Bette woke to the soft sound of Angelica’s gentle cooing. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, the dim morning light filtering through the blinds. She winced as she shifted her weight, feeling the familiar soreness in her arm from the previous day’s encounter with the poachers. The wound was still tender, but thankfully nothing too serious. She could feel the dull ache as she stretched, her muscles stiff from the strain of the day before. The familiar, comforting noise of Angelica’s little sounds coaxed her out of bed despite the discomfort.

Bette glanced over at Tina, who was still sound asleep beside her. Quietly, she slipped out of bed, threw on a tank top and boy shorts before padding softly across the room, careful not to disturb her wife. The house was still, save for the distant rustling of the trees outside and the soft, rhythmic hum of ceiling fans overhead.

As Bette approached Angelica’s crib in the nursery, she smiled at the sight of her little girl, awake and already wriggling around. Her big eyes were full of curiosity, and her small hands reached up toward Bette. ”Good morning, sweet girl,” Bette whispered softly, her voice warm with affection.

Angelica let out a small giggle, and Bette gently picked her up, cradling her in her arms. The baby’s soft head, still warm from sleep wrapped around her, and she couldn’t help but smile. As she carried her to the changing table, she felt a pang of tenderness and a little sadness. There was so much she had yet to share with Angelica, so much she wanted to give her, but for now, this quiet morning routine felt like the heart of everything.

Bette laid Angelica down on the changing table, carefully unbuttoning her onesie to change her nappy. As she worked, she couldn’t help but think of the things she had been pushing aside, the conversations she hadn’t yet had with Tina; the things she’d been avoiding. The ache in her arm was nothing compared to the weight of her own thoughts.

Once Angelica was clean and dressed, Bette scooped her up once again, cradling her in her arms as they made their way to the kitchen where she reached for a prepared bottle of breast milk, her movements automatic as she warmed it, trying to push the rest of the world out of her mind. The bottle was ready in no time, and they settled into a chair. Angelica nestled against her chest, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of Bette’s shirt as she suckled contentedly.