Almost eight weeks had passed since the day Aria collapsed on the couch and sent Leon's entire world into chaos. The scare had left a lasting impact—not only in how Leon paced himself around work, but in how obsessively he hovered over her with every step she took, every sigh she released, every frown that so much as hinted at discomfort.
And now, as the pregnancy entered its third trimester, Aria was glowing—but with a fiery determination that made Leon question who the real CEO in the household was.
"I'm telling you, Leon, the giraffe wallpaper is too busy. It makes the room feel smaller." Aria stood in the middle of the nursery with her hands on her hips, her belly leading the way like a proud banner. "We should go with something more minimal. Clouds, maybe. Or stars."
Leon lowered the small bookshelf he had just assembled with meticulous care, staring at her in disbelief. "You chose the giraffe wallpaper."
"That was before. Now I've changed my mind."
"That was three days ago."
She turned her head slowly, narrowing her eyes. "Are you saying I'm being unreasonable?"
Leon bit back a smile. "No, sweetheart. I'm saying you're nesting like a woman possessed."
She made a sound of mild offense, but her expression softened. "I just want everything to be perfect."
"It already is," he said gently, walking over and wrapping an arm around her waist. His hand automatically splayed over the swell of her stomach, instinctively protective. "And if you say giraffes are out, then they're out."
Aria sighed, leaning into his chest. "Sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me lately. I feel like there's always something that needs to be done or fixed or moved."
"It's normal." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "And adorable."
They spent the afternoon rearranging pillows, folding miniature onesies, and reorganizing the diaper storage for the third time that week. Leon didn't even complain when she asked him to reassemble the crib—again—so it would face the window instead of the wall.
By the time evening rolled around, Aria was completely spent.
She sank into the armchair in the nursery, breathing slowly. "My back is killing me."
"Say no more." Leon crouched before her, taking her feet gently into his hands and slipping off her socks. He began to massage them with slow, firm pressure, his thumbs working in practiced circles. "If there's one thing I'm proud of, it's how well I know your sore spots."
She groaned in appreciation, letting her head fall back. "I could marry you just for this."
"You already did." He smirked.
"And I'd do it again."
Minutes passed in quiet contentment, the light from the setting sun casting a golden warmth over the room. Aria blinked slowly, her eyelids fluttering shut. Her hand drifted over her stomach as though to reassure the babies, as if they'd been part of the conversation too.
"I think we'll name one of them after my mother," she murmured sleepily. "If it's a girl."
Leon didn't reply. He just kept massaging her feet, watching as she dozed off mid-sentence.
When her breathing grew steady and soft, he gently lifted her into his arms and carried her to their room. He didn't lay her down right away—just stood there a moment, holding her close, breathing her in.
The woman who turned his world upside down.
The woman carrying his whole heart—times three.
Once she was tucked under the sheets, Leon stepped back and looked down at her.
And in the stillness, he realized something else: no matter how chaotic his world had been before her, no matter how ruthless or powerful he was in business… nothing had ever given him this kind of peace.
This kind of purpose.