(Oxford — Summer 2043)

  The sunlight that morning had a softness to it — not bright, not blinding, just warm. A steady warmth that made the garden feel like something living rather than something arranged.

  Julie sat on the back steps, hands wrapped around a mug of tea. The air was cool enough to feel fresh, warm enough to promise a gentle day. She heard Catherine singing somewhere near the hydrangeas, her voice drifting in and out as she danced a stuffed Magpie through the bushes.

  Julie smiled.

  She didn’t think she’d ever tire of that sound.

  Isaac pushed open the kitchen door behind her.

  He moved quieter these days — not because he was hesitant, but because the house no longer demanded urgency from him.

  “Morning,” she said without turning.

  He sat beside her and kissed her hair.

  “Morning.”

  Catherine spun into view, her curls catching the sun like a halo.

  “Mama! Daddy! Look!”

  She held up a handful of petals — pink, white, and pale blue — with the reverence of someone presenting treasure.

  “Beautiful,” Julie said.

  “They’re for the snow-crow,” Catherine explained.

  Julie blinked. “The snow-crow who melted in February?”

  “He still needs decorations,” Catherine insisted.

  Isaac nodded sagely. “Naturally.”

  Catherine ran off to gather more petals.

  Julie leaned into Isaac.

  “She’s growing fast.”

  “I know.”

  “And we’re not.”

  He chuckled. “Speak for yourself.”

  Julie nudged him. “You know what I mean.”

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  “I do.”

  A pause.

  She looked at her hands in her lap.

  Then up at him.

  “Isaac… I’ve been thinking.”

  He turned fully toward her.

  Julie didn’t speak in that tone unless the thought was steady, well-considered, and important.

  She took a breath and let it out slowly.

  “I think it’s time,” she said.

  “For Catherine to have a sibling.”

  Isaac went still.

  Not in shock — in the way a person pauses when a long-known truth arrives exactly when it should.

  “You’re sure?” he asked softly.

  Julie nodded.

  “The world is calmer. The UNSC is handling the load. The crisis years are behind us. And…”

  She hesitated, searching for the right words.

  “…and I don’t want Catherine to grow up alone.”

  He didn’t answer immediately.

  He reached for her hand instead, lacing his fingers through hers. She felt no tension in his grip — just warmth.

  “I thought about it too,” Isaac said quietly. “I just didn’t want to pressure you.”

  Julie’s eyes softened.

  “You never would.”

  “No,” he agreed. “But I’ve wanted another child for a while now. I just didn’t think we’d ever have the space.”

  Julie rested her head on his shoulder.

  “We have space now.”

  He exhaled, slow and steady.

  “We do.”

  They sat like that for a long moment, watching Catherine gather flower petals into the small pocket of her dress.

  She hummed as she worked, lost in her own world.

  Julie whispered:

  “We didn’t get this growing up.”

  “No,” Isaac said. “We didn’t.”

  “And she does.”

  “Yes.”

  Julie’s voice wavered with emotion she didn’t try to hide.

  “That feels like enough reason, doesn’t it?”

  Isaac kissed her temple.

  “Yes,” he said, “it does.”

  Later — A Call

  Howard answered the phone on the second ring.

  “Tell me you’re coming down sooner than expected,” he said without greeting.

  Isaac smiled.

  “We are.”

  “Good. Clementine is restless.”

  “That’s not why we're coming.”

  “Oh? Then why?”

  Julie leaned close to the phone.

  “Because Catherine might need to practice being a big sister.”

  There was silence.

  A long one.

  Then Howard said, with a tenderness Isaac rarely heard in his voice:

  “Well now. That’s damn good news.”

  Isaac laughed.

  “I thought you’d say that.”

  Howard cleared his throat in a way that meant emotion had snuck up on him.

  “When are you telling Catherine?”

  “Soon.”

  “Good,” Howard said. “She’ll be a natural.”

  Julie smiled. “We think so too.”

  Evening — The Three of Them

  The sun dipped low, turning the walls of the house golden.

  Catherine sat between them on the sofa, her head against Julie’s shoulder and her feet in Isaac’s lap. She traced her finger along the edge of her stuffed Magpie’s wing.

  “Mama?”

  “Yes, Maus?”

  “Are we going to the ranch again?”

  “Yes,” Julie said. “Soon.”

  “Good. Clementine misses me.”

  Isaac smoothed her hair back.

  “I’m sure she does.”

  Catherine yawned, then curled up more tightly between them.

  Julie looked at Isaac over their daughter’s head.

  Not dramatic.

  Not world-changing.

  Just a family settling into a life that finally made sense.

  The kind of life you don’t realize you wanted until it’s real.

  Later, after Catherine fell asleep and the house quieted again, Isaac stood at the back window and looked out at the garden — the small daffodil patch, the low fence, the quiet dark.

  Julie slipped her arms around him from behind.

  “Our family’s growing,” she whispered.

  Isaac covered her hands with his.

  “It is.”

  Julie rested her cheek against his back.

  “This is the life we fought for.”

  “It is,” he said softly.

  “And we get to keep it.”

  He turned, held her, and kissed her hair.

  “Yes,” he said. “We do.”