These two chapters are a bonus to celebrate the new collection received , and I will stand by my word and release two extra chapters for each new collection received 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳
Bonus Chapter(1/2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The soft chime of a clock echoed through the quiet apartment as golden Sunday light streamed through the wide windows. Outside, the London streets hummed faintly with distant life, but inside, the world had slowed to a kind of sacred stillness.
Aria sat by the window in a long cream cardigan, one hand resting on her belly as she wrote slowly in the leather-bound journal Leon had gifted her weeks ago. The pages were already filling—letters to the babies, scattered thoughts, hopes, little fragments of dreams she hadn't known she still carried.
Today's entry was simple.
To my little stars,This morning you made me crave orange marmalade and toast, which is strange because I've never liked marmalade before. I think one of you has very strong opinions already. I wonder who you'll take after? I hope you know you are already loved more fiercely than anything I've ever known. You're growing in a world that feels different because you're in it now.I hear your father humming in the next room, sanding down something made of oak. He thinks I don't know, but I saw the tiny initials he carved into each panel. L.A.C. for Leon and Aria Castellan. And three smaller sets tucked beneath—your names, maybe. Or just placeholders for now. He's building something beautiful for you. He builds everything with his hands and his heart.We're not perfect. But we're trying. And we can't wait to meet you.With all the love I have,– Mum
She closed the journal slowly, tracing the gold-edged corners before setting it aside. Then she just sat for a while, watching the light filter through the branches of the tree outside.
From the nursery came the sound of gentle scraping and the occasional muttered curse—Leon's version of concentration.
She padded softly to the door and leaned against the frame.
He was on the floor, barefoot and in a worn navy T-shirt, one knee braced as he smoothed the edge of a small dresser. Sawdust dusted his arms. The scent of freshly cut wood filled the air.
"You've got something on your cheek," she said.
Leon looked up. "What, charm?"
"Sawdust."
"Ah. Practically the same thing."
She laughed and came to kneel beside him, brushing a fleck from his jaw.
"I saw the initials," she murmured.
He didn't look embarrassed. "I figured even if we change the names later, I'll redo the drawers. I just… wanted them to feel real. Like they already belong here."
"They do."
She rested her head on his shoulder as he ran his hand gently over the finished wood.
"I used to think I'd raise kids in a house with stone walls and polished floors. Some cold, cavernous mansion," Leon said after a long moment. "But I'm glad it's here. Small, sunlit, and full of you."
Aria tilted her face to look at him. "I'm glad it's you. And them."
They stayed like that for a while—her hand on his, his fingers brushing over wood warmed by afternoon light. No rush. No appointments. No world beyond their own.
Later that evening, she tucked the journal into the nightstand drawer, and he set the finished dresser in place beneath the window.
The nursery was coming together piece by piece, carved by hands that had once known only power and now knew gentleness.
And in every drawer, in every letter, in every quiet moment between them, love deepened—steady and certain as the lives they waited to meet.