Serena's POV
I was on my knees. Literally.
Not from battle fatigue or a twisted ankle, but because I needed to match Rodan's height and look him in the eye like a Serious Adult Who Was Holding It Together and Not About to Cry. (Spoiler alert: I was definitely about to cry.)
His little hands were nestled inside mine, warm and tiny, and suddenly they felt like the most important things in the world.
"Sweetie…" My voice cracked. 'Ugh. Off to a great start.' "Take care of your little sister while Mom and I are gone, okay? We'll just be away for a few days."
I saw his brows knit together in what he clearly thought was a responsible adult expression. It was so serious and sincere that my tear ducts flared up with renewed determination to betray me.
Beside me, Valerie crouched slightly, her hand reaching out to ruffle Rodan's hair with a smile so effortlessly calm, I wanted to shove her playfully and also cry into her shoulder. "And ask your Aunts for help, alright?" she added, because of course she had to sound like the composed one here.
Rodan nodded, his face more solemn than I'd ever seen. "I won't let a single thing happen to her." he said, and he meant it. "I'll take care of her. Promise."
And that was it. I was done. A goner. Emotionally compromised beyond saving. My eyes were full of tears again, glistening like I was about to star in a melodramatic telenovela. All I needed was some background violin music and a stormy sky.
I stood up slowly, steeling myself, and looked down at Rodan with all the gravitas I could muster. "You too," I said, trying to keep my voice from wobbling again. "Take care of yourself. And whatever you do, don't ever leave Aunt Brianna's or Aunt Cecilia's side, okay? Not even to chase a butterfly or pee."
He nodded again, eyes sharp. "Understood, Mommy."
I smiled and pulled him into another hug, tighter this time. Then I turned to Cristina. My sweet, gurgling little potato. I scooped her into my arms, and she immediately clutched my face like she wanted to absorb it into her own.
I pressed our cheeks together and gave her a firm rub, earning an excited gurgle and a gleeful squeal in return. "You," I said sternly, staring into her big, innocent eyes, "must not make things hard for your brother. And if something hurts, cry. Loudly. Be dramatic. Let the world know."
Cristina let out a high-pitched squeal of joy that probably meant, "I will do the exact opposite, thanks, Mother."
Valerie, who was now definitely enjoying herself a bit too much, let out a soft laugh. "Hon, she's nine months old. She doesn't understand a single word."
"She does in her soul," I retorted, not missing a beat. "This is emotional imprinting. Very advanced parenting technique."
I ignored Valerie's amused snort and hugged Rodan again, then kissed Cristina's head.
And then, of course, I spent another fifteen minutes giving Brianna a checklist, then a backup checklist, then a checklist for the backup checklist. I made Cecilia swear three times that she'd watch for any signs of teething, crankiness, or suspiciously quiet behavior.
Finally—finally—Valerie pulled me toward the door and away from the kids, probably because I was five minutes away from installing a security camera disguised as a decorative vase.
We left the hotel, got into the car, and as the engine started, I sighed dramatically and slumped back into the seat.
"I feel like they're going to forget about us the moment we hit the main road." I muttered, staring at the rearview mirror like I expected Rodan and Cristina to be chasing us down the road waving baby-sized flags.
Valerie chuckled and reached over to squeeze my hand. "They'll be fine. You need to take a break, Serena. Even warrior-moms need rest."
I turned to look at her—and there it was again. That stupidly beautiful, comforting smile that made my chest flutter and my knees weak and reminded me why I married this unfairly hot woman in the first place.
"Yeah." I exhaled, smiling back. "You're right. It's our honeymoon. Time to relax."
Also, the time to also plot my revenge.
Because while my heart may have been aching from maternal separation, my body? It still remembers last night's exercise and this morning's encore. Valerie pushed me to my limits. Physically. I won't go into detail, but let's just say my legs still remember, and my dignity is still in recovery.
And she was sitting there, humming to the radio, all smug and casual like she didn't just break me in our honeymoon suite less than twelve hours ago.
I leaned my head against the window, the sea view rolling by, and smirked to myself. She has no idea. No clue what she's unleashed.
'You want to push me to my limits, dear wife? Fine. Just wait. Let me relax for a few minutes, hydrate, mentally recover… and then?'
Oh, she's in trouble.
Because while I may cry when I leave my kids— I will not lose in the bedroom battlefield (AN - You already did).
'Let the honeymoon games begin.'