For once, Leon left his phone on the desk and turned the key in his office door, locking it with deliberate finality. When he stepped out into the living room, he carried no briefcase, no laptop—just his jacket over one arm and a smile meant only for Aria.
"Weekend's ours," he said simply.
Aria looked up from where she was buttoning Elias's tiny cardigan, surprise flashing in her eyes. "No meetings?"
"None that matter more than this," Leon replied, kneeling down to scoop Amara into his arms. The little girl squealed and tugged at his collar like she'd been waiting all week for this exact moment.
They bundled the triplets into their stroller, the early spring air cool but carrying just enough warmth to hint at the season's change. The park was dotted with families, kites flying high, and the distant sound of children's laughter carried on the breeze.
For Aria, it felt like stepping outside of the constant cycle of bottles and nap schedules and letting herself breathe in something bigger. Leon pushed the stroller at an unhurried pace, stopping whenever Lila pointed excitedly at a dog trotting past or when Elias leaned forward, eyes wide, at the sight of a fountain.
They found a spot beneath a blossoming tree and laid out a small blanket. The triplets sat wobbling between them, entertained by nothing more than the rustle of grass and the flutter of petals drifting down around them.
Leon stretched out beside them, one hand propping his head as he watched the girls try to catch the petals. "Do you realize," he said, amusement tugging at his lips, "that soon enough these three will be running circles around us?"
Aria laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I can hardly keep up with them now."
He leaned closer, voice quieter, the weight of thought beneath his teasing. "And once they're old enough to go to school… maybe we should think about it again."
Aria blinked at him, caught between laughter and surprise. "Think about what?"
"Another little one," he said, as if it were the most natural suggestion in the world. His gaze flicked to Elias, who was gnawing solemnly on his plush bunny's ear. "Elias and I are still badly outnumbered."
Aria shook her head, though the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her. "You're incorrigible."
"Practical," Leon corrected smoothly, brushing a fallen petal from her shoulder. "Three against two is a losing battle. We'll need reinforcements."
She laughed again, but she didn't dismiss the thought entirely. Instead, she leaned back against him, letting the warmth of the moment carry them forward. The triplets clapped their hands at a passing butterfly, the park alive with color and sound, and for the first time in weeks, Aria and Leon felt time slow down.
It was just them—no boardrooms, no chaos, no exhaustion—just the promise of what they already had and the faint, glimmering possibility of what might come next.