The day started with Aria trying—and failing—to organize the baby clothes drawer.
"You'd think three tiny humans wouldn't accumulate this much laundry," she muttered, crouched beside the overflowing dresser. "Where do all these socks come from? And why are there never matching pairs?"
Leon looked up from where he sat with Elias on his lap, patiently bouncing him to the rhythm of a soft hum. "I'm convinced baby socks multiply on their own. It's science."
Aria shot him a glare that couldn't hide her smile. "Oh, please, Mister Genius. Solve the mystery of the disappearing mittens next."
He grinned and rose, crossing the room to help her. "We could always leave them mismatched. Makes them look like miniature rebels."
She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Lila would definitely approve."
Together, they sorted through tiny hats, onesies, and bibs—occasionally pausing to kiss a forehead, adjust a pacifier, or marvel at how quickly the triplets were growing.
It was in the middle of folding a soft lavender onesie that Aria suddenly paused. "You know what we haven't done yet?"
"Tell me."
"A proper family photo."
Leon blinked. "Didn't we take one that time Elias drooled all over your shirt?"
"That was a selfie. And I had a spit stain the size of a palm leaf. We need an actual photo, Leon. Like... framed. Hung on the wall. Something they'll look at one day and laugh about."
He considered that. "Hmm. Coordinated outfits? Scenic background? Forced smiles?"
"Exactly," she said with mock glee. "All of it."
He chuckled. "Alright. I'll reach out to someone discreet. Someone good."
Aria tilted her head. "You already have someone in mind?"
Leon shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "Let's just say I might've quietly booked a studio slot a few weeks ago. Just in case you brought it up."
She blinked. "Wait—you did?"
"I know you. And I know you'd want this. I figured I'd wait until we weren't running on two hours of sleep."
Her heart melted—again.
"You're annoyingly perfect sometimes."
He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. "I try."
Later that day, after the babies had been fed and the sun began to dip low behind their living room windows, Aria opened a small box Leon had left on the kitchen counter.
Inside were three tiny outfits. Elegant, comfortable, coordinated in soft shades of cream, blush, and dusty blue.
Tucked beneath them was a note.
"For our first forever."
Aria pressed a hand to her heart. She didn't cry—not quite. But something caught in her chest, warm and full and endless.
Tomorrow, they'd begin planning. But tonight, they simply watched the world slow around them, wrapped in the stillness of everything they never expected—but now could never live without.