Chapter 72: My Moonlight, My Anchor
The morning sun poured lazily through the lace curtains of Seraphina's study, casting delicate shadows over the worn hardwood and scattered cushions. Golden light traced the edges of the room like the frame of a dream—soft, intimate, still. A breeze from the barely opened window stirred the lace, the scent of dew-drenched roses floating in from the courtyard.
Seraphina sat motionless in her reading nook, a teacup cooling at her elbow and a leather-bound workbook splayed open across her lap. Her pencil hovered over a half-solved formula, the graphite tip smudging the edge of a number she had already revised twice. It wasn't that the equations were hard. They rarely were.
It was that Eva was in her lap again.
Not sitting, not perching—no. Nestled. Folded into her like they were one seamless body. Like this was her rightful place in the universe. Her small arms looped around Seraphina's waist, her head pressed beneath her collarbone, and her bare toes curled contentedly under the hem of Seraphina's sweater. One hand was tangled in her braid, thumb stroking the strands in a rhythm that was half possession, half lullaby.
Seraphina didn't move. Couldn't. Every time she shifted—even to breathe—Eva only clung tighter.
"Ina," Eva whispered into the cotton of her shirt, her voice dreamy, damp with sleep. "You're working again."
"Trying to," Seraphina murmured back.
"You work too much." Eva didn't move her head, but her voice sharpened slightly. "You should slow down."
Seraphina blinked down at her, heart caught between protest and surrender. "I'm fine, moonlight."
"No," Eva said again, lifting her head just enough for her dark pale grey eyes to meet Seraphina's. They were not sleepy anymore. They were serious. "You're not."
A beat of silence passed.
"If you don't slow down," Eva said gravely, "no more kisses."
Seraphina gasped in mock horror, playing along. "You wouldn't dare."
Eva tilted her face upward and pressed a soft, unhurried kiss to her lips. "One more time," she whispered. "Then you promise."
Seraphina could feel the thud of her own heart in her throat. She smiled anyway, brushing a strand of hair from Eva's cheek. "If you kiss me again," she said softly, "I promise I'll slow down. But I'm not slowing down on you. You get every drop of my affection."
"Even when I'm demanding?"
"Even then."
"Even when I want twenty kisses in a row?"
"Especially then," Seraphina said, laughing quietly.
Eva grinned and immediately buried herself in her arms again. Seraphina bent forward and began to kiss her—cheeks, forehead, nose, eyebrows, the delicate shell of one ear, her neck. Each kiss was soft, intentional. A vow repeated over and over in gesture instead of words.
Eva giggled with each one, squirming in delight. "You forgot my lips again," she said, pretending to pout.
"I gave you twelve already."
"Doesn't count. You always save my lips for last."
Seraphina bent down and kissed her—slow, lingering, full. Eva melted into it.
When they parted, Eva whispered, "I love you, Ina."
And Seraphina, for once, didn't deflect. Didn't bury it in affection. She rested her cheek atop Eva's hair and whispered back, "I love you too, my moonlight."
*****
The rest of the morning unfolded like a watercolor dream. Eva listed her lunch desires with regal precision: carrot rice shaped like stars, egg animals with little peppercorn eyes, a side of cut fruit (only with the pink knife), and milk in the moon-glass cup. She wanted to eat on Seraphina's lap, then paint under the tree with the biggest shadow, but only if Seraphina didn't look "too sleepy."
Seraphina promised it all without hesitation.
Across the estate, in the sun-dappled music room with high ceilings and polished instruments, Vivienne and Evelyn sat in silence, watching the scene unfold through a cracked-open door.
"She's hopelessly gone," Vivienne murmured, sipping from a porcelain teacup.
"She always was," Evelyn answered, arms crossed, her tone calm and observant.
"She doesn't even know it's love."
Evelyn nodded slowly. "And Eva's too young to name it. But it's something. She's not like this with anyone else."
"She never let me hold her that way," Vivienne said, sounding more amused than bitter.
"That's because you're terrifying when you're not being flirty."
"You say that like it's a bad thing." Vivienne smiled.
"You were worse when we were kids," Evelyn said dryly.
Vivienne turned, amused. "Worse how?"
"You used to let me sleep in your bed just because I said I had a bad dream."
"You always had bad dreams."
"No. I had excuses. What I had was a you problem."
Vivienne chuckled, her voice honeyed. "And look at you now. Still chasing me."
"You say that like I stopped."
Vivienne didn't respond. She turned her eyes back to the distant study, where Eva clung to Seraphina like a starfish to its rock.
"Do you think it's too much?" Evelyn asked after a pause. Her voice was light, but there was real concern in the folds of her tone.
Vivienne sighed. "Children form attachments. It's natural. But this… this feels deeper. It's still innocent. But we'll have to guide it."
"Protect what's innocent," Evelyn echoed.
"And prune what might grow too wild too early," Vivienne finished.
They sat in silence again.
"If Eva's anything like me," Evelyn murmured, "Seraphina's in real trouble."
Vivienne smiled. "Darling, we were all in trouble the day Eva was born."
*****
That afternoon, Seraphina laid Eva down for a nap on the fainting couch, covered her with a hand-knitted blanket, and brushed a kiss to her brow.
Eva stirred but didn't wake. She trusted Seraphina enough to rest, and Seraphina cherished that with quiet reverence.
She slipped out and made her way to the training room. No sound followed her except the whisper of her steps and the echo of her determination.
She began with boxing drills—footwork first, then jabs. Her muscles were tight, her breathing shallow. But she pushed through. Next came kickboxing combos, then Sanda throws, and finally the swimming stretches she'd memorized for muscle retention.
Each strike, each extension of her limbs, felt like a blade being sharpened.
She trained because she remembered the mall.
The shriek.
The crowd swallowing Eva like a wave.
The sound of her voice crying out—"Ina!"
And the feeling of failure—sharp and sick and cruel.
She couldn't let it happen again.
She wouldn't.
So she burned herself for strength.
But each time Eva touched her, each time she giggled or whispered "mine," it was like cool water poured through the cracks of her armor. The steel of her resolve softened, just enough to remember: she wasn't just protecting Eva from the world.
She was trying to be a home, too.
*****
That night, when Seraphina returned to her room, Eva was already waiting for her—sitting in the middle of the bed in her sweater, knees drawn up to her chest.
"I missed you," Eva said simply.
"I was gone an hour."
"That's forever," Eva insisted.
Seraphina opened her arms.
Eva climbed into them immediately.
"Kiss me?"
Seraphina kissed her cheeks.
"More."
She kissed her forehead, her jaw, the tip of her nose.
"You forgot—"
"I didn't," Seraphina whispered. She kissed her lips, slowly.
"Happy now?"
Eva leaned her forehead against Seraphina's. "Almost."
Another kiss. And another.
Then they lay down together under the quilt, the room quiet except for the distant chirr of crickets and the soft breath of the wind outside.
"I want to stay with you forever," Eva whispered. "Even when I'm big."
Seraphina's heart ached in a way that was almost holy.
"You can always come back to me," she said. "Always."
Eva curled tighter into her. "I love you, Ina."
And this time, Seraphina didn't hesitate.
"I love you too, my moonlight."
And she meant it.
Every syllable.
Every breath.
Every kiss.