Zephyra Point of view

I wasn't expecting a procession.

Okay, maybe I hoped for one — but I didn't expect it.

So you can imagine my emotional state when I stepped out of the car, one foot still swollen, and there were flower petals. Real ones. Not plastic. Not illusionary. Actual floral corpses sacrificed for my triumphant return.

"I feel like I died and came back a national hero," I muttered, blinking at the garlands looped over the front pillars of the house.

And Gosh, I love it.

I love the feeling so damn much.

This feeling of being worshiped and celebrated is so immensely and emotionally satisfying that I want to go into the house, make love with grrrgal again, get pregnant again and give birth to ten more next time.

Just so I could experience this feeling!

I feel like a Goddess! Yiyaa!

If someone handed me a throne right now, I'd sit on it with my swollen ankles crossed, and demand a crown made of cinnamon buns and gold. Preferably warm cinnamon buns, because postpartum cravings are sacred and deserve reverence.

"Welcome home, Zephyra," Kaiya said, throwing another handful of petals over my head like I was being summoned by the heavens.

I opened my arms and spun.

Okay, limped.

Okay, hobbled.

But spiritually, it was a divine spin.

Behind me, Grrrgal was trying to carry three babies at once and looked vaguely traumatized. He was the only person not treating this like a holy event. Rookie mistake.

"This is how I should enter every room from now on," I announced to no one and everyone. "With petals. Music. Possibly fog machines."

"You say that like we haven't already ordered one," Kaiya muttered.

Wait— what?

Eesh, how come I feel like I vibe with Kaiya more than I do with grrrgal?

Before I could ask for more details about this fog machine development and possibly a theme song, my foot touched the first step of the porch — and a chime sounded.

No, literally. A chime. Like wind bells on caffeine.

I turned. "What was that?"

"It's a sensor," Dad said proudly. "Every time you step on that threshold, it plays the 'victory' tone."

I clutched my chest. "You installed a victory tone for me?"

He nodded. "It felt right."

I was going to cry.

And then I stepped into the house. The inside was chaos, but the beautifully choreographed kind. The kind that screams: this family may be over-the-top, but we do it with style.

There were hanging flower garlands spelling out WELCOME HOME ZEPHY. There were glowing charm lanterns bobbing in the air — ones I recognize as my own enchantments, modified and doubled in power.

And then, like magic, a soft choir version of "You Are My Sunshine" started playing from nowhere.

"Who is playing my emotional song?!" I choked, clutching at the doorway like a Regency widow.

"That's me," Oreo said from behind a wall of balloons. He looked pretty proud of himself at the moment; and honestly, he should.

"Oreo," I whispered, trembling. "I will name the next baby after you." And I was genuine about it.

"No way. You still want to give birth? After eight?" Grrrgal gasped in surprise with a bit of fear in eyes.

"No way. You still want to give birth? After eight?" Grrrgal gasped in surprise with a bit of fear in his eyes.

I looked him dead in the soul, hand still dramatically perched on my chest.

"If it guarantees this level of welcome? I might just schedule it annually."

He blinked at me like I'd announced we were adopting a dragon. Maybe two.

Kaiya patted his back sympathetically. "You married her, bro."

We passed through the entrance, and every room was glowing — not just from charm-lights, but from something deeper. Something familial. The kind of warmth that doesn't come from spells or gold-thread tapestries or enchanted diapers.

This house... was home now.

And not just mine.

Ours.

A family.

The weirdest, most over-involved, sparkliest family in the hemisphere — and I am their undisputed queen.

God, post-delivery is making me emotional!

The petals were still tangled in my hair when I was led—no, escorted—to my bedroom like a convalescent queen being ferried to her royal chambers. The moment we entered, I gasped.

Because of the bed? No.

Because my very grumpy, very sexy, very emotionally constipated husband had turned the room into a sanctuary?

Absolutely yes.

"Whoa," I said, stunned. "Did you clean this room? And, wait—what is that smell? Is that... lavender? Did you aromatherapy me?"

Grrrgal didn't respond immediately. He just moved behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders, and guided me gently to sit on the bed that looked extra fluffy and suspiciously heaven-like.

"There's a hot water bottle under the pillow," he said simply. "For your back."

I blinked at him. "Who are you and what have you done with my emotionally unavailable battle demon?"

Still no response.

Then he knelt down in front of me and began unlacing my boots like I was some noble knight returning from war.

"I can do that," I muttered, but he raised an eyebrow.

"You gave birth to eight humans," he said. "You're not lifting a finger tonight."

...Okay, wow. That was hot.

Once the boots were off and my swollen feet were given the reverence they deserved and gently wiped with a wet cloth that smelled faintly of mint. Grrrgal helped me out of my outer layers with the careful patience of someone disarming a bomb made of hormones, stretch marks, and unspoken love.

"You're being suspiciously doting," I muttered as he helped me into a massive t-shirt that said "Mother of Stars" across the front.

"I'm being careful," he replied. "And soft."

"Soft Grrrgal is terrifying," I whispered.

But he didn't stop. He moved with that same quiet focus I'd seen him use while sparring or repairing delicate charm mechanisms—except now, it was being used on me.

On me.

He brought over a tray next, filled with actual food. Not soups. Not hospital mush. But crispy dumplings, rice with egg yolk drizzled in charm butter, sautéed greens, and a dessert that looked suspiciously like molten chocolate cake.

"I thought you hated feeding people," I said as I shoved a dumpling into my mouth with the grace of a very tired raccoon.

He shrugged. "I love feeding you."

I choked.

Not on the food—on the emotion.

"You can't say things like that while I'm digesting!" I cried dramatically, wiping at my eyes with one hand and stuffing cake in my mouth with the other. "Are you trying to kill me with feelings?"

Oh my ancestors! Why is he acting like this suddenly?

He has never acted so sweet like this to me before. I see no signs of body possession or magic on him.

So, it's him in real and he is being naturally loving with me?

"Well, since you're clearly suspicious..." he began, voice low and steady, his usual calm edged with something softer, more open, "I guess I owe you an explanation."

I swallowed the bite of cake, suddenly feeling small under the weight of his gaze. His eyes weren't just watching me—they were searching, vulnerable even. It threw me off balance, and for a moment, I forgot to be snarky.

Grrrgal took a slow breath, the kind that seems to steady a storm inside. "I didn't like you at first. Not really. You—" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "You were too much. Too superstitious, too chaotic. And me? I'm practical. Straightforward. We clashed from day one."

My heart tightened, but I kept listening.

"On top of that," he said quietly, "this whole thing—us—was mostly forced. Family pressure. Expectations. I didn't marry you because I loved you. I didn't even like you, if I'm honest."

Well, I know. At that time, it wasn't really love from my end as well. However, I didn't hate you as well.

"Then something strange happened." His voice softened further, like confessing a secret. "I started to feel something else. To like you—maybe even love you—while still feeling annoyed or confused by you. I never thought you could dislike and love someone at the same time, but you did it to me."

He looked at me, eyes full of an unspoken tenderness that caused an unprepared shiver from me.

He took a slow breath, gathering the courage to keep going. "I disliked you for many reasons in the beginning. You were loud, unpredictable, and you challenged everything I thought I knew. You made sure to cause trouble for me at every turn. Even my family—my own family—seemed to love you more than they loved me, and I couldn't help but feel jealous. But despite all that, something unexpected happened. Feelings sprouted quietly in my heart. They grew, slowly and stubbornly, without warning or permission. I never asked for it, but I found myself caring about you in ways I couldn't explain."

He looked down for a moment, then back up, eyes raw and honest. "Maybe it's not the love story either of us imagined. Maybe we have a unique story in the whole universe. Maybe the story was not unique but we are or maybe... no matter what, Zephyra, I did not like to see you in pain those eight days you were giving birth. I did not like to see you suffering. I did not like to see you helpless while you were in danger, fighting for your life and our babies lives." He paused.

"I'm grateful. I'm grateful for everything you have and haven't done for me. So, yeah," he added with a faint, wry smile, "I might still be an emotionally constipated battle demon sometimes. But this? This is me, trying. Loving you." He leaned in and pecked my forehead.

In that moment, everything between us felt undeniably true. And just like that, all my doubts melted away.

I smiled at him with a grateful grin of my own and was expecting him to continue with his love vows. But what did he say before he left the room?

"Still; our babies are going to be scientific."

And that flurry of warmth popped out just like that.

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

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