The fever had broken overnight.
Aria blinked awake to soft morning light and the scent of something familiar—her favorite cinnamon tea steeping on the nightstand. The covers were tangled around her legs, but a warm weight pressed against her side.
Lila, tiny and pink-cheeked, lay curled on her chest.
Amara was nestled on the other side of the bed in Leon's arm, her little fists twitching in sleep.
And Elias, ever the serious one, was in Leon's lap, stern little eyes blinking like he was already judging the day.
Aria sighed, content. Her body still ached, and her nose was stuffy, but her fever was gone, and in this cocoon of family warmth, she felt deeply, unspeakably safe.
"Hey," Leon said softly, looking up from Elias. His voice was low and hoarse from too many late nights and whispering lullabies. "You're finally back."
She smiled. "I missed you."
"You were right here."
"No," she whispered, reaching to run her fingers through his messy hair. "I missed you. I hated being out of it. Hated not helping."
Leon leaned forward and kissed her temple. "You help by existing. That's it. That's enough."
For a long moment, they just lay there—no meetings, no feedings, no pressure. Just soft breathing, baby coos, and the weight of love all around.
Then Leon shifted, his gaze tightening ever so slightly. "You scared me, Aria."
She blinked. "I—"
"No, listen. You scared me." He moved Elias gently into the crib nearby and turned to face her fully. "You brushed off the cold. Lied about the fever at first. Lied about the damn injection. I had to argue with our doctor to treat my own wife while she was clearly burning up. Do you have any idea how close you were to getting worse?"
"I just didn't want to worry you—"
"I was worried. Beyond worried."
His voice cracked slightly at the edges, his usual composure slipping. "I thought I was going to lose you for something stupid. A little rain. A moment of nostalgia. Aria, we have three babies now. You don't get to gamble with your health anymore."
Her eyes welled up, tears hot and fast.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Leon leaned forward again, this time slower, and pressed his forehead to hers. "Just… don't ever do that again. Please."
"I promise," she breathed, voice trembling. "No more running into the rain."
He smirked. "And no more lying to doctors."
She laughed, wiping at her eyes. "Okay, okay."
They sank into the pillows, tangled together with their children between them, the rain outside a memory now, replaced with warmth and the quiet murmur of a new day just beginning.
Aria had scared him.
But she was home.
And that was all that mattered.