A year later
POV: Ava
He yawned as he walked into the kitchen, shirt rumpled, his hair sticking up in ten different directions.
"My sleepy boy!" I gasped, practically throwing down the spatula to run and squish him in a hug. "You didn't even brush your hair—are you okay? Are you sick? Do I need to call someone? Am I a terrible mother for letting you sleep this long?!"
Adrien groaned, letting me cling to him like a koala. "Mom. It's Saturday."
"I don't care," I muttered into his chest. "My son deserves world-class mornings, even on Saturdays."
He wriggled out of my grip—barely—and plopped into the chair. "You're crazy. Also, I love you. But you're crazy."
I beamed. "Crazy for you, obviously."
"Obviously," he muttered into his mug.
I brought his tea over and crouched dramatically beside his chair, resting my chin on his knee like I used to when he was little and throwing tantrums. "You know what would make this morning even better?"
He narrowed his eyes. "No. No more baby pictures on the family group."
I gasped. "They're adorable! You in the duck onesie? Iconic."
"Mom."
I leaned forward, arms wrapped around his middle. "You're my baby. I'm legally allowed to smother you."
"You're the reason I have trust issues."
"And I'll cuddle you until you get over them."
He laughed—and it made something in my chest ache in the best way. Because even after all this year held—everything dark, broken, painful—he was still mine. Still here. Still choosing to laugh with me.
Then, quietly, he said, "You're okay now?"
I froze, just for a second. "Getting there," I said softly, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. "One clingy mom moment at a time."
"Good," he said. "'Cause I kinda need you to be okay. You're… everything."
I pulled him into a tight hug again. "You too, baby boy. Forever and always."