Chapter Text
The scent of plastic balloons and frosting filled the house. The sounds of children laughing and running in circles blended with the soothing music coming from the Bluetooth speaker that was hidden on the windowsill.
There was a cupcake table she’d fussed over, and perfectly strung signage that read “Happy Birthday Gigi!” in pastel letters. Asteria had done her best to keep everything in order. However, when six-year-olds are involved, nothing stays tidy.
The floor was covered in glitter. From the party hats, most likely. Or the table for crafts. Or simply the air itself.
Asteria had given up fighting the glitter, though she couldn’t recall when it began to appear everywhere in her home. It was simpler to leave some things alone.
As she sat down in the kitchen, adjusting the serviette stack for the third time, she heard the front door open.
She hesitated for a few seconds before slowly straightening and wiping her hands in her frock. The cloth was powder blue, silky, and carefully selected. Casual, not reckless. Comfortable, yet not indifferent.
Then she heard it—the high-pitched squeal, the sound of small feet slapping against tile, and the bright voice of her daughter yelling, “Lala!!”
Her heart did something painful, twisting like it always did when she heard the nickname that only Gigi got to call Lando, as sweet as it sounded.
Not because it hurt. But because it never didn’t.
Asteria stepped into the hallway just in time to see her daughter jump up into his arms, all curls and party dress and joy.
He hugged her as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
She wished it was.
“Hey, birthday girl,” he said, lifting her up as if she weighed nothing. “Guess what I brought.”
Asteria remained where she was, partially concealed by the doorway. She let them have their moment. She always did.
Gigi gasped when he held up a large, gleaming gift bag.
“It’s Bluey!”
“You said you wanted your favourite toy,” he smiled. “And I listen when you talk, don’t I?”
The party picked up again with the addition of his presence. He had always been good with kids—patient and playful in a way that never tried too hard.
Gigi clung to him like a magnet, pulling him from game to game, proudly showing him the cake, the crafts, the paper crowns.
Asteria focused on the cleanup. On keeping the parents and her friends company.
Every so often, one of her siblings would glance at her.
Atlas raised his eyebrows. Alistair scoffed, seemingly unamused.
“You two are ridiculous,” Auria whispered to her as she passed.
“Shut up,” she muttered back, without any heat.
She didn’t look at him unless she had to.
Didn’t meet his eyes.
Not because she didn’t want to.
But because she didn’t trust what might happen if she did.
By the time the sun began to dip low, casting golden shadows across the floorboards, most of the guests had filtered out.
The cousins were gone. The cake was half-eaten.
A cold evening breeze slipped through the open sliding doors, sending a quick shiver down her spine.
The balloons were slowly losing helium by now, and Gigi was curled up on the couch, her new plushie cradled in her arms, her eyelids heavy.
He was sitting beside her, gently stroking her hair.
Neither of them said much.
The quiet between them had always been louder than their words.
Asteria started clearing plates.
The last stretch of calm before bedtime.
Before she had to figure out what to say—or not say.
She wasn’t sure which would be harder.
“You want help?” he asked from behind her.
She didn’t look over. “I’ve got it.”
A beat.
Then the sound of footsteps, and the clink of dishes being stacked.
“I didn’t ask if you needed help,” he said softly. “I asked if you wanted it.”
That made her pause. Just for a second.
Then she nodded. Barely.
They worked in silence.
His presence beside her was too familiar. The way he moved. The way he handed her the clean plates.
It felt like no time had passed.
Like nothing had changed.
Except everything had.
“She had a good day,” he said quietly.
Asteria nodded again. “She did.”
He leaned against the counter, drying his hands.
“You did good, Ria.”
She stiffened at the nickname.
He used to call her that when he kissed her neck, when he held her in the dark.
It sounded softer than she remembered.
Or maybe she just missed it more than she wanted to admit.
“Don’t,” she murmured, not shifting her focus off drying the plates.
“What?”
“…”
“Saying your name?”
She finally looked at him. “Saying it like it still means something.”
He didn’t blink.
“It does.”
The air in the kitchen seemed to still.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
“You should go. She’s gonna fall asleep any minute.”
He looked at her a moment longer. Then nodded.
“I’ll come by tomorrow,” he said, walking toward the door. “Drop off the rest of the presents. If that’s okay.”
She didn’t answer.
He paused at the door. Turned back.
“I love you, you know.”
Her breath caught.
“Mhm.” She hummed softly, cutting him off before his words could settle.
He smiled, just barely.
Then he left.
And Asteria was alone in the kitchen, the last bits of glitter still clinging to her socks, the sink half-full, the house echoing with everything unsaid.