Talia's phone wouldn't stop buzzing.
Articles. Mentions. Fashion brands tagging her. Interviews being requested. Every moment of her day now carried the scent of change, sharp, fast, intoxicating.
And terrifying.
She stood by the nursery door, watching Ethan kneel beside Luna's crib, adjusting her blanket gently as if it were made of glass.
She wasn't used to this kind of quiet devotion.
She wasn't used to him.
When she finally walked into her studio space which was technically Ethan's second guest room turned workshop, she found a note on her sewing table in Ethan's handwriting:
"Good morning, future icon. I asked my friend at Vogue to hold off reaching out today, figured you might want to breathe. -E"
Talia chuckled, pressing the note to her chest.
God. How was he this thoughtful *and* still the most infuriating man she knew?
Just as she sat down to resume stitching a new gown design, the door opened and Ethan stepped in, holding two cups of coffee.
