The office was quiet except for the faint clinking of cutlery and the soft hum of the city outside the glass walls.
For the first time in years, Alexander Carter's desk — once reserved for files and finance — had become a family table.
Evelyn sat opposite him, graceful and unhurried, helping Lily and Emma cut their food while Alexander ate in measured silence. Between them, the baby Grace rested contentedly in his arm, her chubby fingers tugging at his silk tie with determined fascination.
He tried to continue reading a report between bites, but Grace had other plans.
Her small hand caught his tie again and pulled — hard.
Alexander blinked, startled, then sighed and smiled despite himself. "Little troublemaker," he murmured, adjusting his tie.
Evelyn glanced up, amused. "She likes expensive things already. Must get that from you."
He gave her a look that might have been teasing — or might have been disbelief that she could still make him smile.
But before either could say more, Grace began to squirm. Her lips puckered; her face turned pink. Within seconds, the first wail escaped.
"Uh oh," Emma whispered, looking worried. "She's hungry again."
Alexander rocked her gently, bouncing her in his arm. "Shh… it's all right, sweetheart."
But Grace wasn't listening. Her cries grew louder, echoing against the polished floor.
Without hesitation, Lily and Emma climbed down from the couch and rushed to their baby sister's side.
"Don't cry, Gracie!" Lily said softly. "We're here!"
Emma started telling a nonsense story about a flying bear who stole cookies, her little hands flapping to make wings.
Even Alexander's fork had stilled. The entire scene — his children, his wife, this sudden warmth — felt so foreign he didn't dare breathe.
Evelyn watched the moment quietly, her eyes softening. Then she stood, walking around the table toward them.
"Here," she said gently, reaching for the baby. "Let me take her. You finish eating, Alexander."
He hesitated, still rocking the child. "I'll call someone to bring milk powder."
She shook her head. "No need. I forgot to bring it anyway."
Before he could protest, she added softly, "I'll feed her myself."
The words froze him for half a second — not out of scandal, but something deeper.
When she tried to unfasten the back of her dress, she struggled with the clasp. Grace's cries grew louder. Evelyn sighed in frustration.
"Alexander," she said quietly, looking at him over her shoulder, "could you… help me?"
For a moment, he didn't move. Then, without a word, he stood and stepped behind her.
The sound of the clasp coming undone was faint, but it seemed to echo. He loosened the back carefully, his fingers brushing the silk, the warmth of her skin startling him with memory.
Evelyn adjusted her dress and settled into the corner sofa, cradling Grace close. The baby latched almost immediately, her cries melting into soft sighs.
Relief swept through the room like sunlight.
Lily whispered, "She's happy now!" and Emma giggled.
Alexander, still standing nearby, couldn't look away.
He'd seen Evelyn in countless settings — poised at galas, sharp in meetings, radiant in photographs — but never like this. Never so real.
The tenderness in her face, the calm strength in her hands… it undid something inside him.
She looked up at him, smiling faintly. "You should eat," she said softly. "We're fine."
He swallowed hard, his voice low. "I'll… sit here."
He did — not at his desk, not apart, but near her, where he could watch without words.
---
Just then, a knock echoed — or rather, the lack of one.
A young secretary, arms full of files, walked in without looking up. "Sir, about the—"
He froze mid-sentence.
The scene before him — the elegant Mrs. Carter nursing her child, the two little girls beside her, the warmth that filled the room — was so intimate, so unexpected, that he nearly dropped the documents.
Alexander's expression turned to ice. His jaw tightened.
"Get. Out."
The man blinked, startled. "Sir, I—"
"Out!" Alexander's tone snapped like a whip.
The poor secretary nearly tripped over himself backing toward the door, face red, muttering apologies before vanishing into the hallway.
Evelyn looked up, startled, then smiled softly. "He didn't mean any harm, Alexander."
"He didn't knock," Alexander said shortly. "No one walks into my office uninvited."
Evelyn chuckled lightly, the sound soothing. "You're still as dramatic as ever."
"Protective," he corrected, though the faintest curve touched his lips.
She tilted her head. "Protective, then."
The moment hung between them — quiet, simple, domestic — and yet charged with something unspoken.
Lily and Emma began whispering again, tugging on Alexander's sleeve to show him a doodle Emma had made on her napkin. Grace was quiet now, dozing peacefully against Evelyn.
And as Alexander watched the four of them, he realized something had changed — not just in her, but in himself.
He couldn't remember the last time his office had felt like a home.
---
Lunch continued in soft chatter — laughter about the girls' stories, teasing remarks, quiet exchanges.
For the first time in years, Alexander didn't think about meetings, or deadlines, or the whispers of divorce.
He thought only about the woman sitting across from him — the one who'd once broken his heart, and who was now, somehow, putting it back together without even trying.