These four chapters are a bonus to celebrate the two new collections received , and I will stand by my word and release two extra chapters for each new collection received 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳
Bonus Chapter(1/4)
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The rain had begun early, a soft patter against the glass that turned the whole world a shade grayer, quieter. Aria stood by the window in her robe, holding Elias to her chest while the girls napped in their crib. Her eyes sparkled as she watched the mist cling to the garden.
"I used to love days like this," she murmured to Elias. "When everything smelled like wet earth and possibility."
Leon glanced up from his laptop on the dining table. "You're not thinking of going outside, are you?"
She smiled innocently. "Just the Balcony. For a moment."
But an hour later, he found her on the Balcony—no umbrella, her hair damp and skin kissed pink by the cold. She was crouched beside the rose bushes there with Elias in his carrier, whispering something to the baby as raindrops traced lines down her cheeks.
"Aria." His voice was low but firm.
She turned sheepishly, lifting her hand in surrender. "I got carried away."
By the next evening, the price of that moment had settled in: a hot forehead, glassy eyes, and a miserable sniffle that had her bundled up in bed with all the grumpiness of someone who deeply resented being told I told you so.
Leon had called their family doctor over the moment she began shivering.
"I'm fine," she insisted, voice hoarse, clutching the blanket like armor as the doctor prepared a mild fever-reducing shot.
Leon stood at the foot of the bed with arms crossed, watching with growing amusement as Aria sat up straight in sudden panic.
"Oh! I just remembered—I'm allergic," she blurted.
The doctor hesitated, syringe paused mid-air.
Leon didn't miss a beat. "No, she's not."
Aria's eyes widened as she shot him a glare. "Leon!"
"She faints at the sight of needles," he told the doctor, deadpan. "That's what this is about."
"I don't faint," she muttered, clearly offended. "I just… dislike them intensely."
The doctor tried not to laugh.
Leon crouched beside the bed and took her hand. "Hey. You can do this. You carried three babies and birthed them like a damn warrior. One little shot won't win."
She grumbled under her breath but squeezed his hand and braved the injection—with only minimal swearing and a dramatic flinch.
For two days, Aria lay in bed while Leon ran the household like a commander in a high-stakes mission.
He had one earbud in for calls while burping Amara on one shoulder, taking notes with his free hand. Lila fussed in her bouncer, and Elias clung to his leg like a sleepy koala, yet somehow Leon didn't falter once.
Bottles were warmed with military precision.
Emails were answered between diaper changes.
He even remembered to bring Aria chamomile tea with honey—just the way she liked it—and checked her temperature every few hours, recording it in a notes app with silent determination.
When she tried to apologize, he shushed her with a kiss on the forehead and said, "You take care of us every day. Let me return the favor."
As she drifted off one afternoon, watching Leon pace the nursery with two babies and a Bluetooth earpiece, she smiled to herself.
Even sick, even guilty, she had never felt more loved.