Adrien's POV
The second I stepped into the Bentley, I made the very dumb mistake of aiming for the seat behind the driver.
"Uh-uh," Ava snapped, already climbing in after me. "Middle seat. You're sitting with me, mister."
I groaned. "Mom—"
"Don't 'Mom' me." She patted the seat like she was inviting a golden retriever. "You're not sitting far away like I didn't just get my baby back after a year of hell."
I scooted to the middle seat.
She followed immediately, grabbing my hand like I was going to jump out of a moving vehicle.
Alex entered last, calm and composed as ever, and gave me a look that said don't fight it, son. You know better.
The door shut with a luxurious hiss, and the city faded behind tinted glass.
"I told the driver to take the scenic route," Ava announced. "I want at least twenty minutes of uninterrupted Adrien time. And you, mister grumpy-pants, will tell me every single thing that happened today, from your breakfast to who sat next to you in class to how the hallway smells—"
"Like middle schoolers and chalk," I muttered.
"Ugh, still awful," she said with a dramatic shudder. "Anyway, were the teachers nice? Did you feel safe? Do you want to change schools? I know the principal is nice, but I don't trust the security system there. Maybe I should build you a private school. With biometric gates. Thoughts?"
"Mama."
"Yes, my love?"
"I just want to go home."
She stared at me.
Then sighed. Then leaned in and kissed the top of my head again like she was trying to memorize the shape of my skull.
"Fine. But only because you're cute."
Next to us, Dad finally spoke.
"You know, I could sit next to you for once. You've clung to him since we left the hospital."
Ava gasped. "Alex Carter. Are you jealous of our child?!"
"I'm just saying I exist," he replied, smirking. "You haven't let go of Adrien's hand in over thirty minutes."
"And I'm not going to," she said, proudly lifting our joined hands like a trophy. "I earned this hand-holding. I suffered for this hand-holding. This is my hand now."
Dad snorted. "Adrien, I told you she was like this."
"I didn't think you were serious," I muttered.
"I warned you," Alex said solemnly.
And in the space between teasing and banter, there was something else: peace.
Real, unshakable peace.
My mom was clinging to my arm like I was four again, my dad was watching us like he never wanted to blink, and for the first time in a long, long time—I felt warm. Safe. Like nothing could touch us again.
Ava rested her head on my shoulder and sighed.
"I missed this," she whispered.
"Me too," Dad said.
"…can we get ice cream on the way home?" I asked.
Ava perked up like I'd just proposed to her. "YES. You want chocolate? Mint? Tiramisu? No—don't answer. We'll get all of them."
Alex shook his head fondly. "She's going to fill the fridge again."
"As I should."