Olivia nestled closer on Kafka's lap, her plump, soft body molding against his, the warmth of his strong frame a comforting anchor. A quiet joy bloomed in her chest, the happiest she'd felt in years.
After the relentless stress of the city, the endless meetings and sterile apartments, she was finally home, not just in the physical sense but in the embrace of her son a closeness she'd feared would take months, if not years, to achieve.
Here she was, embarrassingly perched on his lap, his arms cradling her like a child, and though she was supposed to be the one cuddling him, the way he held her, strong and steady, felt like a gift she'd never known she needed.
She didn't mind the reversal; she reveled in it, savoring a treatment so tender and new it made her heart ache with gratitude.
