CHAPTER 83 : “SETTLING IN”

The morning light spilled softly into the bedroom, warm and calm. For once, there was no frantic rush, no chaos to greet us—just the gentle hum of our home slowly waking. Lucian was already up, reading at the kitchen table with a quiet concentration that seemed almost impossible after the past week’s whirlwind.

I lingered in bed for a few moments, listening to the soft tick of the clock and the faint murmur of the city outside. The girls had already been delivered to school without incident, their new routines settling into something that felt almost… normal.

“Morning,” I murmured, stepping into the kitchen. Lucian looked up, his calm smile steadying the edges of my nerves.

“Morning,” he replied, setting his book aside. “Sleep well?”

“Better than I have in a while,” I admitted. “It’s… strange, you know? The first week is over, and it feels like we’re starting to find our rhythm.”

Lucian nodded, pouring coffee into two mugs. “It’s the little things, Sophie. Getting up without panic. Knowing they’re safe and happy. It all adds up.”

By mid-morning, the quiet settled into something comforting. The apartment was peaceful, a rare kind of calm that allowed me to notice small details: the way sunlight hit the kitchen counter, the soft hum of the refrigerator, the smell of coffee mingling with autumn leaves drifting in through the open window.

Lucian leaned against the counter, watching me. “You’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“I have,” I said, stirring my coffee absentmindedly. “About the girls, about us… about how life feels like it’s finally… catching up to where it should be.”

He reached over, brushing his thumb across the back of my hand. “We’re catching up together. That’s what matters.”

The afternoon brought the first hints of routine again. School pickups were calmer than last week, the girls now familiar with the paths and hallways, with their teachers and new classmates. Aria bounced happily toward us, showing off a drawing she had made—a rainbow of colors with little stick-figure friends under a sun that radiated joy.

“Look!” she squealed. “It’s us! And it’s sunny!”

Arianna proudly held up a sticker chart, evidence of her excellent behavior during lessons. “I earned five stars today,” she said, voice quiet but triumphant.

Arian marched toward me, backpack swinging with precision, and presented her completed homework with the same attention to detail she had practiced all week. “All objectives achieved efficiently,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Cassian, naturally, had to narrate the entire scene. “And here we witness the victorious return of the tiny warriors, each carrying tales of glory and triumph from the battlefield of education!”

Adrian groaned. “I really do hate that.”

Lucian laughed quietly. “It’s part of their charm,” he said.

Back home, the girls transitioned into their new routine with ease. Snack time was filled with chatter about friends, lessons, and favorite parts of the day. Homework came next, with small arguments over pencils and crayons, quickly resolved with gentle guidance and a few laughs.

I sat beside Arianna as she carefully worked through her writing assignment. “You’re doing really well,” I said, smiling. “I love the details you’re including.”

She looked up at me, eyes shining. “I want to do my best. For you… and for me.”

Arian, already seated at the small table in the corner, meticulously checked her math problems. “Accuracy is critical,” she explained, as if stating the obvious.

Aria, meanwhile, was content to show me a drawing of our family, smiling proudly at every scribbled detail. “That’s you,” she said, pointing at the small stick figure with a heart, “and that’s Daddy… and me… and Arianna… and Arian!”

The day unfolded quietly after that. Lucian helped with laundry, Cassian “supervised” while dramatically recounting every little task to the girls, and Adrian—grudgingly helpful—managed to fold socks without throwing them across the room. My father called mid-afternoon to check in, his voice warm as always, asking about school, homework, and the girls’ adjustment.

By the evening, the apartment was filled with the quiet bustle of domesticity: the hum of the dishwasher, the soft scratch of pencils on paper, the occasional giggle from the living room.

Dinner was calm. The girls chatted happily about their day, swapping stories of new friends, funny moments in class, and favorite lessons. I watched them, heart swelling with pride and love. Lucian reached for my hand across the table, and I squeezed it, feeling the quiet strength of our partnership.

After dinner, we read together, a new routine emerging naturally. Aria curled into Lucian’s lap while Arianna leaned against me, and Arian sat nearby with a book of her own, reading silently but attentively. Even Cassian found a spot to settle, recounting a dramatic retelling of his “supervision” exploits. Adrian, surprisingly cooperative, nodded along, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

Later that night, after the girls were tucked into bed, Lucian and I lingered in the living room. The city lights twinkled outside the window, casting gentle reflections across the floor.

“You know,” I said softly, “I wasn’t sure we’d make it here. To this… normalcy.”

Lucian’s arm wrapped around me, steady and reassuring. “We did. One day at a time, one step at a time. And the girls… they’re thriving.”

“I know,” I whispered, leaning into him. “I just… never realized how much I’d needed this. To breathe. To feel safe. To feel home.”

He kissed my temple. “We’ve built it together. And every day, we make it stronger.”

Outside, the night was quiet, the city hum fading into the distance. Inside, our home was warm, full of love and laughter, of quiet victories and small triumphs. And I knew that no matter what tomorrow brought—challenges, routines, or simple days like this—we would face them together, step by step, heart to heart.