Lily had already abandoned the couch and was running toward the kitchen. "Uncle Franz! Uncle Franz! The baby moved! He heard us! He knows we’re his big sister and big brother!"
Franz appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "He responded to you?"
"I talked to him and he moved," Lily said. "Then Leo talked to him and he moved again. He knows our voices!"
Franz crossed to the couch and knelt beside Arianne, his hand resting on her belly. He didn’t say anything at first. Just felt. The baby shifted under his palm—not a kick, just a slow push, testing the boundary.
"He’s been moving a lot lately," Franz said. "I think he likes it when I sing to him."
"You sing to the baby?" Lily asked.
"Sometimes. When Mommy Aria is trying to sleep and the baby won’t stop kicking."
"What do you sing?"
"Whatever comes to mind. Lullabies. Old songs. Things I remember from when I was young."
Lily considered this. "I should practice piano more. I want to play for the baby. When he comes out. Real songs, not just scales."
"That’s a good idea. The baby will like that."
Leo’s smile had dimmed. He looked down at his hands, then at the Lion in his lap, then back at Franz. There was something troubled in his expression.
"What’s wrong, Leo?" Arianne asked.
He hesitated. Then: "Can’t sing. Can’t play. For the baby." The words were halting, each one an effort, but they were clear.
Arianne reached over and placed her hand on his head. His hair was soft beneath her palm, a little tangled from the day’s activities. "You don’t need to sing or play. You can do other things for the baby."
"What things?"
"You can draw for him. You can talk to him. You can teach him things when he’s older." She paused. "Right now, you could get me something to drink. I’m very thirsty, and I think the baby is too."
Leo’s expression brightened immediately. He slid off the couch, the Lion clutched under one arm, his tablet abandoned on the cushion. He padded toward the kitchen with the careful determination of a child who had been given an important mission.
Lily, meanwhile, had climbed onto the couch beside Arianne and was bombarding Franz with questions. "What kind of songs does the baby like? Does he like fast songs or slow songs? Can he hear the words or just the music? How do you know he likes it when you sing?"
"The baby moves when I sing," Franz said. "I think that means he likes it."
"Maybe he’s dancing."
"Maybe."
"If he’s dancing, he’ll be a good dancer when he grows up. Leo and I can teach him. We’re not very good dancers yet, but we’re learning."
Arianne was only half-listening. Her attention was on the kitchen doorway, waiting for Leo to return. She was still thinking about his face when the kick came—the shock of it first, and then the joy, spreading before he could stop it. Five years old and already asking what he could give.
He appeared a moment later, moving with exaggerated care. He had a glass of red tea in one hand—Aunt Estella must have helped him pour it—and the Lion doll tucked under his other arm. He was concentrating very hard on not spilling, his brow furrowed, his feet placed one in front of the other. Lily stopped talking. Franz turned. Everyone in the room watched Leo make his careful way across the rug.
He made it almost all the way to the couch.
His foot caught on the edge of the rug. He stumbled. The glass tilted. The Lion slipped from under his arm and hit the floor just as the red tea splashed across it, soaking the worn fur and pooling on the hardwood. The glass followed a moment later, shattering with a sharp crack.
Franz was on his feet before the sound finished echoing. He caught Leo by the shoulders, steadying him, his hands moving quickly over the boy’s arms and legs. "Are you hurt? Leo, are you okay?"
Leo shook his head. His eyes were fixed on the Lion, lying in a puddle of red tea, its fur dark and wet. "Sorry," he whispered. "Sorry. I spilled. On Lion."
"Hey. It’s okay." Arianne’s voice was calm, steady. "Accidents happen. It’s just tea. The Lion can be washed."
"The Lion needs a bath now too," Franz said, still holding Leo’s shoulders. "Just like the whale. He was probably jealous that the whale got cleaned and he didn’t."
Leo didn’t look convinced, but some of the distress faded from his expression. Franz released his shoulders and bent to pick up the Lion from the floor. The doll was soaked, dripping red tea onto the hardwood, its mended arm dark with moisture.
Then Franz went still.
There was a sound. Low, barely audible, but unmistakable. A buzzing. A mechanical hum, coming from inside the Lion.
He looked at Arianne. Her expression had changed—the calm reassurance replaced by something sharper. She had heard it too.
"What’s that sound?" Lily asked, her head tilting. "It’s like a bee. Is there a bee in the house?"
"It’s probably the TV," Arianne said. Her voice was perfectly even. "There was a nature documentary on. They were showing bees earlier."
She met Franz’s eyes. The look she gave him was quick, but it carried everything he needed to know. Get it out of here. Now.
"I’ll take care of this," Franz said, straightening with the Lion in his hands. The buzzing was still audible, vibrating against his palm. "Don’t touch the broken glass. I’ll clean it. Leo, stay with Mommy Aria. I’ll be right back."
He left the sitting room without waiting for a response. In the hallway, away from the children’s eyes, he stopped and held the doll up. The hum was louder here. Steady. Patient. Whatever it was, it had been running a long time.
The Lion was wet and heavy in his hands, and the buzzing wouldn’t stop, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a cold certainty was forming.
Something was inside the doll. Something that had been put there. Something that wasn’t supposed to be.