[Sophie’s POV]

Spring arrives with flowers and longer days and the gradual return of normalcy.

The city transforms around us, shedding its winter gray for something softer, more hopeful. Cherry blossoms burst along the streets in clouds of pink and white, their petals drifting like confetti through the warming air. The windows stay open now, letting in breezes that smell of new growth and possibility. After months of siege mentality—of lawsuits and threats and uncertainty—the change of seasons feels like permission to finally exhale.

Maggie is three months old now, her newborn features softening into something more distinctly her own. The scrunched, alien quality of her earliest days has given way to roundness and expression, a face that changes almost daily as she grows into herself. She has Adrian’s eyes—I’m certain of it now, those same deep brown depths that first caught my attention across a crowded room—and my nose, and an expression when she’s concentrating that reminds me inexplicably of Cassian. Nature versus nurture, already blending in ways the DNA test could never capture. She’s becoming a person, our person, shaped by biology and love in equal measure.

The lawsuit feels like ancient history, a battle fought in another lifetime. The documents are filed away somewhere, the legal fees paid, the victory secured—and none of it matters anymore, not really. Lisette has gone quiet—whether because of the court order or because she’s simply moved on to other targets, I don’t know and don’t particularly care. The shadow she cast over our lives has finally receded, leaving space for something brighter to grow. The future we’ve been fighting for has finally arrived, and I’m too busy living it to worry about shadows from the past.

“She’s smiling,” Adrian says one morning, his voice hushed with wonder. He’s sitting on the living room floor, still in his pajamas, coffee forgotten and growing cold on the table beside him. The morning light streams through the windows, painting everything in shades of gold, and in this moment, he looks younger than I’ve ever seen him—unmarked by worry, illuminated by joy. “Look—she’s actually smiling.”

I lean over his shoulder to see, my heart already swelling with anticipation. Maggie is in her bouncer, gazing up at the mobile of silver stars we hung above it, and her face is indeed transformed by what can only be described as a smile. Not gas, not a reflex—a genuine, intentional expression of joy. Her whole face participates: eyes crinkling, cheeks bunching, gums showing in a display of pure, unfiltered happiness.

“Her first real smile,” I whisper, my voice catching on the wonder of it. Tears spring to my eyes—the hormones have never fully settled, and moments like this undo me completely. “Where’s Cassian? He needs to see this.”

“Right here.” He appears in the doorway, phone already raised to capture the moment. He’s been hovering nearby, I realize—never far, always ready. “Hold her there. Let me get a video.”

We document the milestone with the enthusiasm of first-time parents, which is what we are despite there being three of us. The phone captures Maggie from every angle, her smile appearing and reappearing as she responds to our delighted faces. Every tiny development feels monumental—the first smile, the first time she tracks a face across the room, the first coo that sounds almost like it might be a word. We celebrate each one as if no baby has ever achieved these things before, because to us, no baby ever has.

“She’s going to be brilliant,” Cassian declares, zooming in on her face with the concentration of a documentary filmmaker. “Look at her problem-solving face.”

“She’s three months old,” Adrian points out, amusement threading through his voice. “She doesn’t have a problem-solving face yet.”

“She absolutely does. That’s the face of someone figuring out how to get that star within grabbing distance.”

I laugh, the sound easy and free in a way it hasn’t been for months. The joy bubbles up from somewhere deep, unstoppable, transforming me from the inside out. This is what we fought for. Not just the right to exist as a family, but the joy of experiencing it—the mundane magic of watching a tiny person discover the world. Every smile, every coo, every tiny milestone is a victory we earned together.

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