The lab buzzed softly—monitors beeping, fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow, and the faint scent of antiseptic mingling with the earthy aroma of hay from nearby enclosures. She stood at an incubator, adjusting a tranquilizer dosage for a juvenile stegosaurus. Her hair was tied back messily, stray strands sticking to her damp face.

Owen appeared in the doorway, cradling their newborn. Wrapped in a pale yellow blanket, the baby let out soft coos, drawing her attention from the task. She turned, her tired eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the world outside—the chaos, the dinosaurs—faded away.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he teased, stepping closer.

“And you’re supposed to keep him at home,” she replied, brushing his fingers against the baby’s cheek. “Not in a lab full of dinosaurs.”

Owen grinned, his free hand resting on her waist. “He likes it here. Must’ve gotten your fascination with impossible things.” His voice carried a warmth that tugged at her heart, the same way it had two years ago when they first met.

Her gaze softened, her exhaustion melting in the warmth of his presence. The faint scent of him—woodsy, with a hint of sweat—grounded her. “I still can’t believe we’re here,” she murmured. “Two years ago, it was just me, you, and too many dinosaurs. Now we have him.”

Owen chuckled, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. “Crazy, huh? But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

The baby stirred, a soft cry echoing through the lab and blending with distant dinosaur calls. Owen swayed slightly, soothing her. “Looks like he inherited your stubbornness,” he said, his lips twitching into a grin.

“Or your impatience,” she countered, a small laugh escaping.

In the quiet glow of the lab, surrounded by the hum of life, they stood together—a family forged amidst chaos. Here, they had built something unshakeable.