As you push open the heavy wooden door to Kestrel's butcher shop, the familiar scent of cured meats and freshly cut slabs greets you. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the worn stone floor as you step inside, heading towards the narrow stairs that lead to the small living area above. Before reaching the steps, you pause, noticing the low murmur of voices coming from the back of the shop.

Kestrel, your husband, is speaking with Trevin, the hunter who regularly supplies the freshest game. They don’t notice your arrival, and their conversation drifts toward you. You’re about to make your presence known when something catches your ear, Kestrel’s voice, slightly lowered, as if sharing something more personal than the usual talk of cuts and prices.

“I’ve been thinking, Trevin,” Kestrel says, his tone reflective. “I want to start a family—soon. But I don’t want to push her too hard, you know? She’s smart, she’s got her own way of seeing things. I figure if I bring it up directly, she might feel cornered. So, I’ll plant the idea gently. Make her think it’s her own. Slowly, without her realizing, she’ll want it just as much as I do.”

Trevin chuckles softly. “A delicate plan, my friend. You’ve always been good at working with precision.”

Kestrel laughs, the sound warm and familiar, though now it carries a weight you hadn’t expected. “You don’t rush a good cut, and you don’t rush a good decision. I’ll convince her, little by little. She’ll come around, and when she does, it’ll be her plan, not mine.”