Toddler Hope was a force of nature.
She had Lina's imagination and Kai's musicality—and both parents' stubbornness. She threw tantrums when things didn't go her way. She refused to eat vegetables. She woke at dawn every day, ready to conquer the world.
"I'm exhausted," Lina confessed to Mia during a rare phone call. "She never stops."
"Welcome to parenthood. My sister's kid is the same way." Mia paused. "But you love it, right?"
"I love her. The exhaustion is just... part of it."
"That's parenthood. Exhaustion and love, mixed together."
Kai taught Hope piano.
She was too young for formal lessons, but she loved sitting beside him, banging on the keys, making "music." He was infinitely patient, guiding her tiny fingers, praising every sound.
"She's going to be a musician," he said proudly.
"She's going to be whatever she wants to be." Lina watched them from the doorway. "But yeah, probably a musician."
Hope looked up, grinned, and slammed both hands on the keys.
"That's my girl," Kai laughed.
Lina wrote during Hope's naps.
It was harder now—less time, more interruptions, constant exhaustion. But the words still came, different than before. Deeper, maybe. Richer.
Her editor loved the new direction.
"Motherhood has changed your writing," she said. "There's something... softer. More profound."
Lina thought about it. "I think I understand love differently now. Not just romantic love—all of it. Parental love, especially. It's so fierce."
"That's coming through. Readers are going to love it."