I woke to the soft chorus of birdsong filtering through the cabin's thin curtains, the lake's gentle lapping a soothing backdrop. The bed was warm, Miko still nestled beside me, her tail loosely draped over my leg. I lay there for a moment, savoring the quiet, my hand instinctively resting on her belly where our future grew. Fatherhood—still sinking in, but it made every dawn feel brighter.
A few minutes later, Miko stirred, her ears twitching as she blinked awake. She stretched languidly, her body arching like a cat in the sun, before rolling toward me with a sleepy smile. "Morning," she murmured, nuzzling my chest. "What's the plan today? Spill."
I grinned, kissing her forehead. "First, breakfast. Then... surprises."
She perked up, tail swishing. "Ooh, mysterious. Let's eat—I'm starving." Pregnancy cravings, maybe? We got up, and I whipped up a simple spread: eggs, fresh bread from the local market, and fruit we'd packed. We ate on the porch, the lake sparkling under the morning sun, chatting about nothing and everything. Her Bulgarian phrases slipped in effortlessly now, flexing that fluency she'd earned.
After breakfast, I cleared the plates with a wink. "Go put on a swimsuit. I'll meet you at the lake—I'm already ready." I'd slipped into trunks earlier, eager for the day.
Miko raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Bossy. Fine, but don't peek." She disappeared inside, and I headed down to the water's edge, the cool grass tickling my feet. The lake was pristine, framed by pines, not a soul in sight. I waded in up to my knees, the water refreshing against the building heat.
She emerged a bit later, sauntering down in a two-piece swimsuit—simple black fabric hugging her curves, accentuating the subtle swell of her belly. God, she looked stunning, the sun catching her hybrid features, her tail swaying with confidence. I couldn't hide my excitement; my expression must've given it away, and... well, other factors made it obvious, the water doing little to conceal my reaction.
Miko noticed immediately, her eyes flicking downward with a teasing grin. "Excited much?" she purred, hips swaying as she approached. "Is that for the lake, or for me? Poor thing, can't even hide it."
I laughed, splashing water her way. "Both. Now get in here before I drag you."
She dipped a toe in, giggling, but hesitated at the edge. I jumped in fully, diving under and surfacing with a whoop, beckoning her. "Come on!"
Miko waded in slowly, up to her waist, but froze when it got deeper. "I... I can't really swim," she admitted, ears flattening sheepishly. "Never learned properly."
"No problem," I said, swimming over and pulling her close. My arms wrapped around her waist, holding her afloat as we ventured deeper. She clung to me, legs wrapping around my hips for support, her body pressed against mine in the buoyant water. We fooled around like that—splashing, laughing, stolen kisses turning heated as her claws grazed my back. I spun her around, her tail wrapping my arm, our play turning intimate with whispered teases and lingering touches under the surface.
Emboldened, Miko tried swimming on her own, kicking off with a determined splash. She flailed adorably, arms windmilling, but sank like a stone after a few strokes, sputtering as she resurfaced. "Fail!" she laughed, standing up—luckily, the spot was shallow enough for her feet to touch bottom. I pulled her back into my arms, both of us breathless from laughter.
After a bit more swimming—or in her case, supervised floating—we called it quits. "Let's dry off and eat," I suggested, towing her to shore. We toweled down on the grass, sun-warmed and content, before heading inside.
I fired up the cabin's small kitchen, grilling fish we'd caught earlier and chopping veggies. The TV hummed in the background, some news channel droning in Bulgarian. Miko "helped" by wrapping her arms around me from behind, her tail teasing my legs, turning prep into playful distractions—nips on my neck, hands wandering until I nearly burned the food. "You're not helping," I chuckled, but didn't stop her.
Over the sizzle, I caught snippets from the TV: "mobilizatsiya," "Bulgariya," urgent tones about troops and borders. Bulgaria mobilizing? With the Russia-Romania strike fresh in mind, it hit like a gut punch—WW3 tensions creeping closer. I glanced at Miko, her back to the screen, and quickly flicked it off. No need to worry her, not now, not with our bubble so fragile.
We ate on the porch again, the meal simple but satisfying, the lake's calm easing any lingering shadows. As dusk fell, Miko yawned hugely. "Tired already," she mumbled, heading to bed.
She collapsed onto the mattress, out like a light the second her head hit the pillow. I joined her moments later, sliding under the covers. Instantly, even in sleep, she cuddled up—body shifting to press against me, tail entwining my leg, claws lightly on my chest. I held her close, the world's chaos distant for now, our little family the only anchor I needed.