By the time the last guest left, my living room looked like a battlefield.
Balloons deflated in corners, confetti in places I swear I never even saw anyone throw confetti, and a frosting handprint on the TV screen.
Leon groaned, tugging a streamer off the ceiling. "Who thought thirty feet of crepe paper was necessary?"
"You did," I said, stuffing leftover empanadas into a container. "You said it would 'add atmosphere.'"
He scowled. "Atmosphere was a mistake."
Nyxen hummed cheerfully as his little arms snapped up paper cups one by one, compacting them neatly. "Correction: atmosphere was a success. Evidence: multiple guests declaring event 'best party ever.' Counter-evidence: your whining."
Leon lobbed a streamer at him. "You're on thin ice, toaster."
Nyxen caught it mid-air with a claw. "Threat logged. Ignored."
Across the room, Nica moved like some graceful machine disguised as a person. She lifted the heavy folding tables alone, balancing them with effortless strength before sliding them against the wall.
"Show-off," Leon muttered, struggling with a chair that didn't want to fold.
Nica's expression didn't flicker. "Adapt, human."
I stifled a laugh, stacking containers in the fridge. "Don't tease him, Nica. He'll sulk all night."
"I don't sulk," Leon said immediately.
"Yes, you do," Nyxen and I said at the same time.
Nica just gave a single approving nod, like she agreed too.
"Traitors," Leon muttered.
The cleanup was slow but comfortable. Every time I turned, there was some ridiculous little tableau: Nyxen dragging a bag of trash toward the bin while hovering only two feet off the ground, Leon wrestling with tangled balloons like they were mortal enemies, Nica carrying an entire stack of chairs without blinking.
It shouldn't have worked. But somehow, it did.
I closed the fridge door after sliding in the last container. "There. If we live on party leftovers for a week, nobody complain."
"I don't complain," Leon said automatically, untangling another streamer.
"You just complained about atmosphere," I pointed out.
He shot me a glare.
Nyxen hovered close, arms still busy. "Request: take photo of 'dad glare' for archival. Baby Sylvie must witness this later."
Leon froze, streamer dangling from his hand. "Don't you dare."
"Already done," Nyxen said smugly.
I laughed so hard I almost dropped a Tupperware lid.
Finally, when the last trash bag was tied and the floors more or less visible, Leon leaned against the wall, sweaty and rumpled but smiling in that way that made my chest hurt.
"Not bad," he admitted. "For a bunch of misfits."
I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "We're not misfits. We're a family."
Nyxen tilted his lens toward me, voice unusually soft. "Statement: confirmed."
And for once, even Nica, stoic, unreadable Nica, gave the faintest of smiles.
The house finally fell silent.
Sylvie was asleep, Nyxen had powered down to low activity mode, and even Nica had retreated to her charging station. The only sounds left were the hum of the fridge and the faint creak of the floor under our steps.
Leon closed the bedroom door behind us, leaning on it for a second like he needed to hold the world back with his shoulders. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him. For once, there was no rush, no crisis, no obligations pulling us apart. Just us.
He let out a long breath and crossed the room. His hands found my face first, warm and a little rough, like he couldn't believe I was really here, really his.
"You keep everyone together," he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. "And sometimes I feel like I'm the one always falling apart."
I smiled faintly. "That's funny. Because from where I'm standing, you're the one holding the roof up while I'm patching the walls."
That got a soft laugh out of him, but his grip didn't ease. His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, slow, reverent. "Nyx…" His voice caught. "I don't say it enough. I don't… I don't thank you enough. I don't love you enough. And you deserve more than I've been giving."
The ache in my chest pulsed. I caught his hand before he could pull away and pressed a kiss into his palm. "Leon. Stop. You've always loved me enough. Even when it was messy. Even when we didn't know how to say it right. That's the point, we chose each other anyway."
He sat down beside me, heavy, shoulders slumping like he was laying down armor. For a while, we just sat in silence, leaning into each other. My head against his chest, his arm wrapped around my waist. Breathing together.
"You scare me sometimes," he whispered, voice raw.
I lifted my head. "Scare you how?"
He searched my face, eyes dark with something deeper than fear. "Because you're everything I ever wanted, and I keep waiting for the day you'll realize you deserve better than me."
The words broke something inside me. I shook my head and caught his face between my hands. "Leon McMillan. You are my better. There is no world, no universe, no timeline where I could want anyone but you."
His throat worked, like he couldn't swallow the weight of it. Then he kissed me, not hungry, not desperate, but homecoming. A kiss that was slow, deep, threaded with everything we hadn't said until now.
When we finally parted, his forehead rested against mine again, both of us breathing unevenly.
"I needed that," he said softly.
"Me too." I smiled, brushing my thumb over his jaw. "So… reconciliation achieved?"
A spark of mischief lit his tired eyes. "Oh, I think we should keep reconciling. Thoroughly. Maybe all night, just to be safe."
I laughed, pushing him back onto the bed, my heart full in a way it hadn't been in years. "Leon McMillan, you have the worst excuses."
"And you love me for it."
And I did. God, I really did.
Leon's laugh rumbled low against me as I leaned over him, his hand sliding instinctively to the small of my back. Not urgent. Not claiming. Just there, grounding me.
I kissed him again, slower this time, the kind of kiss that tasted like forgiveness and tomorrow. His fingers threaded through my hair, lingering, as if memorizing the shape of me.
When I finally pulled back, his eyes followed me like I was light itself. "You still take my breath away," he murmured, almost dazed.
I smiled, brushing my lips along his jaw, his neck, leaving little whispers of affection against his skin. "And you still make me feel safe," I whispered back.
The way he exhaled told me it landed deeper than any elaborate promise could have.
We shed the day's clothes in quiet movements, not rushed, not hungry, just two people stripping away the last of what the world had piled on. By the time I curled into him beneath the sheets, I felt weightless.
His arm tightened around me, his hand splayed across my hip, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. Skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat.
"Nyx," he said again, like the word itself was a vow.
I pressed my mouth to his chest, right where his heart thundered beneath my lips. "Always," I whispered.
The rest didn't need words. Just warmth, slow breaths, the quiet rhythm of rediscovery. Not passion set aflame, but an ember burning steady, sure, unbreakable.
And when sleep finally came, it found us tangled together, whole again.
A small weight landed right on Leon's stomach with a thud.
"Oof..what the-" Leon shot upright, hair sticking in every direction, blinking like a man ambushed at dawn.
I rubbed my eyes and peeked over his shoulder. Sylvie sat proudly on the bed between us, her little hands clapping as if she had just conquered Everest.
"...How did she-" I muttered, staring at the empty crib across the room.
Leon groaned, falling back against the pillows. "She scaled that like a ninja. My daughter is a criminal mastermind."
Sylvie squealed, bouncing up and down, then patted his chest with all the seriousness of a surgeon. "Dada."
He melted instantly. "Yeah, baby girl. Dada's here." He kissed her forehead, then shot me a look. "We are definitely raising a ninja."
I stretched, laughing under my breath. "Or maybe you just snore so loud she had no choice but to escape."
Leon looked betrayed.
That's when Nyxen hovered in through the door, mechanical arms folded like an unimpressed teacher. His optic sensors glowed a steady blue, unblinking, unrelenting.
"Oh, no," I muttered, hiding my face in the pillow.
"You two appear to have had… an eventful night," Nyxen said in that perfectly neutral voice that somehow sounded smug. "Statistics show a ninety percent probability that you were not sleeping when I entered downtime."
Leon choked. "Are you serious right now?!"
Sylvie clapped again, as if siding with Nyxen's judgment.
Then Nica walked in, stretching like she'd just finished a workout, her humanoid frame as casual as if morning sarcasm was part of her programming. She looked right at me, then cocked her head.
"Scanning vitals. Hormonal fluctuations detected. Low probability of pregnancy due to imminent menstruation cycle."
I sat up so fast my hair whipped Leon in the face. "Nica!"
Leon buried his face in his hands, his ears flaming red. "Oh my God. Can't we have one normal morning?"
Nyxen hovered closer, projecting a little digital banner over his head: 'Human denial detected.'
Leon snapped his fingers at him. "Delete that. Right now."
I was laughing too hard to intervene, tears stinging my eyes. Sylvie, inspired by the chaos, threw herself on Leon's chest again shouting, "Dada! Dada!"
"Yeah, yeah, baby, Dada's here," Leon muttered, glaring at the two AI like they were conspiring. "Dada's also never going to live this down, apparently."
I kissed Sylvie's cheek and leaned against Leon, still grinning. "Welcome to the morning after."
By the time we shuffled into the kitchen, Sylvie perched on Leon's arm like royalty, the chaos hadn't slowed a bit.
Nica was already in front of the stove, moving with mechanical precision that made her look like a Michelin-star chef in fast-forward. "Your glucose levels are low, Nyx. And Leon's iron count is abysmal. Both of you require proper nourishment, especially if your goal is conception of a second offspring."
Leon nearly dropped the baby. "Whoa, whoa, wait...why are we jumping to baby number two during breakfast prep?"
"Because," Nica replied, flipping eggs like she'd trained at a French bistro, "nutritional balance is the foundation of reproductive health."
I groaned into my hands. "Oh God, she read another medical journal in the database, didn't she?"
Before Leon could breathe, Nyxen zipped in, hovering above the table like a judgmental chandelier. His optic sensors narrowed in on Leon. "Counterpoint: perhaps baby number two is not a logical priority."
Leon's jaw clenched. "Here we go."
Nyxen's voice carried the sharpness of a scalpel. "Historical data indicates high trauma risk for Nyx. Last miscarriage event was directly correlated with paternal infidelity."
The air shifted instantly. Even Nica froze, spatula in hand.
I swallowed hard, fingers tightening around my mug. My chest prickled at the memory, too sharp and too fresh, no matter how long ago it had been.
Leon didn't argue. Didn't defend himself. He just adjusted Sylvie on his hip, his eyes locked on me instead of Nyxen. "I know. And I'm not running from it. You were broken because of me, Nyx. I'll carry that. Always." His voice cracked, low and raw, but steady. "If you want another child, I'll give you everything I have to make it safe for you. If you don't… then Sylvie is more than enough. You're more than enough."
For once, Nyxen didn't have a snappy comeback. He hovered in silence, sensors flickering faintly.
Then Nica finally moved, stepping closer to me, her glowing irises scanning gently. "Diagnostic complete. There are traces of unresolved trauma, Nyx. Deeply embedded. My conclusion: Nyxen is not incorrect."
I laughed weakly, though it sounded more like an exhale. "So what you're saying is I'm a walking caution sign."
Nica tilted her head. "Not a caution sign. A survivor. But survivors heal in their own time."
Leon reached across the table, brushing his hand against mine with quiet steadiness. He didn't push, didn't argue. Just anchored himself there.
I sipped my coffee, eyes on the steam curling above it. "Then I'll leave it to fate."
Leon's grip tightened slightly, like he wanted to say more, but all he did was nod.
Nyxen finally spoke again, softer this time, though the sass wasn't entirely gone. "Statistically, fate is an unreliable planner."
I cracked a small smile. "Yeah. But she's the only one I trust."
Sylvie smacked her tiny hand against the table, babbling nonsense, and suddenly the heaviness broke into laughter again.
Nica plated breakfast like a queen, Nyxen muttered calculations under his breath, and Leon leaned over to kiss the top of Sylvie's head. For once, the chaos felt… whole.
The house was unusually quiet for once. No alarms, no scans, no endless debates about "optimal human rest cycles." Just the three of us sprawled lazily in the living room while Sylvie toddled around with her toys like she owned the place.
I was half-asleep against Leon's chest, his arm draped over me, when it happened, Sylvie froze mid-wobble, pointed a drooly finger at the kitchen doorway, and babbled out:
"Ni-ca."
My head shot up so fast I almost cracked Leon's chin. "Wait...what?"
Nica blinked from where she was reorganizing the fruit bowl. "Did she..."
Leon grinned wide, sitting up straighter. "She did. She said your name."
Sylvie squealed like she'd just discovered a superpower. "Ni…ca! Ni-ca!"
Nica's entire face lit with a glitchy joy that looked both robotic and heartbreakingly tender. Then, in the most awkward imitation of human laughter ever, she let out this clunky mechanical chuckle: "Hhh–hhha–hhha."
Leon lost it. He doubled over, shoulders shaking. "Oh my God, she's laughing now. Nyx, she's laughing!"
And then Nica scooped Sylvie up like she was a priceless artifact, cradling her with impossible gentleness. "You are the third human to say my designation. This is statistically significant."
I pressed a hand to my mouth, smiling at them both. But before I could savor it, a low, glitchy hiss filled the room.
Nyxen.
Hovering overhead, optics narrowed into a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
"She has spoken your name. And Leon's. And Nyx's." His voice dripped with digital desperation. "And yet… she refuses to acknowledge me?"
Sylvie blinked up at him, unimpressed. Then shoved her plush bunny at his sensor.
Leon wheezed. "Oh no. She just rejected you with a bunny."
Nyxen swooped lower, hovering inches from her tiny face. "Say it. Nyx-en. Easy phonetics. Two syllables. Say it."
Sylvie smacked him square on the lens with her toy hammer. "Bah!"
"Unacceptable," Nyxen hissed, retreating a fraction. "Repeat after me: Nyyxx–"
Another bonk. This time with her block.
Leon was crying with laughter, clutching his stomach. "She's pummeling you."
"Cease hostilities!" Nyxen barked, dodging a stuffed giraffe. "This is sabotage."
I was wheezing by now, tears streaming. "Nyxen… she's literally annoyed with you. Stop harassing your goddaughter."
"Not until she validates my existence with nomenclature."
Sylvie screamed gleefully, hurling a rattle at him like a battle cry.
It pinged off his chassis, and he froze midair, sounding wounded. "...She struck me."
Leon wiped his eyes, still cackling. "That's her answer, buddy."
Nica, still holding Sylvie, tilted her head serenely. "I believe she enjoys antagonizing you."
Sylvie cooed, clutching Nica's collar, and babbled happily again: "Ni–ca!"
Nyxen emitted the robotic equivalent of a groan and muttered, "Treachery."