London, Present Day
"Years went by and I really believed we were happy. Our parents seemed to have accepted that they wouldn't see us often and as long as we wrote occasionally, they didn't press too much."
My daughter is restless. She's fidgeting. It's as if she senses that we're coming to her part in the story.
"Four years?" she asks and I know she knows.
"Not quite. In the summer of 1992 we were happy. Gabriel was eight and in school. Even then it was clear he was intelligent. Luca was a cheeky little monster but no less clever."
I'm quiet for a second as I wonder how to continue. "There was only one thing missing. We both wanted a daughter. We'd always had a girl in mind. We'd had her name ready for her since our first pregnancy. And so, we tried for a baby. It was the first time we actually tried. It wasn't just a fluke or luck. We actively decided to have another child."
I chuckle as I recall, "we didn't have to try hard and before we knew it, we had you on the way."