The cafe was tucked into a quiet corner near Hyde Park, its windows fogged slightly from the drizzle outside. Aria sat across from her editor, Lucille, nursing a decaf flat white and trying not to shift too much in her seat.
It was her first proper outing since the appointment.
The first time she'd felt the world moving around her again, and not just within her.
Lucille hadn't noticed anything—yet. She chatted easily, mostly about the publisher's spring lineup and a high-maintenance debut author who'd just submitted a 700-page manuscript written entirely in second person.
Aria nodded along, smiled when appropriate, even made a few dry jokes. But her hand never strayed far from her belly, which—at this stage—still looked the same but no longer felt like it.
"You seem… lighter than usual," Lucille finally said, tilting her head. "Good lighter. But something's different."
Aria froze.
She could lie. She could deflect.
But something in her didn't want to anymore.
"I'm pregnant," she said softly.
Lucille's expression changed so quickly it was almost comical—first confusion, then realization, then delighted shock.
"You're what?"
"Pregnant," Aria repeated, her voice steadier now. "About nine weeks."
"Oh my god, Aria." Lucille practically lunged across the table to hug her. "That's incredible. Are you—are you okay? Are you happy?"
"I'm… terrified," she admitted, then smiled faintly. "But yeah. I'm happy."
Lucille's face softened. "Does this mean you're taking time off?"
"Eventually," Aria said. "But not yet. I'll still finish the final edits on the novel. Maybe even start something new. Just… at a different pace."
Lucille leaned back, still beaming. "You let me know what you need. Space, time, snacks—I'll smuggle you pastries from editorial meetings."
Aria laughed. "You always hated those meetings."
"I do. But now I have a noble cause."
When they finally stepped outside, the rain had faded to a mist. Aria pulled up her hood, but the damp air felt good against her face—alive and real and grounding.
Still, as she slid into the waiting car where Leon sat with his laptop open, his eyes found her immediately, sharp and searching.
"You okay?" he asked, before she'd even shut the door.
"I'm fine." She smiled. "Lucille knows. She cried more than I did."
Leon reached over and gently adjusted her seatbelt. "That was your last meeting this week, right?"
Aria sighed. "It was a coffee, not a triathlon."
He didn't argue. Just took her hand and held it the entire ride back.
By the end of that week, they'd visited twelve different properties.
Twelve.
Aria had vetoed most of them.
Leon had vetoed a few too—mostly the ones with soulless layouts or minimal sunlight. It turned out they both had very specific ideas about what "a home" should feel like.
It wasn't until the thirteenth place—a corner flat with floor-to-ceiling windows, warm wood floors, and a quiet sun-drenched reading nook—that they both stepped inside and didn't immediately start listing flaws.
Aria stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed. "I like the light."
Leon nodded. "I like the space."
They looked at each other.
"This could be it," she said quietly.
His smile said everything.
They moved in within two weeks.
Boxes everywhere. Arguments over drawer space. Long nights sitting on the bare floor with takeout cartons and music playing low in the background.
Leon tried to convince her the baby's room should be a soft sage green. Aria pushed for ivory walls and bold gold trim.
"You're nesting through design software," she said, frowning at his 3D layout tool.
"And you're nesting through indecision," he countered.
She threw a pillow at him.
They made up five minutes later, lying side by side on the floor with her head on his shoulder and his hand on her belly.
"Don't overdo it," he said quietly. "With work. With meetings. With… everything."
"I'm not used to sitting still."
"I know," he said, brushing her hair back. "But I need you to try. Just this once. For you. For us."
She closed her eyes. "I'll try."
It wasn't a promise. But it was the truth.
That night, curled against him on their new bed, Aria whispered the words into the dark:
"I'm scared I won't be good at this."
Leon didn't respond right away. Then—
"You will," he said simply. "But it's okay to be scared. So long as you let me be scared with you."
She turned into him, tears soaking into his shirt.
This was new. All of it.
But with him beside her, it didn't feel impossible.
It felt… like the beginning of something better than she'd ever allowed herself to imagine.