The cottage was tucked away in a quiet inlet by the sea, framed by golden grass and pine trees swaying softly in the breeze. It wasn't extravagant—just wood, stone, and the hush of waves rolling onto the pebbled shore. But it felt like another world.
Eliza stood barefoot on the porch, her hair pulled up, a mug of chamomile tea in hand. She watched Will walk along the shoreline, their daughter strapped to his chest in a baby carrier. He was talking to Lyra softly, pointing out tide pools and distant seabirds, his laugh carried faintly by the wind.
Eliza had never seen anything more perfect.
They'd needed this. After the last few whirlwind months—nights of broken sleep, back-to-back meetings, milestones, and growing pains—this stretch of silence was a gift neither of them had realized how desperately they craved.
Inside, the cottage smelled like fresh pine and sea salt. Will had lit a fire in the little stone hearth, and their bags lay forgotten in the entryway. Everything else could wait.
Lyra was napping by mid-afternoon, swaddled on the couch in a soft knit blanket, her tiny hands balled into fists near her rosy cheeks.
Eliza curled up beside Will on the porch swing, her head resting on his shoulder.
"I keep thinking she'll wake up," she whispered.
"I keep thinking I'm dreaming," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.
They watched the horizon in silence for a while, the swing creaking gently beneath them.
Later that evening, after a slow dinner they cooked together—grilled vegetables, fresh bread, and a bottle of wine—they took Lyra outside, bundled up, and sat beneath a sky full of stars. She reached for the blinking constellations with soft coos, her eyes wide with wonder.
"I used to think we had to go big to make memories," Eliza said, her voice soft.
Will glanced over. "And now?"
She leaned into him. "Now I think the quiet ones are the ones that last longest."
Will nodded. "This... this is the life I wanted. The one I didn't know how to ask for until you gave it to me."
"I still can't believe she's ours," Eliza whispered, looking at Lyra, who blinked up at them with sleep-drenched eyes.
"She's everything," Will said. "But you—you were my beginning."
They stayed outside until the chill crept in. Will carried Lyra inside while Eliza lingered a moment longer, staring up at the stars, her heart full in the way it hadn't been since she was a girl with wild dreams and no place to put them.
Now, she had everything.