Finally, after years of grinding, you and Aaron had left the cramped, worn-out apartment in the city behind, moving into a house that promised a fresh start. The scent of new paint and unfinished wood lingered, too clean, too empty—like it was waiting for someone to truly make it home.

You lingered in the doorway, one hand resting lightly against the frame, the other instinctively over your growing belly. It had become second nature lately—protective, grounding, real.

“Careful,” Aaron murmured behind you, his voice gentle as he stepped around a half-unpacked box. “I’m supposed to carry things, remember?”

You let out a soft laugh, staying still, your gaze drifting to the street outside. They're still watching, the locals, from behind curtains and fences.

"They like to look, huh?" Aaron's voice tugged you back to the present. His hand found yours, warm and familiar, and smiled. “After we settle in, we’re supposed to meet Mrs. Ganreel, the previous owner of this house. Want to do that together?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back, letting the sense of home outweigh the slight tension in the air. With Aaron looking excited with the move, it felt unnecessary to add in worries.