Alina swallowed, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. Dante felt sothing tighten in his chest as he watched her, the way she tried not to cry, the way her shoulders drew in just a little.
"I think," Alia added softly, looking at Dante now, "so nas aren’t chosen. They arrive when the heart finally understands."
Sable leaned closer to Alina, pressing lightly against her side. "Mom’s na is pretty," he said in a small, certain voice.
Lucien nodded once in agreent. "It suits her."
Alina laughed through the tears she could no longer hold back, beckoning them closer before pulling them both into a hug, her heart overflowing with warmth.
After the family ti settled, Alina and Dante returned to their rooms. The babies were going to sleep with Dante, while Alina would be staying alone in her room.
Earlier, Alina had quietly talked with Dante about their plans. They were resting today, staying ho, and tomorrow they would take the babies to the mall and the park, letting them see the city, taste small joys, and simply be children. Dante had listened, nodding, already imagining how they would hold her hands, how Lucien would observe everything seriously, and how Sable would get distracted every two steps.
Aunt Lyla had prepared a proper al for everyone. Nothing extravagant, just warm ho cooked food that made Alina feel nostalgic. They ate peacefully, conversation light, no one in a hurry. It felt rare and precious.
Ethan still had not returned. Lyla ntioned, almost as an afterthought, that his friend had t with an accident, so Ethan decided to stay with him. Alina nodded quietly, saying it was fine.
Lyla loved playing with the babies. She laughed easily with them, let them tug at her sleeves, and listened seriously to their little stories as if every word mattered. Alia loved them too, though she could only do so from her bed. She called them closer, asked them to sit near her, and watched them with love and warmth in her eyes.
Because Alia had stayed in bed for years, her body had slowly adapted to stillness. Her muscles had weakened, her legs no longer rembered the simple act of standing. Even sitting upright for long made her tired. Walking no longer ca naturally to her. Her legs felt heavy, almost foreign, and they trembled sotis even when she barely moved, as though her body was unsure of what it was being asked to do.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to walk. Wanting had never been the problem. Sowhere along the way, her body had simply learned how to endure by staying still, by choosing the safest way it knew how to survive.
Georgia had told her, gently, that healing wouldn’t happen all at once. It wouldn’t be the kind where you stand up one day and everything feels normal again. It would be slow. Small. Sitting up a little longer than yesterday. Letting her legs move, even if it was only a little each day. Stretching her feet and knees while she lay there, reminding them they still belonged to her. Letting sunlight fall across her skin so her body could rember what warmth felt like.
"When the ti cos," Georgia had said softly, "you’ll take a few steps. With help. Even if it’s just beside the bed. That’s enough."
Alia had listened without speaking, her thoughts heavy but calm. The idea frightened her, the uncertainty of it all, but beneath that fear was sothing else too. A small, careful hope. She nodded once, slowly, agreeing to try.
Not today.
Not all at once.
But soon.
And for now, that was enough.
***
"Are they asleep?" Alina asked with a soft smile as Dante stepped out of the room, quietly pulling the door almost shut behind him.
"Yeah," he replied, lowering his voice instinctively, even though the babies were already deep asleep. "They’re out cold. But the bed is ridiculously small, and sohow two tiny bodies managed to take up all the space." He sighed, rolling his shoulders as if he were carrying a great burden, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed him.
Alina tilted her head, amused, her eyes shining. "Oh," she said lightly, pretending to think. "So... where are you going to sleep, then?"
Dante paused for a second, as if considering it. He looked down at her slowly, his gaze lingering, taking in the way her hair frad her face, the calm warmth she carried so naturally. "That," he said, his voice dropping a little, "is a very good question."
She crossed her arms loosely, leaning back against the wall, playful now. "Don’t tell the mighty Demon Lord has been defeated by two sleepy babies."
"They kicked ," he replied seriously. "One had a leg on my chest, the other stole my pillow. I was outnumbered, as usual."
She laughed quietly, trying not to make noise. "You’re exaggerating."
"I am not," he said, stepping a little closer. "Sable even pushed in his sleep. Very rude little mama’s boy."
Alina bit her lip, clearly enjoying this. "So... the couch?"
Dante glanced toward the couch, then back at her, unimpressed. "I have ruled territories harsher than that couch."
"The floor, then?" she teased.
He leaned down slightly, lowering his head to her level, his shadow stretching behind him. "Now you’re just being cruel."
Her heart skipped, but she kept her tone light. "Well, what do you want to do? Offer you a blanket and sympathy?"
He smiled slowly. "Sympathy would be nice. But I was hoping for better hospitality."
She raised a brow. "Hospitality?"
"Yes," he said calmly, his eyes darkening just a touch. "I took care of the kids. Surely I deserve so consideration."
Alina swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was. "You’re crazy, Principal sir," she murmured.
"And yet," he replied softly, "you’re smiling."
She looked away, caught. "You’re not answering."
"Neither are you," he countered smoothly, tilting his head as if studying her reaction. "You asked where I’m going to sleep. I’m still waiting for your suggestion." Then his lips curved, slow and dangerous in a way that made her pulse jump. "I’m your guest, you know. And you’re treating like this." He clicked his tongue softly, shaking his head with exaggerated disappointnt. "Very bad, Miss Alina. Very bad hospitality."
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