The morning light filtered through the wide windows of their new apartment, soft and golden, casting slow-moving patterns across the pale wooden floors. The air smelled faintly of fresh coffee, honeyed toast, and something faintly citrus—Leon had insisted on using organic oranges this time for her juice. A quiet moment had settled into their home like a warm quilt, the kind of peace that followed storms and near-misses.
Aria was nestled on the couch, her legs stretched out, a blanket covering her from the waist down. Her tablet rested beside her, untouched for once, and her eyes drifted toward Leon in the kitchen. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and ditched the blazer somewhere, now looking more like her impossibly handsome husband than a titan of global business.
He was on the phone, his tone low and composed.
"Clear the week. I'll be working remotely from now on. Only call me in if it's critical—and I mean it." A pause. "No, this isn't temporary. Prioritize Aria's wellbeing over Castellan Holdings. If you can't do that, I'll find someone who will."
He ended the call without waiting for a response, and turned to see her watching him. She blinked, cheeks pink.
"You're terrifying when you talk like that," she murmured, teasing lightly.
Leon's lips curved into the soft smile he reserved only for her. "Terrifying?" He walked over and sat on the edge of the couch, brushing his fingers gently across her hair. "I'm trying to be less terrifying, I promise."
"I didn't mean it like that." She leaned into his touch. "I mean, it's... weirdly hot. And sweet. Mostly sweet."
"You've already scared me once this week," he said, voice lowering, fingers lacing with hers. "Not again. This place—" He glanced around their still half-unpacked apartment. "—will become the safest corner of the world for you. For all of you."
She looked down at their joined hands, then slowly traced her thumb over his knuckle.
"Leon?"
"Mm?"
"I didn't mean to frighten you."
"I know," he said softly. "But it happened. And now I'll move heaven and earth to make sure it doesn't happen again."
He kissed her forehead gently, then pressed his cheek to the same spot, breathing her in. Aria closed her eyes.
For a while, they stayed like that. No urgent meetings. No flashing screens. No interruptions. Just the slow realization that their lives were changing—and so were they.
Later, he insisted on fluffing all the pillows before she could lie down properly, muttering something about "proper lumbar support" that made her giggle. And before she could reach for her laptop again, he whisked it away and handed her a romance paperback instead, saying sternly, "Doctor's orders: zero stress, and maximum fluff."
She rolled her eyes, but smiled against the spine of the book.
In that moment—amid soft laughter, the faint hum of the espresso machine, and a thousand tiny worries melting into domestic calm—Aria Castellan realized something that made her chest tighten in the best way.
Leon Castellan wasn't just going to be the father of her children.
He was already, irrevocably, home.