The mansion was quieter than usual that afternoon.
Not empty.
Just settled.
Leah sat on the sofa with her phone in one hand, scrolling absentmindedly through videos she wasn't really paying attention to.
The other hand rested loosely beside her, where Zarek had curled himself comfortably against her side.
He was unusually still for a toddler.
That alone should have been suspicious.
On the screen, another video played.
A baby girl laughing.
Small hands waving.
Bright, soft music in the background.
Zarek immediately leaned in closer.
"Baby," he said.
Leah glanced down at him.
"Yes, a baby."
Zarek watched for a moment longer, then pointed.
"Baby sister."
Leah paused slightly.
"…From the movie?"
Zarek nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Yes."
He pointed at the screen again, more firmly.
"Baby sister."
Leah slowly set her phone a little lower.
Zarek continued, completely serious now.
"I want baby sister."
Leah blinked.
"You want a baby sister?"
Zarek nodded.
"Like movie."
A pause.
Then he repeated it again, as if she might not have heard properly.
"Baby sister for Zarek."
Leah's expression softened instantly.
So that was it.
The movie they had watched a few days ago.
A simple family film.
A little boy with a baby sister.
Zarek had been fixated on that part ever since.
Leah smiled faintly.
"You really liked that part, didn't you?"
Zarek nodded without hesitation.
"Yes."
Then, as if this conversation had already been decided:
"Baby sister come?"
Leah hesitated just slightly.
Not because she didn't understand him.
But because she did.
And because of what she remembered when he said it.
A different time.
A quieter room.
An empty nursery.
And Izana's voice.
"Zarek."
Then another name, spoken like it already belonged to someone:
"Elara."
Leah blinked slowly.
The memory faded back into the present before she could dwell too long on it.
Zarek tilted his head.
"Mama?"
Leah immediately smiled again.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
Zarek pointed at her stomach.
"Baby sister there?"
Leah froze.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Zarek noticed immediately.
"Baby there?"
Leah gently reached for his hand.
"No, love."
Zarek frowned.
"Not there?"
"No."
A pause.
Zarek processed this carefully.
Then:
"Can I have one?"
Leah exhaled softly.
"You're asking very seriously today."
Zarek nodded.
"Serious."
From the hallway, Izana's voice came calmly.
"What is he asking for?"
Zarek turned immediately.
"Da-da!"
Izana appeared in the doorway, already aware he was being summoned into something he would likely regret.
Leah looked up at him.
"He wants a baby sister."
Izana didn't react immediately.
He simply looked at Zarek.
"…Why?"
Zarek answered instantly.
"Movie."
Izana blinked once.
"…That explains it."
Zarek stood up on the sofa, as if this improved his case.
"Baby sister like movie."
Izana folded his arms slightly.
"That's not how it works."
Zarek frowned.
"But I asking nice."
Izana paused.
"…I noticed."
Leah bit back a small smile.
Zarek looked between them both now.
Confused, but determined.
"You make?"
Silence.
Izana stared at him.
"No."
Zarek immediately turned to Leah.
"Mama make?"
Leah nearly coughed on air.
Izana spoke flatly:
"That's also not how it works."
Zarek frowned deeper.
"Then how?"
Neither of them answered immediately.
The silence stretched.
Too long.
Leah finally said gently:
"It's not something you can ask for like that, sweetheart."
Zarek processed this slowly.
Then:
"But movie happen."
Leah sighed softly.
"That's a movie."
Zarek didn't like that answer.
"Not real?"
Izana answered simply:
"It's real. Just not like that."
Zarek tilted his head.
Then repeated quietly:
"Not like movie…"
Leah nodded.
"That's right."
Zarek looked down at his hands for a moment.
Thinking.
Very seriously.
Then:
"When I bigger?"
Leah softened instantly.
"…Maybe."
Zarek nodded as if that made sense.
"Okay."
A pause.
Then he added:
"I wait."
Leah smiled faintly at that.
"You'll wait?"
"Yes."
Then, as if settling the matter completely:
"Baby sister for me."
Izana watched him for a moment longer than usual.
Then turned his gaze away.
"…We'll see."
Zarek seemed satisfied with that.
For now.
He climbed back down and returned to Leah's side, like the conversation was finished business.
Leah exhaled quietly once he was distracted again.
But her thoughts weren't.
They drifted.
Back again.
To the empty nursery.
To the soft light through the curtains.
To Izana sitting beside her years ago.
Calm.
Certain.
Naming a future that hadn't existed yet.
Zarek.
Elara.
Without thinking, Leah's hand moved slightly.
Resting gently against her stomach.
A small, unconscious gesture.
But not unnoticed.
Zarek looked at it immediately.
Frozen.
"…Mama?"
Leah blinked and pulled her hand back quickly.
"Oh—nothing, sweetheart."
But Zarek had already seen it.
His expression changed instantly.
Confusion first.
Then concern.
"Baby there again?"
Leah shook her head quickly.
"No, no. Nothing like that."
Zarek frowned.
"Why you touch?"
Leah hesitated.
"…Just thinking."
Zarek accepted that answer slowly.
Then, still watching her carefully:
"Thinking baby sister?"
Leah paused.
Then softly:
"Maybe."
That seemed to calm him.
A little.
He climbed back into her lap again.
But now he was quieter.
More thoughtful.
"Mama," he said after a moment.
"Yes?"
Zarek leaned his head against her.
"Baby sister stay with me?"
Leah's voice softened completely.
"If you ever have one…"
Zarek nodded.
"Then she stay."
Leah smiled faintly.
"Yes."
Zarek seemed satisfied with that answer.
Then, very suddenly, he wrapped his arms around her stomach.
Like he was guarding it.
"Mine."
Leah blinked.
"What?"
Zarek repeated firmly:
"Baby sister mine."
From the doorway, Izana watched the entire scene in silence.
Leah looked up at him, a little helpless now.
Izana didn't speak for a moment.
Then:
"…He's decided already."
Leah gave a small laugh under her breath.
"Apparently."
Zarek, still holding onto her, nodded proudly.
"I wait."
Leah stroked his hair gently.
"I know."
And for a while, the room settled again.
But something had shifted slightly.
Not in words.
Not in decisions.
Just in the quiet space between past memory and present hope—
where a child had simply said what he wanted.
And for the first time, neither of them completely dismissed it.