Naya sat up, the scent of roasted coffee and syrup pulling her out of bed. She threw on her robe and padded down the hallway. At the kitchen entrance, she paused—watching the two loves of her life.
Kain had flour on his cheek, flipping pancakes like a pro, while Tami sat on the counter in her unicorn pajamas, holding a mixing spoon like a microphone and singing whatever tune came to mind.
"You two started without me?" Naya said, leaning against the doorframe.
Tami turned and beamed. "Mama, we made a pancake tower!"
"Well," Kain added with a wink, "you can still help us eat it."
"You make this a habit, I might forget how to cook," she teased.
He smirked. "You don't even know where the pans are."
She rolled her eyes and slid her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his back. "Exactly why I'm keeping you."
They sat at the table, laughter bouncing off the walls, syrup sticking to fingers, kisses shared between bites. It wasn't extravagant. But it was peace. It was healing.
---
Later that Morning, Naya dressed Tami for school, brushing out her daughter's curly hair and adding two colorful clips. Kain drove them to the school gate, where Tami jumped out, gave them both a hug through the window. Naya walked Tami into school—something Clarissa had never once done. The little girl held her hand tightly, swinging it as they approached the gates.
"Will you still be here when I close my eyes at night?" Tami asked softly.
Naya knelt in front of her. "Every single night."
"Mommy, can we get cupcakes after school?"
"Only if you eat your lunch and behave," Naya replied, kissing the top of her head.
Tami nodded solemnly like it was a life-or-death oath.
"Tami" a girl around her age called from a distance while running towards them
"Be careful" the girl's mother warned from afar sounding worried but the carefree girl just rushed towards her friend oblivious to her mother's anxiousness
"Charlie" Tami screamed bemused, her attention was immediately diverted as she rushed to kiss Naya goodbye, smiled and ran off with her friend backpack bouncing.
Naya went back to the car and sat in the passenger seat, watching her daughter disappear into the crowd of kids, heart warm.
"She's happy," she murmured.
"She is," Kain agreed. "Because she's finally getting what she needs.
Back in the car, Naya exhaled. For the first time in forever, her schedule wasn't dictated by camera calls or press deadlines. Kain had helped her build a new routine—one where love wasn't a show, but a lifestyle. Her mornings were for Tami. Her afternoons for her new consultancy project. Her evenings were often family dinners or movie nights under thick blankets.
And Fridays? Fridays were for them.
Balancing work and home wasn't easy, but Naya had found a rhythm. She had officially resumed her role as a communications director at a high-profile firm, working hybrid hours and prioritizing weekends for family. The company had embraced her comeback, not just because of her skills, but because she'd become something of a public figure now—redefined, respected.
On weekdays, she managed meetings and presentations, juggling lunch prep, parent-teacher calls, and night-time storybooks. Kain picked up where she left off, always tagging in without complaint. They were no longer two people trying to figure it out—they were a team.
Friday nights were for her and Kain alone—sometimes a dinner out, sometimes just takeout and wine in bed. Saturdays were family days: zoo trips, picnic parks, and animated movies with popcorn fights. Sundays were slow. They slept in. Made pancakes together. Laughed like a real family.
But what made it all worth it was the look in Tami's eyes when she crawled into their bed early on Sunday mornings, sandwiching herself between them and whispering, "This is my favorite place in the world."
It wasn't perfect, but it was theirs.
And it was just getting started.
---
On Friday night, she met Kain at a cozy Italian restaurant tucked in a quiet part of town. He wore his navy blue shirt, the one that made his eyes darker, more intense.
"Is this a date?" she teased, sipping wine.
"Only if you kiss me at the end."
"Only?"
"Fine," he smirked. "A date with fringe benefits."
They didn't talk about work or the custody case. Just music, childhood dreams, random 'what-if' scenarios. It was like discovering someone new inside someone familiar. They made out like teenagers in the car before heading home.
---
On Sunday, they took Tami to the zoo.
Kain carried her on his shoulders, and Naya took photos like a tourist. Tami laughed at the penguins, cried at the sight of a lonely elephant, and held both their hands at the same time—like she was finally whole.
Later, back home, the three of them built a pillow fort in the living room. Naya lay between them, one arm over her daughter, the other wrapped around Kain.
"I could stay like this forever," she whispered.
"You can," Kain said. "You already are."