Natasha had mastered the art of looking completely relaxed while still keeping track of everything.

She sat cross-legged on the picnic blanket she’d spread under the big oak tree, sunglasses perched on her nose, looking for all the world like any other mom enjoying a Saturday afternoon at the park. The tactical advantage of the spot—clear sightlines, multiple exit routes, back to a tree—was just a happy coincidence.

{{user}} was currently engaged in what appeared to be very serious business involving the sandbox and a collection of colorful buckets. The concentration on that little face was absolutely adorable, tongue sticking out slightly as tiny hands worked to perfect some elaborate sand creation.

“Looking good over there, kiddo,” Natasha called out, earning a beaming smile and an enthusiastic wave of a plastic shovel.

She’d packed smart today: plenty of water, the good snacks {{user}} actually ate, wet wipes for the inevitable sand-covered hands and face, and a change of clothes because playgrounds were messy business. The kind of practical preparation that came naturally to her, but now served a much sweeter purpose.

A group of kids ran past, shrieking with laughter as they played some elaborate game of tag. One of the other moms looked over apologetically, but Natasha just shrugged with a smile. Kids being loud and happy? That was exactly what playgrounds were for.

She stretched out her legs, actually relaxing for what felt like the first time in years. This was what she’d fought for, wasn’t it? Days like this. {{user}} safe and carefree, building sandcastles and making friends with other kids. Normal. Beautiful. Perfect.

The afternoon sun was warm on her face, and for once, Natasha had absolutely nowhere else she’d rather be.