It happened two weeks later.
Eliza was on the floor, building block towers while Lyra circled them in a toddler's clumsy orbit. Will was making pancakes in the kitchen—one-handed as usual, because Lyra had become clingier these days. But this time, she'd crawled over to her mother instead.
Eliza stacked another piece. "And that's the roof—voilà! Engineer Lyra, hard at work."
Lyra's fingers batted the tower down.
Eliza gasped, mock-offended. "Saboteur!"
Lyra giggled—and then, with no warning, pulled herself to her feet against Eliza's knees. She wobbled once. Twice. Then—
One small step.
Then another.
Eliza blinked, not daring to breathe.
And then Lyra smiled wide, flung her arms forward, and tumbled into Eliza's lap. "Mama!"
Will dropped the spatula behind them.
"Mama," Lyra said again, delighted with the sound.
Eliza's heart cracked open. She wrapped her daughter close and held on like she never wanted to let go. The ache from before dissolved like sugar in tea. This was it. Her moment.
Will knelt beside them. "Guess she was saving the best for you."
Eliza looked up at him, eyes wet and laughing. "Damn right she was."
They didn't finish the pancakes. Or the tower. Or even clean up until later. Because that morning, Eliza got the thing she didn't even know she'd been craving—a step forward, a name spoken, and the arms of the two people she'd built her world around.