said softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Nicky turned, his cheeks flushed from the post-breakfast chaos. “Yeah, Mom?”

Rio lowered her voice a little, making the conversation just between the two of them. “So, usually you and Violet would have dance class today, right?”

Nicky’s eyes lit up at the mention, because he loved those Saturday classes. But before he could launch into chatter about it, Rio continued, “I was thinking… since Thea’s here, maybe you’d like to skip just this once. That way you can spend the whole day with her. What do you think?”

Nicky blinked. His first instinct was obvious—the pull of dance class, the routine he adored, the way he and Violet got to show off their little moves. But then his gaze flicked to Thea, who was humming a song and drying a spoon, clearly just happy to be in the house. Nicky’s grin widened.

“Yeah!” he said immediately. “We can skip! We can play with Thea all day!”

Rio chuckled, giving his hair a fond ruffle. “You sure? You won’t miss it?”

He shook his head so quickly his curls flopped into his face. “Nope! We can practice our dance here. We’ll teach Thea!”

“Alright then.” Rio straightened, satisfied. “I’ll call Miss Geraldine in a bit and let her know Vivi won’t be in. And I’ll ask if she can cover Mom’s class for me too.”

“Wait, you’re not going either?” Nicky asked, surprised.

“Nope,” Rio said, giving him a playful poke to the ribs. “If you get a special day with your cousin, then so do I with my niece.”

Nicky’s laughter rang out as he twisted away from the tickle. Thea looked up, catching on to the conversation. “Does that mean you’re not going to your class either, Aunt Rio?”

“Exactly,” Rio said warmly. “Sometimes family time is more important than schedules.”

Thea beamed. “I like that rule.”

Agatha, overhearing, gave Rio a small smile as she bounced Violet on her hip. The toddler was already wriggling to get down, babbling happily to herself. “You’re really going to call Geraldine and hand over your class last minute?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Rio shrugged lightly. “Geraldine owes me. I covered for her when her grandma had her bingo tournament. She’ll say yes.”

“Mm. Fair point.” Agatha kissed Violet’s head, who squealed and pressed her dragon against Agatha’s cheek in return. “Well, I can’t say I mind having you home for the whole day.”

“Good.” Rio leaned closer, her voice dropping low enough for only Agatha to hear. “Maybe after the kids wear themselves out, I’ll even get to steal a little time with you too.”

Agatha’s lips curved, but she shook her head with mock sternness. “One thing at a time, love. First, let’s survive a houseful of children.”

Meanwhile, Nicky and Thea had already begun making plans at full volume. “We can build another fort!” Nicky suggested.

“And put on another show!” Thea added. “With costumes!”

“Costumes!” Nicky repeated, his excitement almost too big for his small body.

Violet, having finally been released to the floor, stomped her feet in approval. “Bee-bee! Bun-bun!” She flapped Yellow Dragon like he was part of the committee.

Agatha gave Rio a look, half exasperation, half fondness. “Well, seems our day is decided.”

“Better than pliés and rond de jambes,” Rio teased, reaching for her phone. She stepped into the hallway to call Miss Geraldine, her voice calm and professional as she explained she wouldn’t be able to make it that day. True to Rio’s prediction, Geraldine agreed without fuss, promising to handle things.

When Rio returned, she tucked her phone into her pocket and leaned against the doorway, surveying the scene: Violet dragging her blanket across the floor, Nicky explaining an elaborate plan to Thea about building a castle out of sofa cushions, and Agatha watching it all with an expression that was equal parts queenly patience and maternal amusement.

“Alright,” Rio announced, clapping her hands together. “It’s official. No dance today. Today is for forts, shows, costumes, and whatever else this gang dreams up.”

The cheer that followed shook the walls, Violet squealing loudest of all.

Agatha shot Rio a sidelong glance, her smile soft and full. “You’ve made them all very happy, my love.”

Rio smirked, brushing invisible dust off her hands. “Well. Mission accomplished.”

Nicky darted up first, tugging Thea by the hand. “Come on! We gotta get dressed if we’re gonna build the biggest fort ever.”

Thea laughed, running along after him, but she hesitated as soon as they reached his room. Nicky, already rooting around in his dresser for the “good” t-shirts he liked best, tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “You can change too. Mama says we can’t build forts in school uniforms.”

Thea glanced down at herself. She only had yesterday’s stiff navy jumper, a white blouse and a navy pleated skirt, wrinkled now from where she had left them on Nicky’s floor before sleeping in borrowed pajamas. Her shoes sat by the door, scuffed from everyday life and her long bus ride. “I… I don’t have anything else,” she admitted quietly. “I didn’t bring clothes.”

Down the hall, Rio and Agatha had just finished getting Violet wrangled out of her sticky onesie. The toddler squirmed in Rio’s lap, babbling about “coos-ooms” while Agatha set aside a neat pile of laundry. When Rio heard Thea’s hesitant voice drift from Nicky’s room, she shared a quick look with her wife and rose.

She tapped lightly on Nicky’s door before pushing it open. “Everything alright in here?”

Thea shifted nervously, clutching at her uniform skirt. “I… I was just gonna put this back on.”

Rio blinked, then softened. “That can’t be comfortable. Why don’t you borrow something from Nicky? He’s got plenty.”

Thea’s eyes widened, and she shook her head fast. “I… I don’t think I can. My mom says girls aren’t supposed to wear boys’ clothes.”

Nicky froze halfway through pulling on a t-shirt, staring at her like she’d spoken in another language. “That’s silly,” he said bluntly. “They’re just clothes.”

But Thea’s little frown didn’t budge, and Rio could see how deeply her mother’s words had rooted. She crouched down so she was eye-level with the girl. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said gently. “You know what? In this house, there’s no such thing as boys’ or girls’ clothes. There’s just clothes. You get to decide what you like and what feels comfy.”

Thea bit her lip, torn between what she’d always been told and what she was hearing now. “But… what if it’s wrong?” she whispered.

Agatha appeared then, Violet on her hip and a faint smile tugging her lips. “Nothing about being comfortable in your clothes is wrong, Thea,” she said matter-of-factly. “Your mother may think differently, but in this house, we make our own rules.” She arched one brow, that professor’s authority sliding into her tone. “And I say you’ll be much happier today in jeans and a soft shirt than in that stuffy uniform.”

Nicky bounced on his bed. “Yeah! You can wear my dinosaur shirt! It’s the coolest.”

Thea giggled despite herself but still looked uncertain.

Rio exchanged a quiet glance with Agatha, and then her lips quirked with mischief. “Tell you what,” she said brightly, turning her gaze down to Violet. “If you’re not sure, we’ll prove it. Because Violet is going to wear some of Nicky’s old clothes today too.”

“Mine?” Violet squeaked, blinking at the sudden attention. She had only caught onto the rhythm of the conversation, not the meaning, but she clapped her hands anyway, delighted.

“Yes, you,” Agatha said, smirking as she set the toddler on the floor. “Your Mom is about to raid the closet.”

Rio disappeared into the adjoining room where they kept a box of Nicky’s hand-me-downs. A moment later she returned, holding up a tiny pair of faded jeans and a bright orange t-shirt with a roaring lion splashed across the front. “Perfect.”

Violet squealed as Agatha slipped the clothes on her, patting the lion proudly once she was dressed. She toddled over to Thea and spun clumsily in a circle as if to show off her outfit.

“See?” Rio said, crouching again by Thea. “If Violet can rock Nicky’s old lion shirt, then so can you.”

Thea looked from Violet’s happy grin to Nicky’s encouraging nod. Something in her expression cracked wide open—like a door had been pushed against long enough and finally gave way. Slowly, she let her shoulders relax.

“…Okay,” she said at last, almost shy. “I do wanna try the dinosaur one.”

“Good choice,” Nicky announced with the impoftance of a fashion critic. He dove into his drawer and pulled it out, a soft green shirt with a cartoon diplodocus grinning on the front.

Thea took it carefully, as though it were something rare and delicate. She slipped off her pyjama’s top, then tugged the shirt on. It fit perfectly, comfortable and loose. Her whole face lit up with a grin that was entirely unguarded.

“This feels…” She paused, searching for the right word. “This feels better.”

Agatha’s expression softened. “That’s because it’s yours now, Thea. Clothes are meant to make you feel like yourself.”

Nicky nodded emphatically. “And now we’re matching! Becaus I’m gonna wear my T-rex one .”

Violet, not to be outdone, stomped her little feet and declared, “Me! Me!” before plopping herself against Thea’s knee.

Rio laughed, ruffling Nicky’s curls. “Looks like you’ve started a revolution, kiddo.” She turned back to Thea. “And don’t you worry. No matter what your mom says, here you get to wear whatever makes you smile.”

Thea beamed, touching the diplodocus on her chest like it was something so special she had never seen bvefore.

By the time everyone was ready, the day had settled into one of those crisp, bright Saturdays that seemed made for being outdoors. Rio was the one who suggested it first—“Why don’t we take them all to the park before lunch? Let them burn some energy.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow as she tied back her hair, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Three children hyped on pancakes and freedom. Yes, love, the park sounds exactly like the kind of chaos you thrive on.”

And so it was decided. Jackets were tugged on, Violet’s tiny sneakers were strapped in place, and a small bag with snacks and water bottles was slung over Rio’s shoulder before they made their way out of the house.

The park, just a fifteen minutes walk away, was already buzzing with families when they arrived. The moment Nicky spotted the playground, he let out an excited whoop and dashed ahead, Thea right on his heels. Agatha called after them to stay where they could see, but both kids were already halfway up the ladder to the climbing tower, giggling loudly as they scrambled.

Rio, holding Violet’s little hand, shook her head with amusement. “I swear, Nicky is part squirrel.”

Violet, of course, immediately decided she was part squirrel too. “Me! Me up!” she demanded, toddling determinedly toward the same climbing structure. Her little legs carried her as far as the first step before she stopped, wobbling, and reached up for the bars with fierce determination.

Rio sighed, already moving in. “Oh no, little dragon, not today.” She scooped her up under the arms before Violet could even attempt to hoist herself higher. The toddler squealed in protest, wriggling dramatically. “Up, Mama! Up!”

“Up? No way. You’re way too tiny for that tower.” Rio spun her around in her arms instead, peppering her ckeeks with kisses until Violet shrieked with laughter, kicking her little sneakers. “I’ll tell you what—you can climb the slide with me later, but right now you’re staying with us.”

Violet pouted, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk’s, but the second Agatha bounced a small ball toward her across the grass, she forgot all about climbing.

Thea, meanwhile, was in heaven. She and Nicky had scaled the rope net and were dangling precariously from the monkey bars, their shoes caked with dust and their hands black with grit. At home, she knew, her mother would have scolded her for ruining her dress, or for being unladylike, or for shrieking as loudly as she was now. But here—nobody minded. Nobody was telling her to be quiet or to sit still.

“Watch this!” she called down proudly before swinging herself across two bars and landing with a triumphant thud.

“Good job, Thea!” Nicky whooped, mimicking her exactly, and they both burst into laughter as they went sprinting off toward the see-saw.

Agatha, sitting on the grass with Violet in her lap, tilted her head to watch them. “She’s glowing,” she murmured to Rio, who had plopped down beside her.

“Of course she is,” Rio said softly, her eyes following the little girl. “She finally gets to just… be a kid.” She reached out to brush a smudge of dirt off Violet’s cheek as the toddler clutched the ball proudly. “Like she’s supposed to.”

Agatha’s hand slipped over her wife’s for a moment, squeezing. There was something unspoken between them—an ache that came from seeing the contrast between what Thea had at home and what she had here. But neither of them said it out loud.

Instead, they turned their attention back to Violet, who was busily trying to throw the ball as far as her two-year-old strength would allow. It went about five feet before rolling further a few more inches.

“Nice throw!” Rio said with exaggerated enthusiasm, clapping. “You’re gonna be an athlete, Vivi.”

“Bawoon!” Violet exclaimed proudly.

Agatha picked up the ball and tossed it gently toward Rio, who caught it one-handed with a grin. “Not bad,” she teased her wife. “You’ve still got your reflexes.”

Rio leaned closer with a smirk. “You should know better than anyone I have perfect aim and very good finger dexterity.”

Agatha swatted her arm, laughing under her breath, and sent the ball rolling back toward the toddler. Violet clapped wildly, babbling a mix of words and nonsense and kicked it back.

Meanwhile, Nicky and Thea had started climbing again, inventing elaborate games as they went. “We’re explorers!” Nicky declared, balancing along a beam.

“No, pirates!” Thea insisted, grabbing a stick from the ground to wave like a sword.

“Pirates who find treasure,” Nicky amended quickly. “And the treasure is… snacks!”

Thea cackled and agreed, both of them tumbling off the beam into the dirt as though struck down by imaginary cannons. They rolled around laughing until they were covered in dust.

Agatha just shook her head fondly. “You’d think they hadn’t eaten pancakes the size of their heads this morning.”

“They’re running on pure joy,” Rio said, smiling despite herself. “And mischief. Definitely mischief.”

At one point, Violet toddled determinedly toward the climbing frame again, her little fists clenched in resolve. Rio intercepted her once more, swooping her up before her tiny sneakers touched the first bar. This time, Violet dissolved into squeals of laughter as Rio blew raspberries against her tummy, making her wriggle like a fish.

“Too small, Vivi,” Rio said firmly, setting her back on the grass. “But you’ve got Mama and me instead.”

And with that, the three of them fell into a rhythm of their own little game: Violet clutching the ball, tossing it toward Agatha, who rolled it to Rio, who gently lobbed it back. Each round brought new giggles, new shouts of “Mine!” from Violet, and applause from her moms for every clumsy catch.

By the time the morning stretched into late morning, Thea’s cheeks were flushed pink, Nicky’s knees were grass-stained, and Violet had collapsed briefly in Agatha’s lap for a rest.

But then, unexpectedly, it started to rain. One moment the sun was peeking through the clouds, painting everything in bright green and gold, and the next, large drops of water plinked against the playground equipment.

Nicky looked up first. “Moms—it’s raining!”

Rio squinted at the sky. “Oh, it’s just a sprinkle, it’ll—” She didn’t even get to finish before the heavens opened, turning the sprinkle into a full-on downpour.

The kids shrieked with laughter as the first sheets of rain pelted the park. Agatha grabbed Violet instinctively, shielding her with one arm while waving the others toward the nearest shelter. “Quick, under the climbing tower!”

They scrambled forward, slipping and sliding through wet grass until they tumbled into the small covered nook beneath the structure—a little wooden platform that children usually used as a “pirate ship” base. Today, it became their storm refuge.

All of them were soaked through within seconds. Rio’s curls clung damply to her face, Agatha’s shirt was plastered against her skin, and Violet’s tiny pigtails dripped like little fountains. Yet nobody seemed upset. Quite the opposite.

Nicky and Thea stuck their arms out of the open sides, palms up, squealing as rainwater pooled in their hands. “It’s cold!” Thea shrieked, before flicking her fingers at Nicky.

“Hey!” Nicky yelped, then retaliated immediately, sending a spray of raindrops right back.

“Splash fight!” he declared, his voice echoing under the wooden beams.

Thea was all too happy to join in, and soon both cousins were laughing hysterically, shaking their wet hands in each other’s faces and splattering rain everywhere.

Violet, attached against Agatha’s hip, squirmed mightily. “Wain! Wain! Me go wain!” she babbled, already climbing out of the little bench as if she could throw herself into the storm.

“Oh no, little water sprite,” Agatha said firmly, holding her back as Violet wriggled with all her two-year-old might. “You’ll catch a chill.”

But Violet was nothing if not determined. She made another grab toward the open space, her cheeks flushed with excitement. Rio quickly intercepted, swooping in from the other side.

“Gotcha!” she said, planting noisy kisses all over Violet’s damp cheek. The toddler squealed indignantly, kicking her legs, but her laughter betrayed her delight.

The rain hammered down around them, filling the air with that sweet earthy smell that came after a proper downpour. Their little hideout echoed with the sound of droplets drumming on wood.

After a few minutes, it was clear that just watching wasn’t enough. Rio, wiping water out of her eyes, grinned mischievously at her wife. “What do you think, love—should we let them win this splash war?”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, elegant even while soaked. “Oh, absolutely not. If anything, we should teach them how it’s done.”

Before Nicky or Thea could react, Agatha reached out and flicked her wet hand toward them, sending a spray of droplets across their already damp hair. Rio followed instantly, joining the fray with a dramatic splash aimed at Nicky’s forehead.

“Hey! Moms aren’t supposed to play!” Nicky shouted, his grin so wide it threatened to split his face.

“Correction,” Rio said, scooping Violet into her arms while managing another splash with her free hand, “Moms alwaysplay. And they win.”

Thea shrieked with laughter, retaliating fiercely. The nook quickly dissolved into chaos: four sets of hands splashing, flicking, and spraying each other, Violet clapping wildly and shouting “Wain! Wain!” like a chant, as though she were cheering everyone on.

They were drenched, their hair plastered, their clothes sticking—but the laughter kept bubbling over, unstoppable.

At one point, Nicky grabbed Thea’s hand. “We need a team plan!” he whispered dramatically. “Kids versus Moms!”

Thea nodded solemnly, as though this were the most important alliance of her life. Together, they lunged at Rio and Agatha, both flinging rainwater with double the effort.

Rio gasped theatrically. “Ambush! Love, they’re an army now!”

Agatha shook her head, laughing even as water dripped down her nose. “We’re outnumbered, but not outmatched.” She retaliated by tickling Nicky’s ribs until he collapsed in giggles, unable to fight back.

Meanwhile, Violet wriggled free enough to slap her tiny wet palms against Rio’s cheeks. “Splash, Mama!” she giggled, proud of herself.

“Oh, so you’re joining their side, too?” Rio asked, feigning betrayal. “Traitor!”

The little girl just laughed harder, her curls dripping over her forehead.

By the time the splash war subsided, all of them were breathless with laughter. Their little shelter smelled of wet wood and grass, their clothes heavy and damp, but no one cared. They sat in a huddle, catching their breath, grinning at each other like crzy people.

“I think we won,” Thea said finally, brushing her soaked bangs out of her face.

“No way,” Nicky argued. “The moms won. Mama always wins.”

“Excuse you,” Rio said, poking his side. “Mom wins too, you know.”

Violet clapped, clearly having no idea what the argument was about but happy to be included. “Win! Win!”

Agatha reached over, brushing a wet curl away from Rio’s temple. “Honestly,” she said softly, with that small smile that made Rio’s chest feel warm despite the chill, “I think we all won.”

And in that little rain-drenched corner of the park, with laughter still ringing around them and puddles forming at their feet, it was impossible to argue.

By the time the rain slowed to a mist, the park was shining. Puddles glittered on the pavement, grass sparkled with droplets, and everything smelled like earth and fresh leaves. The little hideout beneath the climbing structure no longer echoed with the roar of falling rain, but instead with the soft drip-drip-drip of water sliding off beams and branches.

“Alright, my little soaked ducks,” Rio announced, standing and brushing her wet curls back from her face. “Time to head home before we all grow gills.”

Violet, who had been snuggled against Agatha’s side, immediately reached her arms up toward Rio. “Up! Up, Mama!” she demanded, her sleepy voice bursting with renewed energy.

Rio obliged with a grin, hoisting the toddler onto her shoulders. Violet squealed with delight as her new perch gave her a towering view of the wet park. She slapped her hands against Rio’s damp curls and bounced. “High! Me high!”

“Careful up there, captain,” Rio teased, steadying her small legs with strong hands. “You’re gonna start steering me like a ship.”

Agatha shook her head, smiling despite her soaked state. “You realize you’re only encouraging her, right?”

“Encouragement is good for growth,” Rio retorted, earning a little giggle-snort from Nicky.

The older kids, meanwhile, weren’t ready to abandon the fun just yet. They ran ahead a few feet, stomping with glee in every puddle they could find. Water splashed up their legs, their sneakers squelched with every jump, and they were laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

“Look!” Nicky yelled, jumping into a particularly large puddle and sending a wave straight up his shins. “It’s like a mini lake!”

Thea joined him immediately, splashing with both feet. “We’re making waves!” she declared, hopping up and down so hard she nearly lost her balance.

Agatha called after them, “Try not to bring the entire lake home with you!” But her tone was indulgent, not scolding.

Eventually, the novelty wore off, and both kids circled back, dripping and giggling. Without hesitation, Nicky grabbed one of Agatha’s hands, and Thea shyly reached for the other. Agatha’s heart softened as she looked down at the two small, damp faces beaming up at her. She tightened her grip, her long fingers wrapping warmly around their little ones.

The walk home turned into a quiet, content procession: Violet perched high on Rio’s shoulders, giggling whenever she swayed left or right; Thea and Nicky holding Agatha’s hands on either side, skipping occasionally and chattering about how they had “definitely won the splash war”, and the two moms trading glances that carried equal parts amusement and love.

By the time they reached the house, all five of them were dripping wet, leaving small puddles on the porch. Rio leaned down so Violet could slide off her shoulders, though the toddler clung dramatically before flopping into her mother’s arms with a giggle.

“Alright, everyone straight to the bathroom,” Agatha instructed, her voice carrying that efficient warmth that made kids actually listen. “We’re not sitting on the couch until we’re dry.”

Rio disappeared briefly and reemerged with a stack of fluffy towels. She handed them out like prizes, wrapping one snugly around Violet before plopping the toddler on the rug to wriggle like a little burrito. Nicky immediately tried to wrap his towel into a cape, while Thea dabbed at her dripping hair carefully, like she was half-convinced she wasn’t really allowed to be too rough.

Agatha crouched to help her, gently rubbing the towel across her niece’s damp bangs. “Here, sweetheart, you don’t have to be so careful—it’s just a towel. That’s what it’s for.”

Thea’s cheeks pinked, but she smiled shyly and leaned into her aunt’s gentle hands.

Once everyone was dry enough to stop dripping, Rio clapped her hands together. “Alright, team. Who’s hungry?”

“Me!” Nicky shouted immediately.

“Me too!” Thea chimed, raising her hand as if she were in class.

“Sheese!” Violet added, with absolute certainty.

“Well, lucky for you,” Rio said, scooping the toddler up onto her hip, “I was just thinking grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. Perfect rainy-day food.”

The kitchen quickly became a scene of cheerful chaos. Agatha buttered bread at the counter while Rio sliced cheese, and the kids, claiming they were “helping,” hovered at their elbows.

“Can I put the bread on the pan now?” Nicky asked eagerly, already reaching before Agatha caught his wrist.

“Not yet, darling. Hot stove.” She kissed his knuckles and turned him back gently.

Thea, meanwhile, had discovered the cheese slices. “Can I taste one? Just one? Please, Aunty Rio?” she asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“Just one,” Rio said firmly, sliding the plate closer. But of course, once Thea took one slice, Nicky immediately snagged one too, and Violet reached for the plate with both hands, chanting, “Sheese! Mine!”

Agatha sighed, though her lips twitched with a smile. “At this rate, we’ll have no cheese left to grill.”

“It’s quality control,” Rio said solemnly, biting into a slice herself. “We can’t feed the family subpar cheese.”

The kids erupted in giggles, emboldened by Moms’ and Aunties’ mischief. Soon all three of them were sneaking bites whenever the moms turned their backs. By the time the first sandwiches hit the pan, nearly half the cheese had mysteriously disappeared.

Still, the smell of butter sizzling and cheese melting filled the kitchen, wrapping around them like another blanket. Agatha flipped sandwiches while Rio corralled the kids into setting the table. Plates clattered, napkins were folded (badly), and Violet proudly plunked a spoon at each spot from her spot sitting on the middle of the table for now, even though spoons weren’t needed.

When the sandwiches were finally ready, the family gathered around the table—hair still damp, clothes replaced with fresh ones, cheeks pink from laughter and the warmth of home.

Nicky took a big bite and immediately announced, “Best grilled cheese ever.”

Thea nodded vigorously, her eyes wide as she chewed. “Better than the ones at home,” she whispered, almost to herself, but both moms caught it.

Violet, too small to care about comparisons, stuffed half of her own smaller sandwich into her mouth at once and declared triumphantly: “Sheese! Gooood.”

Lunch was nearly done, plates smeared with crumbs and cheese crusts, when Agatha’s phone buzzed against the counter. She reached for it almost absentmindedly, expecting a colleague or perhaps one of her students with a question. But when she saw the name on the screen, her entire expression tightened.

“Margaret,” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

Rio raised an eyebrow as she reached to gather Violet’s crusts. “Already?”

Agatha sighed, thumb swiping over the screen to open the message. It was short, clipped, as though each word had been typed with impatience.

Margaret: I’ll be there in an hour to pick up Theodora. She’d better be ready by then.

No greeting. No thank you. No acknowledgment that her daughter had turned up at their doorstep unannounced. Just command.

Agatha exhaled through her nose, jaw tight. She looked across the table at Thea, who was still nibbling the corner of her sandwich, bright-eyed and blissfully unaware. “Darling,” she said carefully, trying to sound gentle. “That was your mother. She’ll be here in about an hour to take you home.”

Thea froze. Her half-eaten sandwich slid from her fingers onto the plate. For a second, she didn’t move at all. Then her little face crumpled like paper, her lips trembling as she tried to keep them pressed together.

“No,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I don’t want to go.”

Agatha’s heart clenched so hard she thought it might split. She pushed her chair back immediately and held out her arms. Thea didn’t hesitate—she launched herself across the space and into Agatha’s lap, burying her face in the crook of her aunt’s neck.

“I don’t want to go back there,” Thea sobbed, clutching at Agatha’s shirt with small, desperate fists. Her thin shoulders shook with each breath, and soon she was crying so hard she could barely get the words out. “Please don’t make me.”

Agatha wrapped her arms tightly around her niece, one hand smoothing her damp hair back over her head, the other stroking her back in steady circles. She bent her head, pressing a kiss to the crown of Thea’s head. “Shh, my darling, I know. I know.”

Rio stood slowly, her throat thick with emotion. She came around the table and crouched beside them, resting a hand on Thea’s knee. Her voice was steady, warm, promising. “Sweetheart, listen to me. This doesn’t mean goodbye forever. You’ll come back here, I promise. We’ll talk to your mom, and we’ll make sure you can visit us again. You’ll always have us.”

But Thea just shook her head harder against Agatha’s neck, her tears soaking through the collar of Agatha’s shirt. “I don’t want to go home,” she wailed. “I don’t want to!”

Across the table, Nicky’s wide eyes brimmed with his own tears. His lower lip trembled before he finally pushed his chair back with a scrape. Without a word, he shuffled around the table and climbed right up onto Agatha’s lap beside Thea. He threw his arms around his cousin, squeezing her tightly even as he buried his own face against Agatha’s shoulder.

“Don’t take her,” he whispered fiercely, voice shaking. “She can stay here with us. She can stay in my room forever.”

That did it. Agatha felt her own eyes sting as she looked over the top of their heads at Rio, who looked equally stricken.

And then, as though the room wasn’t already full of heartbreak, Violet—who had been watching the scene from her high chair with wide, curious eyes—suddenly let out a piercing wail. Her tiny fists pounded against the tray, her little face scrunched red with distress. She didn’t understand exactly what was happening, but she knew everyone was upset, and that was enough to set her off.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rio murmured, quickly scooping the toddler up. Violet immediately wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck, still crying, demanding to be part of the storm of emotions.

Within moments, all three children—Thea, Nicky, and Violet, plus the unseen child inside Agatha’s heart—were wrapped up in one enormous, tangled family hug. Agatha held Thea and Nicky as close as she possibly could, one arm curved protectively around their backs, while Rio leaned in with Violet on her hip, wrapping the other side of the circle.

It wasn’t neat or tidy. Thea was sobbing openly, Nicky was sniffling, Violet was wailing in confusion. Agatha’s shirt was damp with tears, and Rio had to shift her grip to keep Violet from sliding down. But the five of them clung together anyway, a messy, imperfect knot of love and sorrow and promise.

“We’re here,” Agatha whispered, her voice low and steady in Thea’s ear. “We’re always here, no matter what. You are not alone.”

Rio added softly, “Family isn’t just where you live, Thea. Family is here too. You belong with us just as much as you belong anywhere.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but crying and holding on. But slowly, eventually, Thea’s sobs quieted to hiccups. Nicky rubbed her back clumsily, whispering little reassurances only a child could think of: “I’ll keep your pillow safe until you come back. We’ll save our puzzles. Violet will save you some of her cheese.”

That earned a watery laugh from Thea, muffled against Agatha’s neck.

Agatha kissed her temple again, her hand still stroking the little girl’s hair. “See? You’ll be back here before you know it. And until then, we’ll be thinking about you every single day.”

Violet had stopped wailing, though her cheeks were still damp, and she pressed her face against Rio’s shoulder, sucking her thumb and watching her brother and cousin with big, solemn eyes.

When the storm of tears finally passed and the house returned to a quieter rhythm, the hour had grown late enough that Agatha and Rio knew they had to start preparing Thea for her mother’s arrival. Neither of them wanted to—the sight of Thea curled on the couch now between Nicky and Violet, her small face still blotchy from crying, was enough to make their hearts ache all over again—but they couldn’t put it off.

Agatha glanced at the clock, then at Rio. Her wife gave her a soft, resigned nod.

“Thea, darling,” Agatha said gently, smoothing a hand over the little girl’s shoulder, “it’s time to get ready before your mother comes.”

Thea’s lips pressed together. “Do I have to?”

“I’m afraid so, love.” Agatha brushed a kiss against her temple. “But we’ll do it together.”

Thea sighed, but she didn’t protest when Rio coaxed her off the couch and led her upstairs. Nicky immediately jumped up to follow, but Agatha caught his hand. “Let your cousin have a little quiet with Mom, sweetheart. You’ll see her in just a minute.”

Nicky frowned but obeyed, settling back down with Violet, who was now happily babbling to Señor Scratchy on the rug, apparently not fazed anymore by all the earlier tears.

Upstairs, in the bedroom, Rio gathered the uniform from the floor and placed the neat pleated skirt and collared blouse on the bed. Thea stared at them with a deep scowl, dragging her toes against the carpet.

Rio crouched down to her level, her hands resting lightly on Thea’s small shoulders. “I know you don’t like them, sweet girl,” she said softly. “But just for now, okay? We’ll make it quick.”

Thea puffed her cheeks out in frustration but nodded. She wriggled into the stiff uniform, and Rio helped straighten the collar and smooth the fabric down, her hands deliberate and careful, never tugging or yanking. She kept up a steady stream of reassurance. “Almost done. You can keep writing to us just like you’ve done so far, and we’ll keep replying just like always. There we go. Not so bad, right?”

When they came back down, Agatha was waiting in the living room with a brush and a soft smile. “One last thing, sweetheart. We’ll do your hair nicely.”

Thea froze mid-step. Her eyes flicked to the brush, and her face twisted with apprehension. “I don’t like when people do my hair,” she blurted. Her little fists clenched at her sides. “It always hurts.”

Agatha’s heart clenched. She immediately set the brush down on her lap and opened her arms instead. “Oh, my darling, I promise you it won’t hurt. Not with me. I’ll be very gentle.”

Thea still looked doubtful, her chin tucking toward her chest. That was when Rio swooped in, plopping onto the arm of the couch with an exaggerated sigh. “Thea, you know Agatha does my hair all the time, and look—” She grabbed a strand of her own dark waves and tossed it theatrically over her shoulder. “Do I look like I’ve been tortured?”

Thea’s mouth twitched, caught between a smile and her stubborn fear.

“And even Vivi doesn’t cry,” Rio added, pointing toward the toddler, who was chewing on Yellow Dragon’s tail. “And trust me, that one cries about everything.”

That earned a small giggle, muffled but real.

Agatha patted the spot in front of her knees. “Come, my dear. Let’s give it a try. If it hurts even once, you tell me and we’ll stop.”

After a long pause, Thea edged closer and sat down cross-legged on the floor. She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, but she didn’t protest when Agatha picked up the brush.

True to her word, Agatha’s hands were impossibly gentle. She worked slowly, carefully, guiding the brush through Thea’s fine blond hair in soft strokes. There were no sharp tugs, no impatient pulls, only the soothing rhythm of bristles gliding from crown to ends.

“There we are,” Agatha murmured, her voice calm and steady. “See? Not so scary.”

Thea’s shoulders, tense at first, began to loosen. Her small body relaxed inch by inch until she was leaning slightly back against Agatha’s knees, comforted by the touch.

Rio, watching from the armchair, crossed her arms smugly. “Told you. Mama’s got magic hands.”

Agatha chuckled under her breath but kept braiding, her fingers swift and practiced. She had braided her own long hair nearly every day since she was very young, and later Rio’s and Violet’s too and brushed Nicky’s, so the movements came as naturally as breathing. She parted the hair into two neat sections and began weaving them together, humming quietly as she went.

When the first braid was done, she tied it off with a small elastic. “One,” she announced softly. “And now the second.”

By the time she finished the other side, Thea’s expression had shifted entirely. She looked less like a little girl bracing for pain and more like one basking in unexpected tenderness.

“All done,” Agatha said warmly. She reached for the mirror she’d set on the table and held it out so Thea could see herself.

Thea’s eyes widened. Her hands flew to her head, fingertips brushing over the neat, even braids trailing down her shoulders. “It… it didn’t hurt,” she whispered, almost disbelieving.

Agatha smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Of course it didn’t, darling. Doing hair shouldn’t hurt.”

“It looks… pretty.” Thea’s voice was soft, awed. She tilted her head in the mirror, grinning a little as the braids swung with her movement.

“You are pretty,” Rio corrected immediately, standing to crouch beside her niece. “The braids just show it off.”

Thea beamed, cheeks flushed pink, and for the first time since the news of Margaret’s arrival, there was no shadow behind her smile.

Agatha set the brush aside and rested her hands on Thea’s shoulders. “There. Ready to face your mother. And remember, no matter what she says, you know now that your hair can be done gently, with love.”

Thea turned her head back toward her aunt, eyes shining. “Thank you, Auntie Agatha.”

Agatha kissed her cheek softly. “Always, my darling.”

Half an hour later, the living room was once again alive with the pleasant buzz of children’s chatter. Thea and Nicky were sprawled on the rug, foreheads nearly touching as they tried to fit the final pieces of the puzzle they had begun the day before. Violet sat nearby with Yellow Dragon in one hand and a wooden block in the other, occasionally leaning over to plop a block right onto the puzzle with great satisfaction, as if she were helping in the most crucial way. Every time she did it, the older kids laughed and adjusted around her, letting her feel important.

It was a scene that made Agatha’s heart warm as she stood in the doorway watching them, her long hair loose around her shoulders. But the warmth dimmed a little when the doorbell rang. She and Rio exchanged a knowing look across the room. Time was up.

Agatha smoothed her dress, schooling her face into polite neutrality, and went to open the door.

On the other side stood Margaret. Her cousin was dressed sharply, as always, with her own blonde hair pulled into a tight bun and her lips pressed into a line so severe that it looked carved there. Her eyes swept Agatha up and down in that way that always managed to feel like a judgment.

“Margaret,” Agatha said smoothly, her voice calm but cool.

“Agatha.” Margaret’s tone was clipped, polite in the most brittle sense of the word.

They stood there for a beat in silence, the kind of silence filled with years of family tension and unspoken dislike.

Then Rio appeared behind her wife, leaning casually against the doorframe. She wore one of Agatha’s cardigans draped off her shoulders and a lazy grin that was far too sweet to be sincere. “Well, if it isn’t cousin Margaret,” Rio drawled. “What a surprise. You know, we were just saying how wonderful it is to have a good, strong, god-fearing woman at the door.”

Agatha hid her smile behind a small cough. Margaret’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, clearly catching the sarcasm.

“We were expecting you,” Agatha cut in smoothly before her wife could pour more gasoline on the fire.

“Yes, well.” Margaret sniffed, stepping inside. Her eyes swept the room critically. “Where’s Theodora?”

At the sound of her full name, Thea scrambled up from the rug, tugging down her uniform skirt nervously. “Here, Mother.”

Margaret’s gaze landed on her daughter, and for once, her lips curved faintly upward. “Good girl. You look proper.” She reached out, smoothing one of the tidy blond braids Agatha had woven earlier. “Finally, someone managed to do your hair without it being a mess.”

Thea kept her head bowed, though she flicked her eyes sideways toward Agatha and Rio.

Margaret crouched slightly, peppering her daughter with questions. “You said your prayers before meals? You went to bed on time? You stayed away from the television?”

“Yes,” Thea answered quickly each time, nodding so vigorously her braids bounced.

“And you read from your devotional before sleeping?”

“Yes.”

Margaret tilted her head, suspicion lingering for a moment. But Thea’s innocent face, rehearsed to perfection, seemed to reassure her.

Behind Margaret’s back, Rio caught Thea’s eye and gave her an exaggerated wink. The girl almost giggled but bit her lip to keep her composure.

Agatha stepped forward, her tone warm but pointed. “She was an absolute angel, Margaret. Truly. Theodora was sweet, polite, and a joy to have.”

“Yes,” Margaret said briskly, clearly pleased to hear her daughter described that way. She stood back to her full height, addressing the room like a judge summing up a case. “I trust there were no… inappropriate influences around her?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Rio said sweetly, clasping her hands together with faux innocence. “Unless you count the corrupting influence of doing puzzles, and educational games and science experiments about rainwater and physics’ influence on the melting of cheese.”

Agatha shot her wife a warning look, but Rio just batted her eyes. Margaret’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t rise to the bait.

“May I—” Thea’s small voice broke the tension. She looked from her mother to her aunts, her courage faltering but not failing. “May I… come back sometime? Please?”

Margaret blinked at her, caught off guard. “Why would you need to? You have a home.”

Thea’s cheeks reddened, but she held her ground. “I just… liked it here.”

Agatha’s heart clenched, and she reached instinctively to rest a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

For a long moment, Margaret looked as if she would flatly refuse. Then something flickered in her eyes, some private calculation. Perhaps she thought exposure to her cousin’s household would “prove a point” or keep Theodora occupied in ways that would take her out of her hair. Or perhaps she believed her daughter’s model behavior meant that she had finally “won” some unspoken battle. Or was a positive influence on her cousin’s wicked lifestyle.

“I will have to discuss it with your father,” Margaret said at last, her voice cold but measured. “But perhaps… once a month.”

Agatha exhaled softly, a small smile curving her lips. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was something. If it were up to her, they would have Thea over every damn day of the year. “That sounds wonderful. We’ll take it.”

“Don’t think this excuses her behavior,” Margaret snapped. She turned to her daughter. “You will still have to write your lines for sneaking out. No child of mine will run wild and think she can do whatever she pleases.”

Thea flinched slightly but nodded.

Margaret straightened, smoothing her coat. “It’s time to go.”

Thea turned back to her family, her face crumpling for a moment before she plastered on a brave little smile. She hugged Agatha tight, then Rio, then Nicky and Violet.

“Bye, Auntie Agatha. Bye, Auntie Rio. Bye, Nicky. Bye, Vivi.”

“Bye, Thea,” Nicky said, his voice small.

Rio ruffled her niece’s hair gently. “See you soon, honey.”

Thea waved as Margaret ushered her out the door, her small figure disappearing towards her mother’s car.

When the door finally closed, the house felt strangely quiet. The puzzle lay half-finished on the rug, Violet clapped her little hands with no idea what had just happened, and Nicky leaned into Rio’s side, sighing.

Agatha turned toward her family with a bittersweet smile. “Well,” she murmured, “we made sure she had a good time. And maybe she’ll get to come back now.”

Rio slid an arm around her wife’s waist, pulling her close. “And if she does, we’ll make sure it’s the best day of her month.”

Nicky nodded solemnly, echoing, “The best.”

Agatha kissed the top of his head, her eyes lingering on the door. She could only hope Margaret would keep her word—but in her heart, she knew Thea had found a safe place to land, and that mattered more than anything.

*

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