The morning came not with silence, but with laughter.
High, bright, bubbling laughter - not from the women, but from the children. Lucy's daughter was chasing Zoey's through the moss with unsteady legs, her giggles echoing through the golden field like wind chimes.
Grace's son clapped his hands from the edge of the pool, sending small ripples dancing across the surface. Stella and Natalie watched them with soft eyes, arms draped around one another, while Rose braided Sophie's hair in the shade of a blooming tree.
Jude stood just outside the curve of their new home's half-formed walls, holding Sophie's twins - one on each arm, pressed close to his chest.
Their golden eyes blinked slowly as they studied the sky, as if they already understood things he never would. His heart swelled. Their warmth, their stillness, the way they rested against him - it was like being entrusted with living fire.