The morning stretched slow and gentle, like the kind they never used to have and soon it was time for breakfast. Tami suggested that they prayed before starting their day—"Dear God, thank you for waking me up today! I'm so happy to be alive. Thank you for my family, who loves me and takes care of me. I'm grateful for our home, where we laugh and play together. Please keep us safe and peaceful. Amen." little Tami prayed timidly
Naya helped Tami get dressed while Kain headed to the kitchen to prepare their meal. When Naya finished with Tami, she went to the bathroom to bathe and get dressed while Tami joined her father in the kitchen to prepare their meal
Naya joined them in the kitchen when she was done. She leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping the tea Kian had made. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla drifted through the apartment as he moved around the stove in his usual rhythm—barefoot, hoodie sleeves pushed up, humming quietly.
Tami sat cross-legged at the dining table, scribbling something into her notebook. Her bunny sat next to her, as always, and she paused now and then to glance up at her parents. Every so often, her gaze lingered, like she was still making sure this wasn't just another dream.
"What are you working on, sweetheart?" Naya asked.
"My story," Tami said without looking up.
"Story?"
"Yeah. It's about a girl who finds her way back to a family she didn't know she could have. With pancakes."
Kian raised a brow, flipping one of said pancakes onto a plate. "Am I the pancake dad?"
Tami giggled. "You're the dragon who protects the pancakes."
"I'll take that."
Naya smiled but didn't say anything. She was watching them—how natural they were together. Like this wasn't new. Like they'd always been this close. It made her feel both warm and unsure.
She was still learning what this role meant. Not mother, not yet. But something more than just dad's wife. A woman who stood in the middle space and tried her best.
Tami never made it hard, though. She'd started reaching for Naya's hand without thinking. Started asking her for opinions, offering her drawings, saving the middle seat on the couch for her. Little signs.
Signs that mattered.
---
Later that afternoon, while Kian took a call in his office, Naya and Tami sat in the living room putting together a puzzle—something colorful and oddly shaped that seemed to have no edges.
"You're good at this," Naya said.
Tami nodded. "Mom hated puzzles."
Naya froze just slightly at the word. She glanced down at the piece in her hand, unsure what to say.
"She said they were too slow. She liked fast things. Meetings. Planes. People who didn't waste her time."
There was no anger in Tami's voice. Just facts, delivered in the way children do when they've had time to understand more than they should.
"I used to wait by the door sometimes," Tami went on. "Just to see her before she left. I thought if I was fast enough, I could get a goodbye hug."
Naya reached out and rested a hand on her back.
"Did she ever come back slower?" Naya asked.
"No. But she brought gifts. Fancy ones. Dolls I couldn't touch. Shoes I couldn't wear outside."
"And what did you really want?"
Tami looked up, eyes soft but steady. "Dinner together. Someone to say good night. Like Dad did."
Naya swallowed the lump in her throat. "You deserve all of that. And more."
Tami gave a small smile and leaned into her. "That's why I picked you both. Because you stay."
---
When Kian came out of his office, he found them asleep on the couch—Tami curled against Naya's side, bunny dangling off the edge.
He didn't say anything.
Just stood there for a moment, taking it in.
The quiet peace.
The feeling of a home being built one morning, one bedtime, one puzzle piece at a time.
This wasn't just a trial period anymore.
This was the start of something real.