Spring arrived early that year. The snow melted fast, revealing soft grass beneath the pines and crooked stone paths long buried in white. The windows of the Blake estate no longer wept frost. Instead, they opened. The house began to breathe again.
So did Maya. Each morning, sunlight spilled into the nursery like a promise. Lily woke happier, louder, more curious. Her giggles bounced off the walls. She’d begun walking—half steps, uncertain but determined, always toward Maya.
Nathaniel started coming home earlier, sometimes with paper bags full of groceries or forgotten hardware for the crib. He wasn’t the same man who’d once shouted across the living room like Maya was an intruder. That man had vanished somewhere between late-night lullabies and shared silence.
One Thursday afternoon, Maya stood at the laundry line in the garden, pinning up Lily’s tiny sweaters. The air smelled of soil and daffodils. A radio played faintly from the kitchen—Motown, the kind Rosa liked. Maya swayed slightly as she worked, humming along, the clothes fluttering like little flags.
«Maya,» Nathaniel’s voice called from behind her.
She turned, squinting against the sun. «I need your eyes on something.»
He stood on the back patio, barefoot, sleeves rolled to his elbows, holding a tablet in one hand and a bottle of juice in the other.
«Juice for the boss,» he added, holding it up.
She laughed. «Lily or me?»
«You. Lily already bit me once today. I’ve learned my lesson.»
Maya followed him inside to the study. On the desk, a mock-up of the app’s new home screen was open. He angled it toward her.
«We’re thinking of highlighting real stories—anonymous, of course. Mothers, caretakers, people who got through it.»
Maya studied it. «Is there a way to let them leave voice notes?»
He looked surprised. «Why?»
«Because sometimes it’s easier to speak than write. Especially if you’re crying.»
He stared at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. «I’ll have the dev team work on that.»
They sat together on the leather couch while Lily crawled around them on the carpet, babbling to a stuffed giraffe. Maya sipped her juice, barefoot, legs curled beneath her.
«Do you ever think,» Nathaniel began, «that we stumbled into this?»
«This?»
«Us. Her. The app. All of it.»
«I think the world gave us a second chance,» Maya said. «The first one we both wasted.»
He tilted his head. «How’d you waste yours?»
«I stopped believing in people.»
Nathaniel’s voice dropped. «Me too.»
A pause.
«But you didn’t stop believing in her,» she said, nodding to Lily.
He looked at the child on the floor. «I just didn’t know how to show it.»
«You do now,» she said.
He turned back to Maya. «Because of you.»
Maya looked down into her cup. «You say things like that, then I have to go back to my room and remember how to breathe.»
«I’m working on that part too,» he said with a soft smile. «Making sure you don’t have to go back to your room alone.»
She blinked. «I mean,» he added quickly, «not the way that sounded. I mean, you don’t have to retreat when you feel something—not from me.»
Maya said nothing. But her hand, resting near his on the couch, drifted a fraction closer. Close enough that their fingers nearly touched.
Later that evening, Maya walked Lily around the garden in a sling while the baby hummed nonsense against her shoulder. The air was cool, gentle. In the distance, the wind danced through the pines.
Mrs. Delaney watched from the porch, arms crossed loosely. When Maya approached, she nodded toward the house.
«I saw the mockups. Nathaniel showed me.»
«Oh?» Maya asked, shifting Lily’s weight.
«They’re good. Real.»
«I’ve seen a lot of projects start in that study,» Mrs. Delaney said. «None of them ever felt this human.»
Maya smiled. «He’s different now.»
Mrs. Delaney snorted. «He’s in love.»
Maya nearly tripped. «What?»
«Oh, don’t play dumb. I’ve worked in this house long enough to know the look.»
«I don’t know what you’re talking about,» Maya said quickly.
«Then let me put it this way,» Mrs. Delaney said. «He only uses the good coffee mugs when you’re in the room. You don’t waste ceramic that costs seventy dollars a piece unless you’re trying to impress someone.»
Maya opened her mouth, closed it, and shook her head. «I’m just… trying to do right by Lily.»
«Of course,» the older woman said. «But don’t pretend love’s not blooming around here faster than the flowers.»
That night, after dinner, Nathaniel walked Maya to her room. Lily had already fallen asleep in her crib. The hallway was quiet, lit only by the amber glow of the wall sconces. They paused at her door.
«I’m flying to New York next week,» he said. «Meeting investors. They want updates on the app.»
Maya nodded. «Will you be gone long?»
«Three days. Lily won’t like that.»
«I won’t either,» he said.
Then, after a pause, «Would you come with us?»
Maya blinked. «What?»
«Just for the trip. You’d be in the meetings, as the voice of the users. And with Lily, of course.»
«I don’t have a suit,» she said automatically.
«I’ll buy you one.»
«I don’t have experience.»
«You’ve lived the experience.»
She hesitated. «That’s a lot of change.»
He nodded. «It is. But not all change is loss, Maya.»
She looked at him. Really looked. The man who once shouted at her for daring to touch what he loved now stood before her, asking her to carry it forward with him.
«I’ll think about it,» she said.
He leaned slightly forward—not too close, just enough. «I’ll wait.»
And with that, he turned and walked down the hall. Maya stepped into her room, shut the door, and stood in the silence. Her heart was pounding. But for the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid of what came next.
The private jet hummed gently beneath them, like a lullaby wrapped in steel. Maya sat across from Nathaniel in the cream leather cabin, the soft overhead lighting casting a warm glow. Lily was curled up in Maya’s lap, thumb tucked in her mouth, her curls haloed by a tiny travel pillow shaped like a giraffe.
Nathaniel hadn’t said much since takeoff. He kept glancing over, watching Maya as she stroked Lily’s back, calm and steady, like she’d done it for years. There was something in the way Maya existed—with quiet command, not needing permission to be tender.
«You okay?» he finally asked.
She nodded. «Just… taking it all in.»
«Your first time flying?»
She gave a soft laugh. «First time flying private. First time flying with a billionaire. First time flying anywhere I wasn’t escaping from something.»
Nathaniel studied her. «This time, you’re heading toward something.»
Maya didn’t reply. She just looked down at Lily and kissed the top of her head.
In New York, the hotel suite was nothing short of absurd—glass walls, a piano no one played, a kitchen larger than most apartments. Maya stood frozen in the center of it, Lily now awake in her arms, looking just as stunned.
«I don’t know what to touch,» Maya whispered.
Nathaniel chuckled. «That’s okay. Everything here’s insured.»
Lily pointed to the piano. «Wawa?»
«She thinks every piano is a water fountain,» Maya said. «The keys look like tiles.»
Nathaniel knelt beside them. «Let’s teach her the difference then.»
He lifted Lily onto the piano bench, sat her in his lap, and began playing a soft melody—halting, unsure. Maya stepped back and watched the two of them, the way Lily leaned against his chest, how his eyes never left her face. The song wasn’t perfect, but the moment was.
Later that night, after Lily had fallen asleep in the crib set up in the master bedroom, Maya stepped onto the balcony. The city below blinked and buzzed, a living ocean of movement. She hugged her cardigan tighter around her.
Nathaniel joined her quietly, two glasses of tea in hand.
«I thought you didn’t drink,» she said.
«Still don’t. It’s chamomile.» He handed her a glass.
They stood in silence for a few moments, watching headlights snake through the streets.
«Did I tell you why I started the app?» he asked suddenly.
Maya shook her head.
«My wife—Lily’s mom—was diagnosed late. Very late. She’d been depressed for over a year, but we didn’t see it. I was too busy flying around, making money. Thought I was doing it for them.»
Maya stayed quiet, letting him speak.
«She left us one morning. Walked out before sunrise and never came back. They found her body two days later, near a lake.»
He sipped his tea. «I kept thinking, if we’d had something like this, something anonymous where she could’ve spoken without shame, maybe she’d still be here.»
«I’m sorry,» Maya said.
«She was kind. Kind in a way that scared people, because when someone sees you that deeply, you either open up or run.» He turned to her. «You remind me of her. Not in appearance, in heart.»
Maya’s breath caught.