The twins’ bedroom smelled like lavender. Arianne had started using the diffuser three weeks ago, after Lily complained that the room felt "too quiet" at night. Franz didn’t know if lavender actually helped children sleep, but Lily had stopped complaining, so he counted it as a win.
Arianne was kneeling beside Lily’s bed, tucking the blanket around her shoulders. Lily’s hair was spread across the pillow, dark against the white case. She was watching Arianne with the particular intensity she reserved for moments she wanted to remember.
"Did Lexx say any new words today?" Lily asked.
"He said ’ba’ seven times."
"That’s not a word."
"It’s a syllable. Syllables become words."
Lily considered this. "How many syllables does it take to make a word?"
"Depends on the word."
"Two."
"Two what?"
"Lily." Lily said it plainly. "Lil-y. Two syllables."
"Yes. Two syllables."
"Does Lexx know how to say ’Lily’ yet?"
"Not yet."
Lily nodded, accepting this. "He’ll learn. Leo’s been teaching him."
Arianne looked at Leo. The boy was in his bed, his tablet on his lap. He’d been scrolling through something, but his hands had stopped. Leo was watching Arianne.
"What’s Leo been teaching him?" Arianne asked.
Lily shrugged. "He practices his syllables. Lexx watches. He finds it interesting."
Leo’s hands moved on the tablet. YES.
Arianne crossed to his bed. She knelt beside it. "You practice your syllables?"
Leo looked at her. He set the tablet aside. His mouth opened. The word came out one syllable at a time. "Sometimes."
He’d heard Leo speak before. Short words. Halting phrases. Each time, it landed the same way — the boy’s voice soft, testing each syllable before he let it out.
Arianne didn’t react. Not the way she would have months ago. She looked at him. "That’s good. That’s very good."
Leo nodded. He kept his hands in his lap.
"Goodnight," Arianne said.
Leo’s mouth opened again. "Goodnight." The word came out clear. Two syllables. He’d been practicing.
Arianne leaned in and kissed his forehead. She did the same to Lily. "Don’t stay up too late."
"We won’t," Lily said.
Leo didn’t say anything. He watched Arianne leave.
Three months had passed since the announcement. Arianne had gone back to work. She got up early every morning before Lexx woke, put in time at the home gym, and was at her desk by eight. Franz had returned to the Rochefort Group alongside her, taking over the afternoon hours with Lexx so she could catch up on what she’d missed. It had become their rhythm: he picked up where she left off, and they passed Lexx between them at the end of the day like a handoff that neither of them minded.
Franz’s bedroom was warm. The crib sat against the far wall, positioned so it was visible from the bed. The room had changed since Lexx arrived — a rocking chair, a changing table, a shelf crowded with stuffed animals. Arianne’s side of the bed had a lamp she used for late-night feedings. He knew its particular light by now. The yellow of three in the morning.
Lexx was six months old. He could roll onto his tummy and back again, babbled constantly, responded to his name, and turned toward voices he recognized. Ellie had said he was developing well. Franz had repeated that to Arianne three times over dinner. She’d nodded each time.
Right now, Lexx was not sleeping. He was on his back, arms and legs wiggling, dark eyes fixed on Franz’s face. He’d been doing this for twenty minutes. Every time it looked like he was drifting off, the wiggling started again.
Franz stood beside the crib and looked down at his son.
"You’re really my child," he said. "You know how to act. Especially in front of your mother."
Lexx blinked.
"You do it on purpose. The moment she’s in the room, you cry. You know she’ll come."
Lexx waved an arm. A small sound came out — not a real cry, not yet.
"Don’t get all her attention," Franz said. "I waited for her for years. You’ve had her for six months. You can share."
Lexx blinked again. He made another sound.
Franz sighed. "You’re not going to sleep, are you?" He reached into the crib and adjusted the blanket. Lexx’s legs kicked. Franz caught one small foot in his hand.
"Restless," Franz said. "You get that from me."
Lexx kicked again. Franz held his foot. The baby was warm and solid, six months of feeding and sleeping and growing, already so much bigger than he’d been at birth. Franz remembered holding him the first time. The weight of him. The fear that he might break. He hadn’t broken. He was kicking.
Footsteps in the hallway. Arianne’s voice, calling something back toward the twins’ room. Franz looked at the door, then at Lexx.
Lexx’s face scrunched.
"Don’t," Franz said.
Lexx cried. Not the real kind. Franz had learned to tell the difference. The real cry was hungrier, louder. This one was performance. He knew she was close.
The door opened. Arianne stepped in. She had on her clothes from the day — she’d come straight from the twins’ room — and her hair had come loose at the back. She had the look of someone who had finished putting children to bed: not tired, exactly, but used up in the specific way that small hands and bedtime routines left on a person.
"What’s wrong with him?"
"He’s not sleeping."
"He was fine when I left."
"He misses you."
Arianne looked at him. Her eyes moved to Lexx, who had kept crying. She reached into the crib and picked him up.
The crying stopped immediately. Lexx looked at Arianne. His face broke into a grin. A giggle came out. A real one.
Franz shook his head. "I’m with him all day, and he prefers you."
"It’s because I carried him for months." Arianne adjusted Lexx in her arms. "I loved him the most."
"You loved him the most?"
"I’m his mother."
Franz watched her. She had Lexx braced against her chest. He’d stopped wiggling.
"I’ll be jealous," Franz said. "If you ignore me completely."
Arianne looked at him. "That would never happen."
"You don’t know me. I’m a jealous person."
Arianne laughed, surprised by it. "You’re not jealous."
"I’m jealous."
"Of your son."
"Of anyone who gets all your attention."
Arianne looked at him. Lexx was in her arms, playing with the collar of her shirt. He’d stopped crying. He was making small sounds. Ba. Ba. Over and over.
"Ba," Arianne said back.
Lexx giggled.
Franz watched them. The way they looked at each other. Lexx’s small hand curled around Arianne’s finger.
"It’s been a while," Franz said.
Arianne looked at him. "What?"
"Us." He wasn’t looking at Lexx anymore. "We haven’t been close in a long time."
Arianne didn’t answer. She looked down at Lexx. He was babbling against her collar, indifferent to everything.