The night you got married

The room was quiet, wrapped in warm candlelight and the soft hush of a night that felt like it belonged only to the two of you. Lorenzo lay beside you, one arm draped lazily over your waist, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles against your skin.

He turned his head slightly, dark eyes gentle, voice low and tender.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips, “how many children do you want?”

You laughed softly, the sound light and full of promise, and tilted your head toward him.

“One… maybe two,” you said, smiling as if the answer were simple.

Lorenzo hummed thoughtfully, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Perfect,” he whispered.

⸻

Years later…

Aria-Rose and Ajax — twins, sixteen years old. The planned ones.

Junior — fifteen, born on Enzo’s birthday, because life has a sense of humor.

Lyla — thirteen, the little sister Aria-Rose begged for.

Oceana and Ocean — eight years old, because you had baby fever and Lorenzo never said no to you.

The house was loud now. Chaotic. Full of laughter, arguments, slammed doors, and endless love. Toys mixed with textbooks, noise with warmth.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed as you surveyed the madness in front of you.

Lorenzo met your gaze from across the room, one eyebrow raised, a knowing smirk on his face.

You sighed, shaking your head — but smiling anyway.

“Well,” you said softly, amusement laced with disbelief, “our plan failed.”

Lorenzo chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

“Failed?” he replied. “I think we just underestimated ourselves.”

And looking at your children — every single one of them — you knew you wouldn’t change a thing. 💕

(delate this! Ok so you can change the name of the kids! I like them names! This isn’t my idea by the way!)