The sky over Vancouver was, for once,
clouded in early July, the air heavy and languid with moisture.
Until the day before, the Langley estate had been quiet—
but at 4:30 a.m,
it was jolted into motion by the sudden rhythm of labor pains.
"Three minutes apart. We need to move now."
Ellen, her private nurse and security aide,
kept her voice steady.
Celeste drew in a sharp breath and gave a curt nod.
Delivery Room – 6:22 a.m.
Sweat clung to her brow.
Her fingers trembled.
Even in pain, she never fully let go of her composure.
"Just a little more, Celeste! The baby's almost here!"
And then—
6:23 a.m.
A clear,
crystalline cry spilled into the pale morning light
beyond the window.
"It's a girl."
The words were followed by the gentle weight in her arms—
small, warm, impossibly delicate.
Jinwoo wiped at the corner of his eyes with the back of his hand.
Noah bowed his head, one palm pressed to his chest.
Daniel didn't take a single step forward—
instead, he sat beside her quietly, swallowing hard.
Later – Langley Estate, Legal Documents
Hours after the birth,
the child still had no name.
Celeste sat at the table with the three men,
each of them signing the Joint Custody Agreement.
"Legally, I'm the guardian.
But so are all three of you."
That afternoon, the name was chosen.
"Lumi," Celeste whispered.
"Because she's light."
Beyond the window,
the sun broke through the clouds for the first time that day.
And just like that, the world slipped into its fourth season.
First Light – Three Pairs of Hands
Lumi was still impossibly small—
a warm, breathing weight no heavier than a sigh.
"…How can anything be this tiny?"
Jinwoo was the first to hold her.
At first, his shoulders were stiff, awkward,
but when her breathing rose and fell against his chest,
his face softened, crumbling into something unguarded.
"She's… smiling? Or maybe dreaming."
He didn't look away for a single heartbeat.
Noah was next.
He took her into his arms without a word,
his palms steady, his gaze sharper than usual.
The sterile scent of the hospital faded—
replaced by the faint sweetness of milk and skin.
"There's not much in this world that's this clean,"
he murmured, almost to himself.
No one answered.
Last was Daniel.
He hesitated, fingers hovering as if afraid she might shatter.
But the moment he gathered her into his arms,
his shoulders eased, and a breath escaped him.
"She's… so light."
Yet his voice carried a weight,
as if that lightness might settle in his life
and never let go.
From the bed,
Celeste watched them in silence.
With every gaze that met the child's face,
with every shift of their hands to keep her safe,
she knew—
Lumi was already loved.
Outside, the clouds still lingered.
But light was spilling through,
the kind that didn't just fill a room—
it sank into three sets of arms
and one waiting heart.