Three days had passed.
Aria was home, safe and healing—but undeniably exhausted. The hospital stay had drained her more than either of them expected. She still moved slowly, her steps cautious, her body aching in ways no one had fully prepared her for.
Leon noticed.
He noticed everything.
So when Aria had tried to climb out of bed that morning to prepare a bottle for Elias, he'd gently pressed her back down with a kiss to her forehead and whispered, "Rest. I've got this."
And somehow, he really did.
By 9:15 AM, the house was alive with soft cries and cooing.
Leon moved through the nursery like a man on a mission—hair slightly tousled, t-shirt half tucked in, baby monitor in one pocket, and a tiny sock clinging to his shoulder.
In his ears, a sleek set of wireless earbuds piped in the quiet monotone of a video conference.
"Yes, Javier," he said calmly as he cleaned up a particularly creative diaper from Amara. "I read through the numbers—margin's too thin. We're pulling out of that supplier."
Amara kicked and squealed in protest. He adjusted the diaper one-handed while gently bouncing her with the other.
Leon scooped her up with practiced ease, lifting her to his chest.
"Mama's resting," he murmured, kissing her head. "You're stuck with Papa for now."
By 10:42 AM, he was bottle-feeding Lila with one arm while navigating a presentation on his tablet with the other.
"Slide six," he said, tapping the screen with his knuckle. "Right—no, that's not a delay, it's a redirection of labor. We're streamlining."
Lila blinked up at him, latched perfectly and happy as could be. Her tiny fingers curled around his thumb, and his voice softened just a little as he said, "We'll be fine. Move the timeline, not the goal."
The executive on the call assumed he was talking about the project.
He wasn't.
By noon, Aria shuffled out of the bedroom in one of his oversized sweaters, her eyes still a little hazy from sleep.
What she saw made her stop in the hallway and press a hand to her chest.
Leon stood in the living room, all three babies cradled in various configurations—Elias in a sling against his chest, Amara on his hip, and Lila snuggled up in the wrap tied around his waist. His voice was low but firm as he spoke into the earpiece.
"No, I'm still remote this week. Something urgent? Email me and flag it red. Otherwise, I'm not setting foot in the office."
He turned just enough to see her, his face lighting up at once. With one hand, he adjusted Elias's sling. With the other, he reached toward her.
"Hey. You okay?"
She stepped closer, her throat tight. "You're… you're managing all of this?"
He smiled. "Not perfectly. But they're fed, changed, and only mildly plotting a coup."
Aria laughed, a quiet, watery sound, and leaned against him as much as the babies between them allowed.
"You should be sleeping," he whispered, kissing her cheek.
"I wanted to see you. Them. All of you."
He reached for her hand and squeezed. "Then stay right here. We've got a few minutes before the next round of feedings."
"Do you ever plan on sleeping?"
He grinned. "Eventually. Maybe when they're in college."
Later that day, when the house was finally still again and the babies were napping in their bassinets, Leon tiptoed into the bedroom and found Aria journaling by the window.
She looked up and smiled. "They're asleep?"
"For now."
He slid into bed beside her, pulling her against his side.
She rested her head on his chest, fingers brushing over the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "You didn't have to do all of this."
"I wanted to do all of this," he murmured, his lips against her hair. "You gave them life. Let me carry it from here, just for a little while."
And in that quiet moment, the house no longer felt chaotic.
It felt whole.
It felt like home.