It was a quiet Monday morning, but the Wolfe penthouse was anything but still.
Elio was snuggled in a pale blue blanket in Elena's arms, his tiny mouth opening and closing in soft sighs. Liora, swaddled in blush pink, lay curled against Zayden's chest, a serene expression on her baby face like she already owned the world.
Zayden looked like a man undone. Shirtless, hair tousled, a milk-stained burp cloth draped over his shoulder—and the proudest smile on his face.
"They smell like heaven," he whispered, planting the lightest kiss on Liora's forehead.
Elena leaned her head back against the sofa. "They are heaven."
Zayden turned to her. "And you... you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Chubby cheeks and all."
Elena raised a brow. "Chubby?"
He grinned mischievously. "You asked if you were a little chubby yesterday. I'm saying yes—but like a delicious, edible cinnamon roll."
She burst out laughing. "Zay!"
"What? You are," he said, gently taking Elio from her and laying him in the crib. "You're cute. Adorable. Beautiful. And now, you're the mother of our twins. I don't think my heart can stretch anymore."
---
Later that afternoon, they decided to take the twins out for the second time.
Zayden packed everything—from diapers to four backup pacifiers to noise-cancelling baby headphones. He hovered as Elena strapped them in the twin stroller, checking the buckles twice himself.
When she turned to grab her bag, she caught him giving Elio a pep talk.
"If anyone looks at you weird, blink twice and I'll handle it."
Elena raised a brow. "Zayden."
He looked up, unbothered. "I'm just letting him know his daddy's always on guard."
---
That night, after feeding and changing and swaying and singing lullabies, Zayden and Elena finally collapsed into bed.
He pulled her close, burying his face in her neck.
"You think we'll be good at this?" she whispered.
Zayden pulled back, cupping her face. "We already are. Look at them, sleeping like angels. That's you. That's us."
Elena pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "You're really not tired?"
"Only a little," he whispered. "But I'd take a hundred sleepless nights just to have you and them."
He leaned in, kissing her slowly. No rush. No heat. Just deep, soft love.
Tonight wasn't about wild passion—it was about connection, reassurance, and soul-deep intimacy.
He traced every inch of her with his lips, whispering affirmations between each kiss. "Beautiful." Kiss. "Strong." Kiss. "My Elena." Kiss.
She smiled against his mouth, breath hitching.
Maybe they were sleep-deprived. Maybe they were figuring it all out.
But in that bed, wrapped in each other's arms with two tiny miracles sleeping peacefully down the hall—Elena and Zayden Wolfe had never felt more complete.
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