The Laurent estate hadn't been this quiet in years — not somber, but reverent.
Servants moved with care, cleaning places that were already spotless. Gardeners pruned every rose bush, even those far from the main house. Chefs experimented in the kitchen, nervous and excited, preparing dishes no one might eat.
Something had changed.
Hope had returned — and this time, it had a name.
Aira.
In the west wing, Seraphina stood in a room untouched for nearly two decades. The nursery had been converted over the years — first into a sunroom, then a quiet reading space. Now, it was being changed again. Not back into a child's room, but something neutral, calming.
"Keep the lilac curtains," she murmured to the interior designer. "And add the piano to the corner — not the grand one, the upright. She'll want privacy if she plays."
Cassian leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed. "Should we ask what color she likes?"
"She might not answer," Ronan said behind him. "We should wait."
"No." Seraphina turned to face them, her voice firm. "We'll prepare everything, but she decides what to keep. Not the other way around."
Lucien peeked in from behind the others, expression softer than usual. "I'll write her something," he said. "Just something small. A song… not about her, just… for her."
Elias, standing further back, didn't speak. But his gaze swept the room with a quiet, calculating intensity. He wasn't just thinking about curtains or songs. He was planning. Protecting. Preparing for a life he wasn't sure he deserved to share with her yet.
And Evander… wasn't there.
But none of them commented. They knew where he was.
He hadn't left the music room since sunrise.
Across town, Aira leaned over the balcony of her grandmother's old apartment, watching the city breathe beneath her.
For years, this view had been her escape. The cold wind, the glass towers, the ever-moving traffic — a comfort in their indifference. But now, the world felt strangely personal.
Five names lived in her head now. Five voices she had never heard, yet couldn't stop imagining.
She wasn't ready to meet them.
But she wasn't ready to let them go either.
Inside, her tea cooled on the counter. The house was too quiet without her grandmother. Without her stories. Without the soft humming at dawn and the smell of ginger tea in winter.
She hated how still everything had become.
So she moved.
She pulled out the file again, not because she needed more information — but because it felt like the only thread tying her to something real.
She stared at a photo of her mother, trying to see herself in the woman's features.
And then she flipped to Evander again.
She didn't know why she paused on his picture.
He looked like someone who was never allowed to fall apart, and yet she saw the tiniest cracks — a mirror to her own.
A part of her wondered… would he understand her silence better than the others?
Her eyes drifted to her phone.
No missed calls. No new messages. The Laurents were giving her space.
Too much space.
She wasn't sure if she liked that or hated it.
She turned back to the balcony, breathing in the wind. The streets below looked the same.
But her world was changing.
And whether she liked it or not… someone out there was waiting.
Not just one person.
A family.