The overseas call had lasted three hours.
Arianne had been prepared for two. She had blocked off her afternoon, arranging for Aunt Estella to watch the twins, making sure Franz knew she would be unavailable. But negotiations had stretched on, the other party asking for revisions she had already rejected, and by the time she finally ended the call, her back ached from sitting too long and her bladder was protesting for the third time that hour.
At twenty-four weeks, everything took longer. Meetings. Bathroom breaks. The walk from her study to the kitchen. Her body was slowing down in ways she couldn’t control, and she was learning to accommodate it. The baby bump was more pronounced now, visible even under the loose blouses she wore to video calls, though she kept the camera angled so the other party wouldn’t see. The pregnancy was her own to reveal when she chose.
She had just closed her laptop when a knock came at the door. It opened a crack, and Leo’s face appeared in the gap, his dark eyes peering in at her. Behind him, Lily’s voice drifted through: "Mommy Aria, are you done with work? The baby stuff came! More deliveries!"
Arianne pressed her palms against the desk and pushed herself up, her body protesting the movement after so long in one position. "Yes. I’m done."
The door swung open fully. Lily stood beside Leo, practically vibrating with excitement.
"There’s more boxes! Aunt Estella already opened them. They’re in the nursery. Come see!"
Lily grabbed one of Arianne’s hands. Leo took the other. They pulled her down the hallway with the gentle insistence of children who had learned to be careful with Arianne but were too excited to walk at a normal pace.
The nursery was almost complete.
Sky blue walls, brighter now that the room was filled with furniture. The crib stood against the far wall, the one Franz and the twins had assembled together, its mobile of clouds and stars hanging above it. A bed had been added near the window—Franz’s insistence, so she could rest with the baby without going back and forth to their bedroom. The bedding was soft cream, the pillows arranged neatly. A small dresser stood against the opposite wall, its drawers already filled with tiny clothes organized by size.
New deliveries were stacked near the door. Aunt Estella had already opened the boxes and was sorting through the contents. More baby clothes. A package of swaddling blankets. A white noise machine shaped like a sheep. A small basket of baby toiletries—lotion, powder, the kind of things Arianne had never thought about before she was pregnant.
Lily surveyed the room. "We have a lot of clothes now. Do we need more? What if the baby grows too fast and nothing fits?"
Arianne lowered herself into the rocking chair, grateful for the chance to sit again. The chair creaked as she settled into it, her hand finding its familiar place on her belly. "Babies grow fast. He might not wear everything before he outgrows it. We don’t need too many clothes."
"What about other stuff? Aunt Estella says babies cry when they need things. When they pee or poop or get hungry. Or if they’re sick. So we need things to keep the baby clean."
"Aunt Estella is right. Babies can’t talk. Crying is the only way they can tell us something is wrong."
"That’s why we have to pay attention," Lily said, nodding. "So we know what the baby wants before it cries too much."
"That’s the idea."
Leo, who had been examining the new items near the dresser, crossed the room and stopped in front of the rocking chair. He held up his tablet. On the screen was a single question, one word at a time: Baby name?
Lily’s face lit up. "Yes! The baby’s name! We haven’t talked about the name! What are we going to call him? We can’t just call him ’the baby’ forever. He needs a real name."
Arianne looked at the two of them—Lily, bright-eyed and demanding, Leo, watchful, his tablet lowered and waiting. They had been planning for this baby for months. They had painted the nursery and assembled the crib, and organized the clothes. They had learned to keep their voices down so she could rest and brought her snacks when she was hungry and drawn pictures for the baby’s room. They had done everything except name him.
"Your Uncle Franz and I have already chosen a name," she said.
Lily’s eyes widened. "You did? What is it? Tell us!"
"You’ll have to wait until the baby is born. We’re keeping it a secret until then."
"But why?" Lily’s face crumpled into a pout. "We’re good at secrets. We kept the baby a secret for a long time. We can keep this secret too."
"I know you can. But some secrets are meant to be revealed at the right time."
Lily crossed her arms, her expression the particular mix of frustration and calculation that meant she was trying to find a loophole. "Fine. But the name should start with L. Like Lily. And Leo. We both start with L. The baby is our little sibling, so his name should start with L too. So we match."
Arianne felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. "Why does the baby have to match?"
"Because we’re family. Family should match."
Leo nodded in firm agreement. ME TOO. L NAME.
"It’s only fair," Lily added. "There are two of us with L names, so the baby should have one too. That’s math."
"That’s not math."
"It’s close to math."
Arianne laughed—a surprised sound, lighter than anything she’d managed in days. The journals were in her study, unopened. The weight of her mother’s secrets was waiting. But here, in this sky blue room with the children arguing about baby names, that weight felt distant. Manageable. Something she could set aside, at least for now.
"When will the baby come?" Lily asked. "How many more days?"
"Babies usually arrive around forty weeks. I’m at twenty-four weeks now. You tell me how many are left."
Lily’s brow furrowed. She began counting on her fingers, her lips moving silently. Beside her, Leo typed on his tablet and held it up: 16.
"Good job, Leo." Arianne reached out and patted his head. His hair was soft beneath her palm.
Lily’s pout returned. "I knew the answer. Leo just said it faster."
"You were also doing the math. You were just using your fingers instead of your tablet."
"His tablet is faster than my fingers. That’s not fair."
"Life isn’t always fair."
"That’s what Uncle Franz says." Lily sighed. Then she grabbed Leo’s hand. "Come on. We need to find a calendar. We can cross off the days until the baby comes. Like we did for Uncle Franz’s filming."
Leo nodded. CALENDAR. IMPORTANT.
"Ask Aunt Estella," Arianne said. "She’ll know where to find one."
"Okay!" Lily was already pulling Leo toward the door. "We’ll make a new chart! With colors! Blue for the baby because he’s a boy! And we can put stickers on the days when the baby kicks!"
Their voices faded down the hallway, Lily’s plans growing more elaborate with every step. Arianne remained in the rocking chair, her hand moving in slow circles over her belly. The baby stirred, a flutter, as if he knew he was being discussed.
She looked around the nursery. The crib, assembled and waiting. The bed, soft cream bedding, pillows arranged neatly. The dresser full of tiny clothes. The mobile of clouds and stars turning in the breeze from the window. The sky blue walls that Lily had chosen because blue was a color everyone liked.
Everything was ready. The room was complete. The only thing left was the baby himself, growing steadily inside her, sixteen weeks away from arriving. She turned over the name she and Franz had chosen, the reasons behind it. She would explain when the time came.
The journals were in her study. She hadn’t touched them since Franz placed them on the coffee table in her mother’s studio. She knew she should read them. She knew they held answers to questions she had carried for decades. But she wasn’t ready. Not yet. The discovery of the photographs had broken something open inside her, and she was learning how to live with what had spilled out.
Her mother had kept her milestones. Her mother had watched her from a distance. Her mother had held her, once, when she was small enough to fall asleep in her arms.
It wasn’t enough to undo the years of coldness. It wasn’t enough to erase the last words Ysabella had spoken to her. But it was something. A thread of connection she had never known existed. A door she could open when she was ready.
The rocking chair creaked as she moved. The mobile turned in the breeze. The afternoon sun fell through the window in long golden rectangles. Arianne closed her eyes and let herself go motionless.
Sixteen weeks. The baby would come in sixteen weeks.
She was ready.