It had been four days since Aria told Leon she was pregnant.
Four days of quietly moving through life as though the ground beneath them hadn't shifted.
She was still Aria Rousseau, with her sharp tongue and guarded silences. And he was still Leon Castellan, with the slow-burning composure that could turn ruthless when the world pressed too hard.
But beneath the surface, something new had begun to unfurl between them.
Now, the question lingered like a breath held too long: What comes next?
They were curled on the living room floor, of all places. A stack of unopened mail lay forgotten nearby, their coffee growing cold on the low table. Rain streaked across the windows, and London hummed beyond the glass, but the world in here was still.
"I should call Isobel," Aria said softly.
Leon looked up from the sleeve of her sweater he'd been toying with. "Your sister?"
"She's the first person I'd want to tell. Even if she'll scream."
"Will she?" he asked, not mockingly—genuinely curious.
Aria smiled faintly. "Not out of judgment. She'll scream because she'll be happy. She always wanted to be the 'cool aunt.'"
He watched her for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
"And your father?" he asked gently.
Her smile faltered.
Aria turned her head, gaze fixed on the window. "That's… trickier."
Leon shifted, reaching for her hand. "You don't have to tell him yet. Or at all. Not until you're ready."
"I'm not afraid of him," she said quietly. "But I think part of me wanted to build a perfect life before he ever found out. As if that would prove something."
He gave her hand a squeeze. "You don't need to prove a damn thing. Not to him. Not to anyone."
A beat passed. She breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth.
Then she nodded. "Okay. I'll call Isobel tomorrow. And you…?"
Leon hesitated.
"There's only one person I need to tell before anyone else," he said. "My mother."
Aria blinked, surprised.
"I thought…" she began, but he shook his head.
"We've had our distance. And history. But she deserves to know. And she'll want to meet you properly now. Not as a passing name in a conversation. As the woman carrying her grandchild."
Aria's chest tightened. "Are you sure she'll want that?"
Leon looked at her with something resolute and deeply sincere.
"She will. Because she knows me. And because you're the first person I've ever truly brought home, whether or not we've named it that."
She swallowed, throat thick.
He leaned in, resting his forehead lightly against hers. "We're starting a family, Aria. Not in theory. Not someday. Now. That means letting people in. A little at a time."
She nodded, heart caught somewhere between terror and wonder.
After a long silence, she whispered, "Should we schedule the first appointment? The doctor?"
Leon didn't flinch, didn't hesitate. "Yes. Tomorrow, if they'll take us."
"I want you there," she added quickly. "I need you there."
"You don't even have to ask."
He kissed her—soft and certain—and held her close as the rain deepened outside, as the weight of the world felt a little more bearable because they were carrying it together.
And as Aria closed her eyes, she realized this was the first time in her life she wasn't afraid of the future—only curious to meet it.