Sorry for the delay, but one of our close relatives were in the hospital until today so I had had to stay with them there, that's why I couldn't update on time like usual.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The smell of toast and scrambled eggs drifted through the kitchen, mingling with the soft purr of the coffee machine. Eliza was still in Will's shirt from the night before, sleeves rolled up past her elbows, hair loosely knotted at the back of her head.
Lyra sat at the table with the kitten curled in her lap, carefully trying to feed it a tiny corner of toast despite being told multiple times that kittens didn't eat bread.
"Mommy," she said suddenly, glancing up with the kind of matter-of-fact seriousness that always came before her most unexpected questions. "When are you getting me a baby?"
Eliza froze mid-pour, coffee dangerously close to spilling over the rim of her mug. "A… baby?" she repeated.
"Mm-hm. A people-baby. Like the kitten, but bigger. My friend Sophie from school has one—a little baby brother." Lyra's tone was full of importance, like she was revealing privileged information. "She tells me so many stories about him."
Will set down his paper. "Oh?"
Lyra nodded eagerly. "Like yesterday, she said he tried to eat a crayon but then he sneezed so hard it fell out, and she said his face was all blue like the sky, and she had to tickle him so he laughed again."
Eliza nearly choked on her coffee, her cheeks flushing a bright, unmistakable red all the way up to her ears. "That's… quite a story, Lyra."
Lyra, oblivious, popped the piece of toast into her mouth and added, "So… when can I have one? Sophie says baby brothers are very funny."
Will's lips twitched, eyes flicking toward Eliza with far too much amusement. "We'll… see what we can do," he said mildly, his voice warm but teasing, the weight of the unspoken truth hanging between them.
After breakfast, the three of them headed out together. Lyra skipped ahead toward the school gates, chattering about show-and-tell, while Eliza carried her backpack and Will kept pace beside her. Once Lyra was safely inside and out of earshot, Will slid a sidelong glance at Eliza.
"You turned red so fast back there, I thought you'd combust," he drawled as they walked toward the car.
Eliza shot him a glare. "She's six, Will. Six."
"Mm," he said, smugness curling his mouth, "and apparently already taking applications for siblings."
The drive to the Foundation wasn't long, but Will enjoyed every second of Eliza's flustered silence. He had a meeting and presentation with a few important clients that morning—a rare office appearance since he mostly worked from home—but afterward, he planned to pick Lyra up from school himself and head back home.
That evening, when Eliza had to work a little late, the routine was simple: dinner, a quiet chat, and then turning in for the night. Such evenings were rare, but comfortably so—woven into the steady rhythm of the life they'd built together.