celebration. For family. For joy.
Tomorrow could wait.
The rest of the evening unfolded in that warm, golden kind of happiness that feels almost fragile in its perfection. The kind you don't question while you're in it, because questioning it might crack it open.
Elena fell asleep before the last guest even left, sugar-drunk and overstimulated, her tiny body surrendering completely the moment her head hit her pillow. Sienna lingered beside the crib for a few extra minutes, watching the soft rise and fall of her daughter's chest, brushing a curl away from her forehead.
Two years.
It felt impossible. And inevitable.
"She's out?" Alessandro asked quietly from the doorway.
"Completely." Sienna smiled without looking back. "Didn't even fight it."
"That's how you know it was a good day."
Sienna turned then, leaning lightly against the crib. "It was a perfect day."
