"They've never slept this long."
"I know. It's terrifying and wonderful simultaneously." She leaned against my side. "What do we do?"
"Wake them up for their feeding?"
"The pediatrician said to let them sleep if they're sleeping. That their bodies will tell them when they need to eat."
"So we just… stand here and watch them sleep?"
"Apparently." She looked up at me. "Welcome to parenthood. Where everything you think you know is wrong, and the most stressful thing is when nothing's wrong."
Despite the absurdity, I smiled.
We stood in the nursery together, watching our children sleep peacefully for the first time, and I felt it settle into my bones: we'd made it. Through Marco, through prison, through the impossible early weeks of twin parenthood. We'd survived everything.
And now, in this quiet moment at three a.m. with nothing demanding our attention, nothing threatening our peace—we could finally just be. Parents. Partners. People who'd chosen each other and built something real.
"I love you," I whispered.
"I love you too." She took my hand. "Come back to bed. Let's enjoy this miracle while it lasts."
"They'll be awake in twenty minutes."
"Then we have twenty minutes of peace. Let's not waste it standing in the nursery."
She was right.
I followed her back to our bedroom, and we crawled under the covers together.
Valentina settled against my chest, my arm around her shoulders, her hand over my heart.
"This is nice," she murmured. "Just us. Quiet. No one needs anything."
"It is." I kissed her hair. "Though I give it ten minutes before someone starts crying."
"Pessimist."
"Realist."
We lay in the darkness, comfortable and warm and together.
Two minutes later, Eva started crying.
Valentina started laughing. "Called it."
"I'll get her." I started to rise, but she pulled me back down.
"Wait. Just ten more seconds. Let me enjoy this—you home, them safe, us together. Just ten seconds of perfect before the chaos starts again."
I held her tighter. "Ten seconds of perfect. I can do that."
We counted silently, breathing together.
Then Eva's cry intensified, and reality crashed back.
"Okay," Valentina said, releasing me. "Crisis mode activated."
I went to Eva while Valentina checked on Ezio—who'd somehow slept through his sister's screaming.
