These two chapters are a bonus to celebrate the new collection received , and I will stand by my word and release two extra chapters for each new collection received 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳
Bonus Chapter(1/2)
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Nearly two weeks had passed since the day the triplets were born.
The days blurred together—feeds, cries, lullabies, bleary-eyed mornings and drowsy, love-heavy nights. But something had shifted in the air. The chaos had found a rhythm. The storm of the unknown had softened into something tender and sweet, something they were learning to call home.
And today, the sun had returned in full.
The soft gold of early spring filtered through the windows as Leon stood by the doorway, fastening the last strap on the baby carrier across his chest. Elias snoozed peacefully inside it, warm and content against his father's heart. Meanwhile, Aria stood nearby with Amara in her arms, cooing softly as she adjusted the tiny knitted cap on the baby's head.
Lila was nestled in the cushioned carrier seat, her round cheeks puffed with sleep, bundled up like royalty in layers of delicate fabric and fleece.
It had taken nearly an hour to prepare—diapers, bottles, pacifiers, burp cloths, backups for the backups. But they were doing it.
Their very first family outing.
The park was quiet.
Not empty, but hushed with the reverence of an early spring morning. The trees were beginning to bloom, delicate pinks and pale whites fluttering like confetti in the wind. The grass was soft and new, still damp from yesterday's rain but warm now beneath the sun's steady light.
Leon spread out the checkered blanket beneath a tall oak tree, smoothing it with one hand while supporting Elias with the other. Aria lowered herself carefully, settling Amara beside her, then reached to unbuckle Lila's carrier and draw her into her lap.
Three babies. One blanket. Two impossibly full hearts.
They didn't talk much at first.
There was too much to take in—the rustle of trees overhead, the hum of distant laughter from a child's swing, the way Amara blinked up at the sky like she couldn't quite believe it was real.
Leon leaned back on one hand, his other gently patting Elias's back.
"They've never felt wind like this before," he murmured, eyes soft.
Aria smiled, brushing Lila's cheek with the edge of her scarf. "Or sunlight on their skin. Or grass beneath the blanket."
They sat there, watching their children discover the world in the smallest ways—tiny fingers clutching at the air, little noses twitching at the scent of blooming flowers, eyes wide with quiet awe.
And for a while, that was enough.
Leon broke the silence first, his voice low and filled with amusement. "You know... I thought I'd be the one giving them the tour of life. But I think they're giving me one."
Aria looked over, smiling.
"What have they taught you so far?"
He thought for a moment, eyes drifting to each tiny face.
"That Lila doesn't believe in naps unless it's on someone's chest," he said dryly. "That Amara likes things just so. And that Elias doesn't cry—he waits for the right moment to make his point."
"Sounds familiar," Aria teased.
Leon raised a brow. "Are you saying I'm fussy?"
"I'm saying you're methodical."
"That's a kind way of saying it," he murmured, then looked at her more seriously. "I don't think I've ever been this happy."
Aria's smile softened. She glanced down at the three of them, now drowsing in their little cluster, fingers brushing each other in sleep.
"Neither have I."
Later, Leon took out his phone, holding it up to capture the moment. Aria, wind in her hair, sun catching her lashes, three tiny heads curled against her lap.
"Don't you dare post that," she murmured without looking up.
"I won't," he promised, lowering the phone and pocketing it with a smile. "It's just for us."
They stayed for an hour more, feeding them, holding them, letting the world move slowly around them. A quiet man walking his dog passed by and offered a smile. An elderly woman stopped to coo softly from a respectful distance.
But mostly, they were alone. Just them. Just theirs.
And when it came time to pack up and go home, none of them—not even the babies—cried.
It had been a good day.
The first of many.