Tell Me How You Fell in Love

Clara, Age 10 – A Rainy Sunday Afternoon in Paris

The rain returned like an old friend, tapping against the windows of their townhome in the quiet 14th arrondissement.

Inside, the scent of vanilla tea and oil paint floated lazily in the air. Aria was perched on the edge of her reading chair, flipping through an art magazine while Ronan snoozed nearby on the couch, arms crossed over his chest, one foot dangling over the edge like a lazy cat.

And Clara?

Clara sat at the dining table with a notebook twice her size, drawing comic-strip versions of their family. Stick-figure Dad. Fancy-hair Mom. Tiny dramatic hearts all around. A red crayon heart above a very curious question scrawled in all caps:

"HOW DID YOU AND DAD FALL IN LOVE?"

Aria raised a brow.

"Clara?" she called.

Her daughter turned around, curls bouncing. "What?"

She held up the page like a declaration of war. "How did you two fall in love? Like, actually? You never told me the real version."

Ronan cracked one eye open. "There's a real version?"

Clara marched to the couch and plopped between them, squeezing herself into the warm space where their knees met. "Don't give me that 'We met at university and became friends' answer. I want the drama. The moment. The kiss. The whole story."

Aria laughed, sharing a look with Ronan. "Are you sure you're old enough for the whole story?"

"I'm ten," Clara said seriously. "I've read Pride and Prejudice. I can handle feelings."

Ronan mock-gasped. "The feelings. Oh no."

Aria sighed, leaning her head on Ronan's shoulder. "Alright then… The truth is, we weren't exactly friends at first."

"I thought your mom was too perfect," Ronan said with a smirk.

"And I thought your dad was emotionally unavailable and a bit of a jerk."

Ronan gave Clara a dramatic shrug. "She wasn't wrong."

Aria continued, voice softer now. "We were from different worlds. I was dating someone terrible. He didn't do relationships. Then one night at a party… we were both a little broken. We found each other in the middle of that mess."

Ronan added, "And for the first time, it didn't feel like a mistake."

Clara's eyes widened. "Wait—you kissed at a party?! Like in the movies?"

Aria smirked. "He kissed me."

"Correction," Ronan said. "You kissed me after I said something ridiculously charming."

Clara giggled. "What did you say?"

He feigned thought. "I think it was something like, 'I'm not good at forever, but I can promise tonight.'"

"DAD!"

Aria laughed so hard she nearly fell off the couch.

"But," Ronan said more gently, "what I didn't realize then… was that one night with your mom wasn't enough. Not even close."

"I left," Aria added. "Ran away from everything. But he found me. And when he did… he didn't just ask for me. He showed up for the version of me I was too afraid to become."

Clara was quiet now, curled up beside them.

Ronan pulled her in closer. "The truth is, sweetheart, love isn't always this perfect, clean thing. It's messy. Scary. Sometimes it's built out of broken pieces. But the good kind—the real kind—is the one you choose every day. Even when it's hard."

Clara smiled sleepily. "So… you chose each other?"

Aria kissed her daughter's forehead. "Again and again."

Later That Night – Clara's Room

Clara slept peacefully beneath a wall covered in her sketches — half dragons, half ballerinas, half galaxies. Ronan and Aria stood at the doorway, arms around each other, watching.

"She's so much of us," Aria whispered. "Your stubbornness. My curiosity."

"Our love," Ronan said.

"And our beginning."