#lemon hotline

Marvin.

David.

Matilda was a name Leon had always been deeply attached to.

Marvin was named after an old friend of his from long ago. Leon rarely spoke about him, only that a terrible disease had swept through his village, claiming Marvin's life. Naming one of your sons after him was Leon's quiet way of honoring his memory.

David...

Well.

The name simply felt right.

Sleep hadn't become much easier over the years.

Pregnancy aches still lingered, and at least one of the triplets always seemed to wake in the middle of the night.

"I've got it, gorgeous," Leon whispered, gently pulling the blankets back over your shoulders.

"Go back to sleep."

Your eyes barely stayed open long enough to watch him disappear down the hallway before exhaustion claimed you once more.

Your children were clever.

Far too clever.

And just as sneaky as their father.

Leon adored every single one of them.

He would fetch them anything they asked for, protect them from anything that threatened them...

But he would gladly set the entire world on fire if it meant keeping you safe.

It was like every other day.

"MOM!"

A high-pitched whine echoed from the family room, tearing you from your sleep.

"Davi took my stuffie!"

"That's because you took my marbles!" another little voice shouted back.

You groaned into your pillow.

The bedroom door rattled for several seconds before tiny hands finally managed to push it open.

The boys had inherited your shorter stature, while Matilda, the eldest by only a few minutes, already stood just a little taller than her brothers.

The three little pups hurried over to the bed.

"Momma..." Marvin whispered, gently poking your cheek.

You considered pretending to stay asleep.

Maybe...

Just maybe...

They'd think you weren't home.

It didn't work.

One by one, two tiny noses pressed against your face.

You loved your children more than anything.

But you really wished they'd save their arguments until after eleven in the morning.

If you were to wander through the woods now...

You'd find that life had changed quite a bit.

Soon enough, the sound of heavier paws padded toward the crowded bedroom.

"You two, give each other back your toys and let your mother rest."

The stern voice belonged to your husband.

Deep grumbles accompanied his words as he gently ushered the pups out of the room. A chorus of tiny complaints echoed down the hallway before the room finally fell quiet again.

Moments later, Leon returned carrying a warm bowl of cinnamon and green apple oatmeal.

He carefully placed it on the nightstand before leaning over to pepper your face with scruffy kisses, his stubble kissing you aswell.

"They're gone now, my love," he murmured with a chuckle. "You can stop pretending."

His kisses trailed down to your neck, drawing a sleepy sigh from you.

"Mmm... how did you know I was awake?" you mumbled, lazily wrapping your arms around his broad frame.

Leon smiled.

"I'm obsessed with you," he said with a soft laugh. "I know all your little habits."

His fingers drifted through your hair as those familiar ocean-blue eyes studied your sleepy expression with nothing but adoration.

"I've spent so many mornings just admiring how peaceful you look."

Another gentle kiss found your forehead.

"I love you so much."

He smiled warmly.

"And... I made you oatmeal."

"Thank you," you replied, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Leon carefully helped you sit upright, settling the bowl into your lap before handing you a glass of water.

When he noticed you were still too tired to hold the spoon properly, he simply smiled and began feeding you himself.

"Our pups are growing up so fast," Leon said quietly.

You looked over at him.

The years had left faint lines around his eyes, his bags decreased when you too became parents and a few more strands of gray woven through his fur, but his smile...

His smile was exactly the same one that had stopped you in the middle of the forest all those years ago.

Warm.

Gentle.

And hopelessly in love with you.

The peaceful bliss between you and your husband was interrupted when your daughter called out for Leon.

He let out a quiet chuckle.

"That's my cue."

Leaning down, he kissed your forehead one last time before tightening the lavender pink apron around his body leaving to tend to her.

A few minutes later, you made your way into the family room.

An abundance of toys littered the floor—ones you had sewn and stitched by hand, purchased from the village, or found over the years for your children.

On the playmat sat Marvin and David, a reasonable distance apart. Both toddlers were eyeing each other suspiciously, an impressive amount of tension somehow existing between two children barely old enough to form complete sentences.

Marvin's face lit up the moment he saw you.

"Mommy!"

He stumbled to his feet before running straight into your legs.

"Good morning, Marv," you laughed, gently patting his head. "Now, what seems to be the problem between you and Davi?"

"He's being a meanie."

"That's not true!" David protested from the other side of the mat, crossing his tiny arms.

Normally, little disagreements didn't concern you.

But little disagreements became arguments.

Arguments became wrestling matches.

And today, you simply didn't have the energy for either.

Instead, you let them cool off on opposite sides of the room until they decided to make up on their own.

There wasn't much planned for the day.

Leon had practically placed you under house arrest ever since learning about your pregnancy.

According to him, you were to avoid lifting anything heavy, overworking yourself, wandering into the woods alone, or doing anything remotely dangerous.

He had even tried to stop you from getting out of bed to use the bathroom once.

Needless to say...

That argument had not gone in his favor.

So your day mostly consisted of reading, light cleaning, teaching the triplets, and preparing Leon's favorite stew for supper.

Eventually, nightfall arrived.

Together, you and Leon tucked the triplets into bed.

"Mama... can you read us a story?" Matilda asked quietly just as you reached for the bedroom door.

You exchanged a glance with Leon before opening it again.

Three pairs of puppy-dog eyes stared back at you.

One look was all it took.

You sighed dramatically.

"All right. Which book are we reading tonight?"

Your fingers glided across the spines of dozens of books lining the shelf.

"That one!" David exclaimed.

Matilda and Marvin eagerly nodded in agreement.

"This one?"

You pulled out a book.

Three little heads shook at once.

"This one?"

Another chorus of "No."

"The one by Great-Gigi," Marvin said.

Your hand stopped.

Nestled among the books was a thick volume bound in shimmering emerald cloth.

Beside it sat a framed photograph.

The triplets...

And Gigi.

Your chest tightened.

It had already been five years.

Five years since your grandmother peacefully passed away.

She had died in her own home with you and Leon by her side.

Years before her passing, you had finally gathered the courage to introduce your wolf husband to her...

Again.

At first, she had been understandably on edge.

After all, this was the same wolf who had accidentally eaten her decades earlier.

She needed a little time.

Preferably alone.

But eventually...

She came to know Leon.

Really know him.

He chopped firewood for her, listened to her stories, she taught Leon how to sew,

 Leon and Gigi played Whist, which, if you remember correctly, was a fast-paced, strategic trick-taking card game. They also played Pope Joan, a betting card game that used one of her wooden boards with colored compartments. You never enjoyed playing with Gigi yourself—she was incredibly competitive but against Leon? The two were neck and neck.

He trimmed the grass around her cottage,  uncovering dozens of toys that had been lost beneath the overgrown weeds. Seeing them again brought tears to her eyes as memories of you, your cousins, and your grandfather came rushing back.

She kept the ones that meant the most to her on a shelf beside old family photographs.

The rest she carefully packed away for your future children.

During the winters, Leon would leave behind bundles of his own shed fur so she could weave it into blankets and stay warm when firewood was scarce.

In return...

She taught him how to make her famous curry.

"If you're going to raise my great-grandbabies," she'd teased, "you'd better learn to cook something besides venison."

By then...

She considered Leon family.

Just as he had always considered her his. With a photo of you and Leon on her shelf next to her and grandpa.

The photograph beside the book had been taken not long before she passed.

The triplets had barely turned one.

None of them wanted to sit still.

The poor painter looked one brushstroke away from an aneurysm trying to capture all three children before one wandered off.

You couldn't help but smile through the ache.

That final day had come much sooner than you ever wanted.

Her death had broken you.

Gigi sat in her favorite chair, knitting tiny little coats for Matilda, Marvin, and David while you and Leon kept her company.

She wasn't afraid.

She welcomed the end with the same quiet strength she had lived with.

Knowing she'd watched you grow into a strong woman.

A devoted wife.

A loving mother.

And knowing you'd found someone who would cherish you long after she was gone.

She passed peacefully.

Certain she'd see Grandpa again.

Even after her death, you never stopped visiting.

You cared for her cottage so it wouldn't fall into ruin.

Every year on her birthday, you brought fresh purple coneflowers to the Bougainvillea tree that marked her resting place.

Leon always came with you.

He still repaired loose fence posts, patched the roof whenever it leaked, and kept the garden from becoming overgrown.

No one lived there anymore.

But somehow...

Keeping the house alive made it feel as though a part of Gigi was still there.

"...Mom?"

A small voice pulled you back to the present.

You looked down to find Matilda standing beside you, clutching her rain drop-patterned blanket.

She gently tapped your hip.

"Yes, sweetie?"

You blinked rapidly, trying to hide the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

Matilda reached up with tiny grabby hands, silently asking to be picked up so she could reach the book herself.

You smiled and lifted her into your arms.

"This one," she giggled, carefully pulling the emerald-covered book from the shelf.

"Ah..." Leon smiled as he recognized the title. "The Boy Who Cried Wolf. A classic."

A deep chuckle escaped him.

"Takes me back. Feels like just yesterday."

He let out a content sigh, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling as though reliving an old memory.

You slowly turned your head toward him.

So did all three of your children.

Four pairs of eyes silently judged him.

Feeling everyone's stare, Leon looked back down and immediately raised his hands in surrender.

"What?" he asked innocently. "It's not my fault they didn't believe him."

You couldn't help but laugh.

Taking the candle from the bedside table, Leon settled into the rocking chair with the book resting across his lap.

As you tucked Matilda beneath her blanket, his warm voice filled the room.

"'There once was a shepherd boy who watched over his flock...'"

The story carried softly through the quiet cabin.

Before Leon had even reached the halfway point...

Three tiny sets of snores filled the room.

He glanced down at the sleeping triplets and smiled.

"Gee..."

He closed the book with a quiet thump.

"Tough crowd."

Carefully placing it back onto the shelf, Leon turned toward you.

The smile on his face faded the moment he noticed the sadness in your eyes.

"Do you... want to talk, my love?"

He gently reached for your hand.

You looked toward the framed photograph sitting beside the emerald book.

Gigi.

Holding all three of your children in her lap.

"I..." You swallowed.

"I just don't want to believe she's gone."

Your voice barely rose above a whisper.

Leon followed your gaze.

He understood.

Gigi had been one of the most important people in your life.

And for the last years of hers...

You had been hers.

He quietly stepped over to the shelf, gently straightening the photograph before resting his hand against the frame.

"Me neither."

A soft smile crossed his face.

"She was a wonderful woman..."

He paused.

"...Especially when she wasn't trying to skin me."

He muttered the last part under his breath.

You still heard it.

Despite yourself, a small laugh escaped your lips.

Leon looked back at you, his expression growing gentle once more.

"But I know something."

He stepped beside you, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"She's proud of you."

He squeezed your hand.

"You became everything she hoped you'd become."

His eyes drifted toward the sleeping children.

"A wonderful mother."

Then to your wedding ring.

"A loving wife."

Finally...

Back to you.

"And the strongest woman I've ever known."

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead.

"And I have a feeling..."

His lips met yours as his smile softened.

"...she'd be very happy knowing her great-grandbabies fall asleep listening to stories from the big bad wolf."

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

"There she is," Leon said, giving that attractive smirk, his tail wagging happily.

"Why don't I do something to make you feel better?" he asked, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.

His sharp canines caught the candlelight as he gently swept you into his arms, one beneath your knees and the other supporting your back.

Without another word, Leon blew out the peppermint candle by the kids and carried you toward your shared bedroom.

It was safe to say that anyone passing by the cabin that night would've assumed something terrible was happening, as your cries of Leon's name echoed through the house, followed shortly by the unmistakable howl of one very happy wolf.

The next morning, every muscle in your body ached pleasantly.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before glancing over at the handsome wolf sleeping beside you. He looked utterly peaceful, as though he and sleep had finally been reunited after years apart.

The memory of the previous night surfaced, and warmth immediately rushed to your cheeks.

You could still spot faint bite marks scattered across your skin—little reminders of Leon's overly enthusiastic affection.

He had certainly put a great deal of energy into making you feel better.

Today promised to be another quiet day, so sleeping in a little longer couldn't hurt.

It was only seven in the morning. The sun had barely begun to climb above the horizon, its golden light shimmering across the cerulean waters beyond your cabin.

Smiling to yourself, you nestled back against your husband's warm, furry chest.

Your fingertips lazily traced slow circles over the left side of his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your hand.

Still asleep, Leon instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist, his large paw gently rubbing your lower back as he pulled you just a little closer.

Even in his sleep...

He never stopped holding you.

"I love you so much," you whispered against his chest.

Whatever Leon was dreaming about, he must have heard you.

His tail gave a sleepy little wag beneath the blankets.

You smiled.

Then...

Everything went dark.

You blinked.

Home?

No...

Not your home.

Your childhood home.

Morning sunlight streamed through the windows exactly as you remembered it. The scent of herbs and simmering broth drifted from the kitchen.

Your mother stood at the stove, stirring a pot.

A strange brew.

For a long moment, you simply stared.

Why were you here?

Was this...

A dream?

"My dear," your mother called softly, "could you come help me for a moment?"

It had been so many years since you'd last heard her voice that it almost didn't sound like hers anymore.

Confused, you wandered into the kitchen.

She never turned around.

You quietly handed her the herbs, bowls, and wooden spoon she seemed to need, though she never once looked at you.

"How was your grandmother's?" she asked.

You hesitated.

"...It was interesting."

"Oh?"

Her voice remained calm.

"How so?"

You gave a vague explanation of your visit.

She listened in silence.

The room grew strangely quiet.

Then...

She began speaking again.

Only now her words sounded distant.

Slurred.

As though she were talking from another room entirely.

Most of what she said blended together into meaningless murmurs.

Until...

"...your grandfather once saved a wolf."

You froze.

"He found the poor thing half-dead in the forest. Everyone else called it a freak of nature..."

A pause.

"...but he pitied it."

The spoon continued stirring.

Slowly.

Rhythmically.

You frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

Silence.

Then, without warning—

"Why didn't you tell us about Leon?"

Your breath caught.

"W-What?"

The spoon stopped.

Your mother slowly turned around.

It wasn't your mother.

Your heart dropped.

The smile on her face wasn't hers.

The eyes...

Weren't hers.

Around you, the house began to groan.

The walls splintered.

The ceiling cracked.

The floorboards shifted beneath your feet.

It felt as though the entire house was collapsing around you.

The figure took one slow step closer.

Its voice echoed unnaturally through the crumbling room.

"Why..."

Another step.

"...would you choose..."

The walls warped.

The windows shattered.

"...to lie with..."

Its face twisted into something almost unrecognizable.

"...a creature?"

The last word echoed through the house as everything around you began to fall apart.

"...A beast!"

The cry echoed through the distorted world.

Before you could react, your legs began moving on their own.

You couldn't stop them.

You couldn't even slow them down.

The world around you shifted.

The crumbling house disappeared.

You found yourself standing in the center of the village square.

A crowd surrounded a wooden stage.

Your heart stopped.

Leon.

He was chained to a post, his wrists bound in thick iron shackles.

Bruises darkened his face.

His fur was stained with blood and ash.

Villagers hurled rotten fruit and stones at him.

"Monster!"

"Freak!"

"Filthy mutt!"

Every insult struck harder than the last.

Leon slowly lifted his head.

Those beautiful ocean-blue eyes found yours.

They looked empty.

Like the sea after a storm.

"...Why?"

His voice cracked.

"I thought..."

A painful tear rolled down his cheek.

"...I thought you loved me."

"No..."

You tried to run toward him.

Your feet refused to move.

"Satan," the old pastor proclaimed, raising both hands toward the sky, "we return this filthy creature to the pits of Hell from which it came!"

A torch struck the wood beneath the platform.

The flames erupted instantly.

"LEON!"

You screamed until your throat burned.

He cried your name over and over as the fire climbed higher.

The smell of smoke.

The crackling flames.

His desperate howls.

Then...

Silence.

You jolted awake.

Your entire body trembled.

Your hands were tightly clutching Leon's fur.

Your quiet whimpers had awakened him.

"My love?"

His sleepy voice was thick with concern.

His ears drooped as he gently cupped your face.

"Baby... are you all right?"

You looked into those same blue eyes from your nightmare.

Only now...

They were full of warmth.

Not fear.

Not pain.

Just love.

You couldn't bring yourself to tell him about the dream.

It had haunted you ever since the day you met him.

Ever since that afternoon at Gigi's cottage.

It wasn't just a nightmare.

It was your greatest fear.

If the villagers ever discovered what Leon truly was...

Would they see the gentle husband who tucked your children into bed?

Or would they only see a monster?

The man who had attacked Leon all those years ago had been celebrated as a hero.

The village adored him.

He had even paid for your father's medicine in exchange for your hand in marriage.

The thought still made your stomach turn.

As though a woman could simply be bought.

As though love could be purchased like livestock.

You and Leon had never told anyone what really happened at Gigi's cottage.

The hunter had tracked you there after learning from your mother where you'd gone.

Thankfully, Gigi protected the truth.

She told the villagers no strange man had ever come to her home.

You lied as well.

Together, the two of you buried the secret.

Though she never truly understood why you wanted to protect the wolf who had swallowed her, she understood one thing perfectly.

She wanted to protect you.

And that meant protecting Leon, too.

Over the years, things slowly began to change.

Others like Leon started appearing.

Not all of them were hybrids.

Some were followers.

Others simply believed creatures like Leon deserved to be treated as people instead of monsters.

The village remained divided, but as the years passed, more and more people accepted Leon.

Some only tolerated him.

Others eventually welcomed him.

Just as Gigi had.

You'd even met a few of Leon's old acquaintances.

There was Ada—a mysterious puma hybrid who could shift between human and feline forms with startling ease. Her midnight-black fur and habit of disappearing without warning gave her the air of a witch. Leon rarely spoke about her or his past, and while you couldn't deny a tiny flicker of jealousy when you learned they'd once been close, Ada had always treated you with quiet respect.

Then there was Claire.

She was probably your favorite.

A bird hybrid with warm brown feathers instead of the white plumage you'd always associated with swans.

You'd spent hours buried in books from Gigi's shelves trying to understand how that was possible.

Swans were supposed to turn white as adults.

Maybe she was simply a late bloomer...

Though that theory fell apart once you met her equally brown-feathered brother, Chris.

Eventually, you stopped trying to make sense of it.

After all...

When your husband was a wolf who somehow defied every law of nature...

Perhaps nature had simply decided it didn't care much for rules.

You could barely feel your own body as Leon gently pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms securely around you.

"It's okay," he whispered, more to reassure himself than you. "It was just a nightmare."

You buried your face into the soft fur along his neck, slowly listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat until your breathing began to calm.

You thought back to the day you first met Leon.

Back then, he had been nervous around almost everything.

People.

Loud noises.

The possibility of being hunted.

Even speaking to you had taken courage.

But over the last twenty-eight years, that fear had slowly faded.

Now...

Things were afraid of him.

He carried himself with quiet confidence, his sharp instincts and stoic demeanor enough to make even the bravest person think twice before crossing him.

Yet whenever he was with you...

It was different.

He still kept his walls up around the rest of the world.

But he had given you the key to the door hidden behind them.

Beneath the focused expression, beneath the protective instincts, beneath the fearsome wolf everyone else saw...

Was simply Leon.

A gentle man who happened to be part wolf.

A husband who loved making terrible dad jokes just to hear you groan.

A father who would happily spend hours playing with his children.

A man who could never resist a homemade cookie.

Your relationship hadn't always been perfect.

When you were younger, the two of you had argued from time to time.

Sometimes one of you needed space, and you'd spend a few days apart before coming back together, apologizing, talking things through, and learning from the experience.

You grew together.

Now...

Leon would never raise his voice at you.

Not because the two of you never disagreed.

But because he had learned that love wasn't about winning arguments.

It was about protecting the peace you'd built together.

To Leon...

You were everything.

You looked up at him. (Both literally and figuratively)

He was still watching you with worried eyes, his ears lowered, silently making sure you were truly all right.

You reached up and gently stroked one of them.

He leaned into your touch without even realizing it.

You smiled faintly.

Though Leon never spoke about it...

You knew he had nightmares too.

He'd wake up tense, breathing harder than usual, sometimes gripping the blankets so tightly his claws nearly tore through them.

Whenever you asked if he was okay, he'd simply smile and tell you he was fine.

Just like you did.

Neither of you wanted the other carrying burdens that weren't theirs to bear.

But you both knew the truth.

Some wounds healed.

Others...

Simply became easier to live with.

So instead of asking him about the ghosts that haunted his sleep...

You held him a little tighter.

Just as he had held you.

Winter arrived much sooner than either of you expected.

Your daughter would be here soon.

After much discussion, you and Leon decided to name her Diana.

The name simply felt right.

Matilda had always been your only daughter, and despite loving her brothers dearly, she often felt there was a small disconnect between them.

Marvin and David argued almost every day, yet somehow they always found their way back to one another.

Matilda often found herself caught somewhere in the middle.

When it came to names, she and Marvin shared the same first initial, leaving David as the odd one out.

Giving your newest little one a name beginning with D somehow felt like it balanced everything.

Though, knowing your children...

They'd probably come up with a nickname before you ever did.

Kids were funny like that.

The forest disappeared beneath a blanket of fresh snow.

The lake had frozen solid, making it the perfect place for three energetic, high-maintenance children to burn off their endless supply of energy.

From a nearby tree stump, you smiled as Leon carefully helped the triplets skate across the ice.

The tiny winter coats and ear-muffs Gigi had knitted for them fit perfectly.

Each one was stitched in their favorite color, complete with their initials embroidered on the front.

Watching your husband laugh alongside your children made your chest ache in the best possible way.

Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones.

Perhaps it was simply happiness.

You rested a hand over your growing stomach.

"This will be your life soon, Diana," you whispered softly.

"I wonder what your siblings will end up calling you."

The triplets already had nicknames for one another.

Tillie.

Marv.

Davi.

Would Diana become Dee?

Di?

Only time would tell.

"Mommy!" David called, wobbling across the frozen lake toward you. "Come skate with us!"

Leon followed a few steps behind, keeping a careful eye on him.

You smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Mommy shouldn't be moving around too much right now."

You gently rubbed your belly.

"But I love watching you all have fun."

David's shoulders drooped into the world's tiniest pout.

You often found yourself talking to Diana before she was even born.

Sometimes you told her stories.

Sometimes you sang softly.

Sometimes...

You simply wished Gigi had lived long enough to meet her.

Sometimes Leon spoke to her, telling her how excited he was to meet her.

A few weeks before Diana's arrival, several of Leon's old friends stopped by to welcome the newest addition to your family.

Despite Leon's nervousness, the gathering turned into a warm little celebration.

Some of them were meeting you for the first time.

Others greeted you like an old friend.

By the end of the evening, your cabin overflowed with handmade baby clothes, blankets, tiny toys, and enough gifts to fill an entire corner of the nursery.

One friend even brought bundles of snowdrop flowers—the few blossoms brave enough to bloom during winter.

You arranged them in a clay vase beside your bed.

As everyone prepared to leave, they wished you an easy delivery.

You smiled.

You certainly hoped so.

The day finally arrived.

Diana was ready to enter the world.

Since this was your second pregnancy, you'd foolishly assumed it might be easier than the first.

Diana quickly proved otherwise.

She was every bit as stubborn as her older siblings.

The labor was long.

Exhausting.

Painful.

By the time it was over, you felt as though every ounce of strength had been drained from your body.

But when the medic finally placed the tiny newborn into your arms...a small pink butterfly flew onto her nose.

None of it mattered.

She was beautiful.

So incredibly small.

Perfect...

Almost.

The joy in the room dimmed when the medic quietly explained that Diana would need extra care during her first few months because of a few health complications.

Leon felt his heart sink.

Before leaving, the medic placed a firm hand on Leon's shoulder.

"This must be the last one, Kennedy."

Leon looked up.

"One more pregnancy could cost your wife her life."

The words struck him harder than any blade ever could.

"Take good care of her."

The medic glanced toward you, resting peacefully with Diana asleep against your chest.

"She needs at least six months to recover."

He paused.

"A year and a half would be even better."

Then, with one final nod, the medic disappeared into the falling snow.

Leon stood silently in the doorway.

Watching you.

Watching Diana.

Quietly thanking every god that both of you were still here.

With Diana's fragile health, she needed to be monitored every second.

Jill offered to watch over the triplets. They adored her, and Leon couldn't exactly keep you alive, watch over three little gremlins, and care for his fragile newborn all at the same time.

Diana had tiny little wolf ears that practically hugged the sides of her head. She had Leon's beautiful blue eyes—or at least, that's what Leon had told you. You hadn't gotten the chance to admire them yourself. After the medic placed Diana in your arms, the shock and exhaustion had overtaken you, and you'd passed out almost immediately. Leon had taken her into his arms from there.

The downside with Diana was that she hated being put down. She became fussy almost instantly whenever she wasn't being held.

In appearance, she favored Leon more than you, but she had inherited your gentle nature. Whenever Leon offered her his finger, she would wrap her tiny hand around it with surprising tenderness.

"My little Diana," Leon whispered.

He sat in the wooden rocking chair he'd carved years ago, gently rocking back and forth as snow drifted outside the stained-glass window. The winter landscape sparkled beneath the morning light.

Leaning down, he gave Diana a few playful puppy kisses, earning a tiny smile from the newborn.

Those beautiful icy-blue eyes stared back at him.

She was only three days old.

You, on the other hand, had spent most of those three days unconscious or asleep. Every movement sent pain through your body, so Leon carried you everywhere—from helping you to the bathroom to bringing your meals, rubbing your sore feet, reading books to you, and making sure you stayed comfortable.

And now...

For the first time since waking up...

You were finally able to hold your daughter without passing out moments later.

Diana slowly opened her eyes.

She looked directly into yours.

For a brief moment, it almost felt as though she were looking into your soul.

Then, one of her little newborn reflexes turned into what looked like the tiniest smile.

Your heart melted.

She was so unbelievably small.

Leon often joked that he could hold her in just one hand.

You'd tease him back by saying you probably could too.

She seemed calmer whenever she was with you, crying far less than she did with Leon.

With Leon, however...

She was always hungry.

It was almost as if she somehow knew which parent carried the milk.

Once the medic was satisfied with Diana's progress, he finally allowed the triplets to meet their baby sister.

To say they were excited would be an understatement.

Matilda carefully climbed onto the sofa with Diana cradled in her lap while Marvin and David repeatedly bounced on their toes, trying to peek over her shoulder.

The sight alone made you smile.

It was funny to think back to Matilda's very first impression of her little sister.

She had stared at Diana for a long moment before saying completely seriously,

"...She looks like a dried-up raisin."

Silence filled the room.

Then you burst into laughter.

It probably wasn't the appropriate reaction, but you couldn't help yourself.

It was so unexpected.

Leon tried to hide his smile, though the corners of his mouth betrayed him.

Despite her brutally honest first impression...

Matilda already loved her baby sister more than anything.

Getting up still proved to be difficult.

Whenever Leon wasn't around—much to his dismay—you'd painfully stumble around the house, determined to do things yourself despite his wishes.

One of the villagers had recently crafted what some people called a wheelchair. It was little more than a sturdy wooden basket with two large wheels attached to the sides, but it worked surprisingly well.

You'd read about them in a few books and had seen illustrations before, though you'd never expected to own one.

It didn't make moving painless...

But it certainly made it easier.

At least around the first floor.

You refused to let Leon carry both you and the wheelchair up and down the stairs every day. (Not that he was against it, he’d happily do it. It was more time to spend with you and hold you in his arms.)

Soon enough, a month had passed since Diana was born.

Her eyesight had begun to improve, and she curiously took in the world around her.

More often than not, though...

She simply stared at you.

If you spoke, her little head would slowly turn toward the sound of your voice.

If you moved across the room, her eyes followed you until you disappeared from sight.

Her newborn redness had faded, her complexion settling into its natural color. She was growing bigger every day...

And much, much hungrier.

Diana seemed fascinated by everything that involved you.

She'd happily play with your hair.

She'd curiously peek down the front of your shirt—

Clearly she was her father's daughter, always looking for food.

During tummy time, she'd stubbornly wiggle and squirm her way toward you before wrapping her tiny hands around your arm.

For a one-month-old...

She was surprisingly strong.

She was the cutest little thing.

Of course...

Diana had her difficult days too.

Especially at night.

Some nights she cried for hours, refusing to settle no matter what either of you tried.

Sometimes she simply wanted to sleep nestled safely between you and Leon.

Other times she had decided her diaper needed changing every twenty minutes.

And heaven forbid either of you put her down.

She would scream with all the determination her tiny lungs could manage.

It often took Leon quite a while to soothe her.

Strangely enough, the only thing that consistently worked was when he moved closer to you.

Leon once suggested handing Diana to you.

To both of your surprise...

She became even fussier.

So it wasn't that Diana had a favorite parent.

Not yet.

She simply had... preferences.

She preferred Leon for feeding, changing, and rocking her to sleep.

But when it came to looking around...

She only wanted to look at you.

Leon discovered this the hard way.

One afternoon, he accidentally interrupted one of Diana's intense "Mommy staring sessions."

Without warning, Diana reached up with both tiny hands...

And aggressively grabbed his nostrils.

Leon yelped.

You couldn't help but laugh.

"So much for being gentle," you teased.

Leon rubbed his poor nose.

"I thought we were bonding."

Maybe...

It was just one of her grumpy days.

On her happier days, Diana was incredibly affectionate with both of you.

She rarely seemed frightened by anything.

That alone was a surprise.

Her older siblings had been startled by nearly every unfamiliar sound when they were babies.

Diana, on the other hand, seemed endlessly curious about the world around her.

"Mom," Marvin asked one afternoon, watching Diana stare at you with unwavering concentration, "why does she do that?"

You looked down at your youngest daughter before smiling.

"Marv..."

You chuckled softly.

"I honestly can't explain it."

You gently brushed a finger across Diana's tiny cheek.

"This is just what she likes."

Eventually, Diana became a much happier baby.

She still had her difficult days, of course, but joy and curiosity quickly became the emotions she showed most often.

Spring was only a few months away.

Diana continued making little bits of progress every day.

She could hold her head up much better now and crawl toward you with surprising determination.

Standing on two feet would still take quite a while.

Though, technically...

Standing on all fours was part of her heritage.

You smiled to yourself.

Good Lord...

You remembered the day she "discovered" she had hands.

That alone had been adorable.

But nothing compared to when she realized she had feet.

The look of pure wonder on her tiny face had made both you and Leon laugh until your sides hurt.

You'd nearly wanted to eat her little cheeks when she gave you her first real smile.

Soon she began making little noises.

Soft "ahs," "ehs," and "ohs."

She cooed.

She gurgled.

She giggled whenever she was especially happy or wanted your attention.

She'd become a much more social baby too, reaching toward everyone with tiny grabby hands and flashing the sweetest little smiles.

Little by little, Diana also began recognizing the people around her.

She knew when it was feeding time.

She recognized her siblings.

Though, to be fair, they introduced themselves every single day.

"I'm Marv!"

"I'm Davi!"

"I'm Tillie!"

As if she might somehow forget overnight.

More importantly...

She knew her family.

A few weeks later, Diana was four months old.

She had begun recognizing her own name.

She didn't understand what "Diana" meant, of course.

But whenever someone said it, she'd turn her little head toward the voice that called her.

Managing Diana had become much easier.

That didn't mean life itself had gotten easier.

You still had three energetic little troublemakers running around the house.

Well...

Two, technically.

Matilda was fiercely protective of both her brothers, but she often preferred curling up with a book beside you.

Marvin and David, however...

They constantly competed for your attention.

Marvin wasn't quite as bad.

David, on the other hand...

Wanted his mother all to himself.

He especially got jealous whenever Matilda was reading with you.

Still...

You couldn't stay upset with him.

He had inherited your artistic side.

One evening, while you gently rocked Diana to sleep, tiny footsteps hurried across the floor.

"Mommy! Mommy! Look what I drew!"

David proudly held up a piece of paper.

You smiled before quickly putting a finger to your lips.

"Shhh..."

Unfortunately...

You weren't fast enough.

Diana's eyes slowly blinked open.

You closed yours for a moment.

Fifteen minutes of humming...

Gone.

Sensing your disappointment, David's excitement faded.

His little shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry, Davi," you whispered. "Give Mommy just a few minutes, okay? I promise I'll look at your drawing. I'm sure it's beautiful."

Those "few minutes..."

Turned into an hour.

By the time Diana was finally asleep again, David had curled up in his own bed.

Still clutching his drawing.

You quietly walked into his room.

"Davi..."

You softly sang his name while gently rubbing his shoulder.

His sleepy eyes fluttered open.

"Do you still want to show Mommy your picture?"

His face lit up instantly.

He eagerly grabbed the paper from his bedside table and held it out.

It was a beautiful painting of the lake and mountains near your home.

For a five-year-old...

It was incredibly impressive.

Especially considering he'd made the colors himself from berries, flowers, charcoal, and clay.

You smiled proudly.

"Would you like to paint with Mommy?"

Even though it was already late into the night, you knew Diana had been taking most of your attention lately.

Your older children needed moments with you too.

David nodded so enthusiastically you thought his head might fall off.

Trying to stay quiet, he hurried to his cupboard and carefully carried over his little jars of homemade paints.

The two of you painted together for hours.

Eventually, David wore himself out.

He fell asleep against your shoulder while you quietly cleaned the brushes, wiped the paint from his little face, and tucked him back into bed.

By the time Diana reached five months old, everyone noticed she was trying her hardest to talk.

None of it made the slightest bit of sense.

But that never stopped you or Leon from answering her.

Leon was especially good at it.

He spoke to her as though she were a fully grown adult.

One afternoon, Diana sat happily in her little high chair, enthusiastically eating the vegetable mash you'd prepared.

Well...

"Eating" might have been a generous word.

Most of it ended up on her face...

Her clothes...

The chair...

The floor...

Just like her father.

She babbled an entire sentence of complete nonsense.

Leon gasped dramatically.

"Oh, really?"

Diana squealed happily.

"And then what happened?"

She clapped her tiny hands together.

"No!"

Leon placed a paw over his chest in mock disbelief.

"You're telling me Marvin did what?"

Diana burst into giggles.

You couldn't stop laughing.

She had absolutely no idea what Leon was saying...

But somehow...

The conversation made perfect sense to both of them.

Thankfully, over the past few months, your chaotic toddlers and your wonderfully unpredictable little mood-baby had provided the perfect distraction from the pain of childbirth.

Little by little, you began feeling like yourself again.

You could walk without assistance now, though you still stumbled every so often.

The medic was pleased with your recovery and prescribed a few more healing herbs, reminding you that it would likely take until the end of the year before your body had fully recovered.

For the first time in months...

You finally felt hopeful.

"Mama! Papa!"

A chorus of excited voices echoed from upstairs.

Moments later, six little paws thundered down the hallway before four energetic children barreled down the staircase with Marvin holding his sister toward you and Leon.

"Deena spoke!" Marvin shouted excitedly.

Deena?

So... that's the nickname they had settled on.

Never mind that.

Diana spoke?

"What?!" you exclaimed, immediately abandoning the pot simmering over the fireplace.

Leon looked up from the wooden toy he had been carving.

Marvin proudly held his little sister out toward you.

"Say it again, Dee," he encouraged with a grin.

Diana...

Simply stared.

She looked at you.

Then Leon.

Then back at you again.

The two of you waited expectantly.

Nothing.

"Come on," Marvin pleaded, giving her the tiniest little bounce.

"Maybe she has stage fright," David suggested very seriously.

Matilda nodded as though that explanation made perfect sense.

Diana only giggled.

You gently lifted her from Marvin's arms and settled her on your hip.

"Maybe she's just not ready yet."

You smiled as you softly tickled her tiny belly.

"Aren't you, you little tease?"

She squealed with laughter.

"Just give her some time," you told the triplets. "Eventually she'll talk."

"But Mama," Marvin insisted, "she did talk!"

"She said 'stars,'" <get it> Matilda added confidently.

Leon smiled to himself.

"That wouldn't surprise me," he said, setting his carving knife aside. "There are stars painted all over her crib, her blankets... even the little wooden mobile hanging above her bed."

You looked down at Diana.

"So..."

You smiled warmly.

"Did you really say 'stars?'"

Diana blinked.

"...Ba."

A beat of silence passed.

Then everyone in the room burst into laughter.

Leon chuckled, scratching behind one of her tiny wolf ears.

"I think she's keeping us on our toes already."

You laughed and kissed the top of Diana's head.

"Definitely your father's daughter."

Leon gasped dramatically.

"I'll have you know my first words were incredibly sophisticated."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

Leon nodded with complete confidence.

"I probably said something profound."

Matilda tilted her head.

"Papa..."

"...Didn't you tell us your first word was 'food?'"

Leon froze.

"...I refuse to answer that question."

The room erupted into laughter once again, Diana happily joining in despite having absolutely no idea why everyone was laughing.

Three months passed, and Diana still hadn't spoken a single word.

Eventually, the time came for your yearly visit to Gigi.

The journey was peaceful.

Leon gently held your hand as the two of you walked down the familiar forest trail, recalling old memories together while absentmindedly telling Diana stories about the woman she had never met.

Soon enough, the three of you arrived at the little clearing where Gigi rested.

You knelt beside the headstone with Diana safely cradled in your arms.

"This is your Great-Gigi, Diana," you said softly, drawing her attention toward the weathered stone.

Here Lies Diana Known by Her Loved One as Gigi.

The name carried more meaning than Diana could possibly understand.

She had been named after your grandmother.

After the woman who had helped raise you.

The woman who had taught you how to cook, comforted you, welcomed Leon into the family, and loved your children as if she'd been given a second chance at motherhood.

Unfortunately...

She would never get to meet the little girl who carried her name.

You placed a small purple coneflower into Diana's tiny hands, silently hoping her curiosity wouldn't convince her to try eating it.

"She was the best Gigi I could've ever asked for," you whispered.

Diana stared quietly at the flower.

Her little face scrunched up in concentration.

Her mouth moved oddly, as if she were carefully trying to figure something out.

You and Leon exchanged curious glances before looking back down at her.

"...Gigi."

The tiny voice was barely above a whisper.

Your heart stopped.

Leon froze beside you.

"What...?" you breathed.

Your eyes filled with tears almost instantly.

"Diana..." you whispered, smiling through them. "Can you say that again, sweetheart?"

The baby looked between the two of you.

Then back toward the headstone.

A bright smile spread across her face.

"Gigi."

Silence settled over the clearing.

A shaky laugh escaped your lips before tears finally spilled down your cheeks.

Leon wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his own eyes shimmering.

"I think..." he whispered, his voice catching, "...I think she'd have loved hearing that."

"I know she would've."

A cool breeze drifted through the clearing, carrying the scent of wildflowers through the trees, a wild pink butterfly landing gently atop Diana's purple coneflower.

The infant watched it with wide, fascinated eyes.

You smiled through your tears.

"She loved butterflies," you murmured, remembering how Gigi would stop whatever she was doing just to admire one drifting through her garden.

Leon quietly squeezed your hand.

"I'd like to think she's saying hello."

The butterfly lingered for another moment before taking flight, disappearing into the sea of blooming flowers surrounding the grave.

For just a moment...

The forest felt warmer.

The silence felt comforting instead of lonely.

And somehow...

It almost felt like Gigi was there with you...