bonus chapter(2/4)
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The video was only thirty seconds long. Just a few moments of baby grunts, a small determined crawl, and Lyra's wide gummy smile when she reached her plush fox.
But it was enough.
They sent it to Juliet first. Then Maeve. Then, by the time it hit Serena's inbox, Eliza was already laughing with disbelief at how fast the reactions came flooding back.
OH MY GOD SHE'S MOVING??She's a genius. That's clearly advanced coordination. I saw it in a documentary.Are you CRYING in the background, Will?Put her in baby Olympics. Immediately.
By the time evening settled in, they had a small circle of people over—just a few close friends, ones who had become the kind of family they chose over and over again. There were pastries on the kitchen island, soft music playing from the speaker in the corner, and Lyra in her little lilac onesie nestled into Will's arm like she owned the world.
Juliet knelt down near the rug, watching the baby chew thoughtfully on the edge of her book. "So, this is the one who made Will Bennett cry like a man who'd seen God?"
Will didn't even flinch. "Twice, actually. She made me cry twice in the same hour."
Juliet smirked. "Pathetic."
"Completely," Eliza added from the other end of the couch, smiling into her glass of wine.
But the moment held longer than the laughter. And when Serena reached over to brush a crumb from Eliza's sweater, she leaned close enough to whisper, "You look… calm. I mean really. Happy."
Eliza blinked. Then slowly, she nodded.
"I think I am," she said quietly. "It's… strange. Not perfect. Not always easy. But I wake up and I don't have to pretend anymore. I love my work. I come home to people who are mine. I'm not trying to prove anything to anyone except… maybe just to myself."
Serena's eyes softened. "And?"
"I think I've proven it."
Will's voice came from beside her, low and teasing. "You proved it a long time ago."
Later, after everyone had gone and Lyra was asleep—curled up like a tiny comma between the two halves of their world—Will stood in the living room, looking around.
The room was warm and dim, golden light spilling from the lamp they'd picked out on a rainy Tuesday. The floor where Lyra had crawled was still scattered with her toys. The photo wall above the sideboard now held the picture Eliza had taken the day they brought her home from the hospital—Will holding Lyra like something sacred, Eliza smiling through exhaustion, her eyes full of raw love.
He didn't hear her come in at first.
"You're thinking," Eliza said gently, stepping up beside him.
"I'm remembering," he murmured, slipping his arm around her waist. "That first night we had dinner together. You were still wearing your mask. You didn't even sit down until I made you."
She smiled faintly. "And you thought I was terrifying."
"You were terrifying."
Eliza leaned her head on his shoulder. "And now?"
Will kissed the top of her head. "Now you're still terrifying. But I'm in love with you. And we have a daughter who's about to start tearing through this house like a tiny wrecking ball."
She laughed, soft and full. "She crawled across the rug today."
"I know."
"And somehow… so did we."
Will looked at her, then at the life they'd built. "Yeah. We did."