Semua Bab ENEMIES TO LOVERS: Bab 121 - Bab 130

The house had never been this loud. And somehow, it had never felt this full. Brielle stood in the doorway of the nursery, one hand resting on the frame, the other holding a warm mug she’d already forgotten to drink. Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the two bassinets placed side by side. Inside them, Lily and Rose slept peacefully, tiny chests rising and falling in perfect, delicate rhythm. Four children. The thought still caught her off guard. Behind her, the sound of bare feet padded across the hallway floor, followed by a familiar voice. “They’re still asleep?” Jaxon slipped an arm around her waist, resting his chin lightly on her shoulder as he looked into the nursery. His eyes softened instantly, the same way they had the moment Lily and Rose were placed in his arms for the first time. “For now,” Brielle murmured. “Which means we have exactly seven minutes before chaos begins.” Jaxon smiled. “Record breaking peace.” As if summoned by

The house was loud in the best possible way. Laughter bounced off the walls, small feet thundered down the hallway, and somewhere in the backyard a bubble machine hummed, releasing floating orbs that shimmered in the late afternoon sun. Brielle stood at the kitchen window for a moment longer than necessary, coffee mug warm in her hands, simply watching. Seven years ago, she never would have believed this was her life. Emma and Mason were racing each other across the lawn, their voices sharp with excitement as they argued about who had touched the sprinkler first. Now seven years old, they were all elbows and confidence—curious, bold, already opinionated. Emma had braided her hair herself that morning and was immensely proud of it. Mason had insisted on wearing his favorite superhero shirt even though it was technically inside out. Lily toddled behind them, her curls bouncing as she clutched a plastic butterfly, while Rose sat in the grass beside Jaxon, carefully stacking blocks an

Saturday mornings in the Reed house weren’t mornings at all. They were events. Brielle woke to the familiar orchestra of living—feet pounding down the hallway, the muffled thud of something being dropped, a child’s laugh turning into a squeal, and Jaxon’s voice calling out in the calm, practiced tone of a man who had learned how to be steady in the middle of storms. “Shoes on, Mason,” he said from somewhere near the kitchen. “Not socks. Not ‘I’ll carry them.’ Shoes.” “I am wearing shoes!” Mason yelled back, voice muffled like he had the shoe in his mouth. “You’re yelling with a shoe in your mouth,” Emma snapped. “That’s disgusting.” “It’s not in my mouth—” “It’s in your teeth,” Emma corrected with the authority of someone who was already entering her I am right about everything era. Brielle rolled over, smiled into her pillow, and let herself lie there for one precious second. She didn’t take these moments for granted—not anymore. Not after everything that had almost kept her

The first sign that the day was going to go sideways was the suspicious silence. Brielle should’ve known better than to trust silence in a house with five kids—especially when two of them were five-year-old twins with matching grins and a shared love of chaos. She stood at the kitchen counter, cracking eggs into a bowl, while Jaxon flipped pancakes on the stove like it was his personal morning ritual. Emma and Mason were at the table arguing about something that sounded like a “serious ethical debate,” but was probably just a disagreement over whose turn it was to feed the dog. Caleb babbled from his high chair, chewing the corner of a teething toy and glaring like he was personally offended by breakfast taking longer than two minutes. And Lily and Rose? Nowhere. Brielle wiped her hands on a towel and looked up. “Jaxon.” He didn’t even glance away from the pancake pan. “Mm-hmm.” “Where are the twins?” Jaxon’s spatula paused for half a second, then resumed. “In the house.” “T

The first sign something was wrong was that Emma Reed, normally the loudest person in the house besides the blender was quiet. Not “I’m plotting something” quiet. Not “I’m hiding a snack” quiet. This was… careful quiet. The kind that made Brielle’s mother instincts stand up like alarm bells. Brielle was rinsing strawberries at the kitchen sink when Emma drifted in, hovering by the counter like a tiny ghost in a glittery headband. She cleared her throat once. Then again. Brielle didn’t turn around right away. She’d learned that if you moved too fast with Emma, Emma retreated into herself like a turtle. So Brielle kept her hands in the water, calm and casual. “Hey, Em,” she said softly. “You okay?” Emma’s voice came out small. “Can I… ask you something?” Brielle dried her hands slowly and turned, leaning her hip against the counter. “Of course.” Emma’s eyes darted toward the hallway, then back. She whispered like the walls had ears. “Not in front of Mason.” Brielle’s brow lift