Jora let out a quiet huff of laughter at his defeated sigh, tilting her head at him with a mock-smug look. “Exactly. She’s yours—chaos is in her blood,” she teased, though the warmth in her tone gave her away. Truth be told, she loved that about both of them. The trouble, the curiosity, the way they never stopped testing the edges of what was possible—it kept their lives from ever going dull.

When Sage leaned against the counter with that crooked grin of his, she raised a brow. “Oh, please. If I’m the dispenser of discipline, it’s only because someone has to keep you two from setting the house on fire.” Her smirk softened as her gaze flicked toward Lyra, who was humming to herself, utterly absorbed in her drawing. “And I’m pretty sure she’s already plotting to overthrow both of us.”

She didn’t miss the shift in his tone when he pulled her closer, the way his voice dipped quieter. Her chest tightened, and she wrapped her arms fully around him, holding on like she could anchor them both there in that moment. “And I never will,” she murmured back. “You’re stuck with me, even when you’re ready to give up. Especially then.”

Resting her cheek against him, she let the steady rhythm of his breathing wash over her. His promise—we’ll give them everything—settled deep within her, and she believed it, because she knew he meant it with every part of himself.

“We already are,” she said quietly. “And one day, they’ll know just how lucky they were to be born to us.” She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her lips curving in a small, certain smile. “And I’ll remind you, every single time, that you were worth it all.”