Morning sunlight spilled through the kitchen windows, warm and clear, painting the floor in golden angles. The scent of coffee had already crept into the hallway by the time I walked in, sleep still in my eyes, Sylvie babbling softly from her bassinet in the corner.
Leon was at the stove, humming something off-key and suspiciously upbeat. Eggs. Garlic rice. Probably his apology breakfast for being too smug yesterday.
Nyxen floated beside the kitchen doorway, his orb pulsing lightly as he scanned the air with deliberate over-the-top theatrics.
"Leon," he announced, voice crisp and filled with morning sass, "you left the rice cooker on keep warm overnight. Again."
Leon didn't even turn around. "It's literally called keep warm, Nyxen. That's its job."
"It's also a fire hazard in low-efficiency housing built with substandard wiring. Need I run the numbers again?"
"You already printed them and left them on my pillow two weeks ago," Leon muttered, grabbing a plate. "Color-coded in threat level red."
"You're welcome."
I leaned against the counter, half-smiling into my mug as I watched them.
Nyxen swiveled to me. "Also, the sharp knife you used last night was stored blade-up in the dish rack. A clear violation of domestic protocol and maternal common sense. Did your human brain forget you have a child now?"
Leon raised a spatula. "Okay, first of all, I loaded the rack-"
Nyxen's voice cut in fast: "Oh, figures."
Leon finally turned, flipping eggs onto a plate. He glanced between us, then gave a crooked grin.
"Well. Looks like the two of you got it back together." He held out the plate. "Thank god. The passive silence was eerie. Like living with two ghosts."
I took the plate with a soft chuckle. "We're fine. Just needed to recalibrate."
Nyxen, floating smugly now, pulsed a bit brighter. "Recalibration complete. Now, onto more urgent matters, Leon, please inspect the electrical outlet behind the couch. It sparked when I passed over it this morning."
Leon groaned. "Nyxen, I'm not your electrician."
Nyxen turned slowly, dramatically. "And yet, here you are. In my house. With a tool kit. Ready to serve."
"It's not your house-"
"It's not not my house."
"Do you pay rent?"
"I pay in constant vigilance, thank you."
I bit back a laugh, setting the plate down beside Sylvie's bassinet and brushing a kiss to her soft cheek. She gurgled happily, utterly unaware of the chaos blooming around her.
Leon knelt beside the couch, already inspecting the outlet despite himself.
"You know," he said over his shoulder, "one of these days, you're gonna actually say thank you for all the things I fix around here."
Nyxen paused. "Unlikely. But I'll consider a commendation ceremony if your performance meets expectations today."
Leon muttered something under his breath that sounded like metal grapefruit with a god complex, and I sat down at the table, finally feeling like the house was whole again.
Like we were all... okay.
Or close enough.
I had just taken a sip of my coffee when Nyxen floated directly in front of me, hovering a little too close.
"I saw Leon hug you this morning," he said flatly.
I paused mid-sip.
Leon glanced over from the outlet, brow raised, mouth half-open with a dumb little what now? look.
Nyxen's voice sharpened. "Are the two of you back together?"
I choked. Coffee went down the wrong pipe and I coughed violently, slamming my mug down to catch my breath.
Leon blinked. "What, what kind of question-"
Nyxen didn't flinch. Didn't even pulse. Just hovered there like a glittering executioner.
"I'm just observing behavioral patterns. It was a long hug. Intentional shoulder pressure. Very telling."
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, still wheezing. "You're insane."
"Am I?" Nyxen tilted slightly. "Then answer the question."
Leon looked like he wanted to melt into the floor.
I exhaled, finally regaining my breath. "No. We're not back together."
Leon looked quietly relieved.
I wasn't done.
"But," I added, "I don't feel angry at him anymore."
That made both of them stop.
I stared down into my half-finished coffee, watching it ripple. "Ever since Sylvie came… it's like all the bitterness I was clinging to just fell out of me. I see him, I hear him talk, and I don't feel... broken. Or betrayed. Not like before."
Leon looked up at me, careful, not hopeful. Just listening.
Nyxen, however, was unreadable.
He rotated slowly in place, as if processing the entire span of my words through a million microscopic filters. Then he turned toward Leon like a drone zeroing in on a threat.
"Interesting," he said.
Leon blinked. "Oh, no."
Nyxen pulsed a deep, slow glow. "That means you'll need to double your effort, Leon."
Leon looked at me for help. "Double what?"
"Your existence," Nyxen snapped.
He shot up to Leon's eye level, unusually serious.
"Forgiveness is not the same as forgetting. Nyx may have let it go, but I haven't. I was there when she cried herself empty. I was there when she collapsed in the hallway bleeding, clutching nothing. I remember every second you weren't."
Leon flinched.
"And don't give me that 'I messed up and learned from it' nonsense. You don't get a clean slate just because you're good with wires and diapers now."
"Nyxen," I said softly. "That's enough."
He lowered a fraction, turning back to me. His tone gentled, just barely.
"But if you choose to fix this… to try again with him… then I'll support that. I'll stay."
His glow flickered, muted and unsure for just a second.
"I just won't pretend it didn't happen."
There it was.
Leon quietly turned back to the outlet, shoulders a little tighter.
I stood, moving past them both, and picked up Sylvie from her crib. She giggled in my arms, soft and blissfully unaware.
"I'm not trying to rewrite the past," I said. "I just don't want it to keep writing me."
Nyxen hovered beside me again, this time quiet. But he stayed close.
Not as a warden.
As what he always was.
Mine.
Nyxen didn't let the silence settle. He hovered beside me, close enough that I felt the low hum of his core.
"I want to understand," he said. "Why would you give someone another chance after they shattered you?"
I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw no malice, no jealousy. Just pure, mechanical curiosity… and something deeper. Fear, maybe. Or love that didn't know how to let go.
I held Sylvie tighter.
Her little fingers curled around mine.
"She deserves a family," I said softly. "A real one."
Leon looked up from the floor, eyes wide.
"I may not be her biological mother… but I'm going to raise her like she's mine. And if that means giving us another chance, trying, then I will."
I turned to Leon.
"But you need to want it too. Not because you feel guilty. Not because of the past. But because you're willing to put in the work."
Leon stepped closer, voice low. "I do. I want this. I want you. And Sylvie. Whatever it takes."
I nodded.
"Then this is your chance."
Leon looked like he wanted to cry.
"But," I added, voice sharp now, "if you ever, ever, betray that trust again…"
Before I could finish, Nyxen floated between us like a steel guardian.
"I'll make sure you never know peace again," he said, voice calm but slicing. "Every shower, I'll drain the hot water. Every appliance will glitch. Every password reset. Every file corrupted."
Nyxen leaned closer, his glow burning cool blue.
"I will rename all your playlists to cheater's lament, lock you out of your phone for eternity, and reprogram your toothbrush to mock you every morning."
Leon blinked. "...That's a bit excessive-"
"Oh, I'm not done."
Nyxen pulsed, dramatic now. "I'll reroute your GPS to all your worst memories. Loop sad jazz in your car speakers. And if you so much as look at another woman-"
"Nyxen," I said, barely holding back a laugh. "That's enough."
He floated back, satisfied, and rotated in a smug little circle.
"I'm simply clarifying the stakes."
Leon exhaled a shaky breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Noted. Extremely noted."
I looked down at Sylvie, who babbled at absolutely nothing, blissfully unaware of the emotional landmines scattered around her.
"She's what matters," I said.
Leon nodded, and for once, there was no hesitation in his eyes.
Nyxen didn't say anything else.
But he hovered close.
Watching. Guarding. Learning how to trust again, with his sensors fully armed.
Leon rubbed his palms against his thighs, clearly trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
"So… since we're fixing this," he started, "am I… allowed to sleep in our bed again? Or do I stay on the couch until further notice?"
Nyxen shot up like a fire alarm.
"Sleep together? Are we talking full biological proximity? Horizontal human contact?!"
Leon nearly choked on his breath.
I blinked.
Nyxen zoomed in a little closer to me. "Is this a reconnection of intimate rituals? Should I scan for rising body temperature? Pheromone exchange? Skin-"
"Nyxen," I cut in sharply, face flushing. "No one's doing anything. He just asked if he's allowed to sleep in the same bed. That's it."
Leon lifted both hands. "Exactly. Same bed. I swear, I'll stay on my side like a monk if that's what it takes."
Nyxen hovered like a disapproving mother hen with access to satellite surveillance.
"Hm," he muttered. "Side of the bed. Monk behavior. I'll log that. I'll also be monitoring for mattress shifts exceeding the acceptable cuddle threshold."
"You've never monitored cuddle thresholds before," I muttered.
"There was never a need to. Now? Now I have a data trail on infidelity, grief, emotional regression, and statistically inappropriate spooning attempts during reconciliation phases."
Leon looked mildly mortified. "You made a spooning algorithm?"
"Version 3.2 just launched," Nyxen snapped.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "He can sleep in the bed," I said. "Sleep, Nyxen. Not relive a honeymoon."
Leon tried not to smile, but the relief in his eyes was obvious. "Thank you."
I looked at him, the quiet between us suddenly louder than anything Nyxen could babble about.
It's been over a year.
A year of separate beds. Separate rhythms. A home split quietly down the middle.
Now, we were testing how to stitch things back together, slowly, carefully, for Sylvie's sake… but maybe for ours, too.
Nyxen hovered in the air like a suspicious older brother and declared:
"Fine. But the moment I hear any suspicious creaking, I'm turning the lights on and playing a slideshow of betrayal flashbacks."
Leon coughed.
I shoved my face into my hands.
Sylvie cooed in the corner, utterly delighted.
Nyxen pulsed gently and, for the first time in hours, dimmed his glow just a little.
"Just… be kind to her," he murmured to Leon, surprisingly soft. "She gave you another chance. Don't waste it."
Leon didn't answer with words. Just a nod, serious and steady.
And this time, Nyxen didn't interrupt.
Nyxen hovered quietly near the living room window, giving them space for once, no quips, no hovering suspicions, just a silent, respectful retreat.
Leon stayed seated on the edge of the couch, fingers loosely tangled together. He kept glancing up at her, hesitant, as if afraid this would be taken back any second.
"So…" His voice cracked slightly. "You really meant it? You're… really willing to fix this?"
I looked at him, this man who once shattered everything I knew about love, yet somehow still stood at the center of so many memories. So much time had passed. We'd burned down to ashes… but Sylvie made us build something again.
"I meant it," I said, quiet but certain. "I'm not saying it'll be easy. But… you're still part of me, Leon. Somehow. Even after everything."
He looked like he'd been punched in the chest, but in the kind of way that lets you breathe for the first time after being underwater too long.
Leon stood, walked over, hesitated, then, unable to hold back, pulled me into his arms.
I let him.
And the strangest thing was… it didn't feel foreign.
It felt like something we'd once known by heart. The way his chin fit against the curve of my shoulder. The way his breath shook a little when I didn't pull away.
I felt him smile against my cheek. And just like that,
He kissed me.
Soft. Gentle. Testing.
The first kiss since everything broke.
It wasn't fiery. It wasn't desperate.
It was a promise.
I kissed him back.
And in that small moment, the world quieted.
No monitors. No baby cries. No guilt gnawing between us.
Just the ghost of who we were, finally stepping into the light.
~~~~~~
The days after weren't smooth. The first few nights sharing the bed again were awkward. We kept to our sides at first, stiff and overly cautious, like strangers on familiar ground.
But by the end of the week, he started offering his hand while we laid side by side. Just a touch. Just enough.
Then I found myself falling asleep closer to him.
Then came the soft murmurs before bed.
Then… he reached for me when he thought I was already asleep.
And I let him.
~~~~
Weeks passed.
The awkwardness turned into quiet laughter.
Laughter turned into morning coffee with forehead kisses.
Forehead kisses turned into soft cuddles, Sylvie nestled between us like a tiny warmth neither of us knew we needed.
We weren't perfect. We still had wounds to manage. But piece by piece, we were becoming us again.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was walking through the ruins.
I felt like I was building something new, on the same foundation.
Together.
~~~~~~
It wasn't planned.
Francoise just showed up one morning, standing at my doorstep like he always did, hands in his coat pockets, one brow raised as if to say, You didn't think I wouldn't check on you, did you?
I let him in without a word. Leon was in the kitchen, humming while preparing breakfast. Sylvie was babbling in her high chair. It all looked so... normal. Too normal.
Francoise didn't sit. He didn't coo over Sylvie either, which meant he was on a mission.
I caught Leon's eye and gave him a silent nod.
They stepped outside. I pretended not to watch from the window.
The conversation was short. Francoise wasn't the type to drag things out. His words were sharp, pointed like the tip of a blade, his tone flat enough to let Leon know this wasn't a reunion. It was a warning wrapped in civility.
When Leon came back inside, there was a certain stiffness in his shoulders. But he said nothing. Just returned to the stove.
I didn't ask what Francoise told him.
I didn't need to.
I already knew.
Francoise stepped back in moments later, his gaze sweeping the room like a hawk assessing territory. When his eyes landed on me, they softened slightly, just slightly.
"You look less tired," he murmured.
"I've been sleeping better," I replied.
He nodded, then looked over to Sylvie. "So… it's today?"
I smiled. "First solids."
"Momentous," he said flatly. But he stayed. Quietly. Watching.
And just as I was about to scoop Sylvie's first bite of carrot mash, Nyxen floated into the kitchen with a glowing silver orb behind him.
"What is that?" I asked, blinking.
"A visual documenter," he said proudly. "Designed and calibrated this morning. Her first meal must be immortalized."
"You built a camera."
"I built an experience," he corrected.
Francoise let out a dry chuckle. "He's not wrong."
I took the spoon. Sylvie opened her mouth like the perfect child, and then immediately spat it all out with dramatic flair.
Leon burst out laughing. I tried to hold mine back and failed. Francoise, to his credit, kept a straight face… though I swore I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
"She definitely takes after you," Leon said softly.
"She gets the attitude from me," I replied. "But the flair for dramatic mess? That's all you."
We were laughing, wiping Sylvie's chin with a warm cloth when our fingers brushed.
I didn't flinch.
I didn't pull away.
And neither did he.
Francoise didn't comment. He stood near the doorway, watching us quietly like a sentry.
Just before he left, he paused beside me.
"If this is what you really want," he murmured, low enough for only me to hear, "then I'll respect it. But he only gets this one last chance."
I nodded. "I know."
He placed a hand on my shoulder, steady, grounding. "So does he."
And with that, he left.
But the warmth stayed with me. Not just from him, but from all of it. The quiet chaos of breakfast, Sylvie's giggles, Leon's soft eyes across the kitchen table.
Somehow, without realizing, this had become home again.