If someone had told Lyra that preparing for a "simple" day out would feel like preparing for war, she wouldn't have believed them. But here she was — forty-five minutes behind schedule, holding an overstuffed diaper bag, and chasing a giggling one-year-old around the living room while Zane tried to locate his other shoe.
"Why is it always your shoe that disappears?" she asked, out of breath as Eliana squealed and ducked under the table.
"It's not my fault she thinks it's a toy!" Zane called from the hallway. "She probably put it in the fridge again."
Lyra groaned but couldn't help smiling.
Eventually, after a chaotic game of peekaboo and a trail of crushed cereal puffs, the three of them made it into the car. Zane drove, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching back occasionally to hand Eliana her stuffed bunny, which she kept throwing down for the drama of it.
"Do you think she knows she's being dramatic?" he asked.
Lyra laughed. "She's your daughter. What do you think?"
They arrived at the city park just after noon. It was warm, sunny, and crowded — the kind of day where kids ran barefoot through the grass and vendors sold overpriced lemonade. Eliana wore her floppy sunhat, which she immediately yanked off and threw at a passing squirrel.
Lyra picked it up with a sigh. "She's going to start a turf war with the wildlife one day."
Zane lifted Eliana into the air, spinning her once to make her laugh. "She's fearless. I respect that."
They found a quiet spot under a tree and laid out their picnic blanket. Eliana sat between them, playing with her sippy cup like it was a treasure chest. Lyra unwrapped the sandwiches she packed while Zane pulled out juice boxes and tried to pretend they weren't all slightly squished.
"Parenting is just adapting your standards daily," Lyra said, biting into a mildly flattened sandwich.
Zane raised his juice box. "To low expectations."
They clinked boxes and laughed.
A little while later, Zane took Eliana to the nearby toddler swings while Lyra leaned back on the blanket, watching them from afar. She snapped a picture as Zane gently pushed their daughter, both of them grinning in the sunlight.
She opened the photo and stared at it — heart full, eyes soft. This was the kind of moment she never imagined she'd get. Not after how things started. But somehow, here they were.
Her family.
Whole. Messy. Beautiful.
Zane returned with Eliana a few minutes later, cheeks flushed from giggling, her hair sticking up in every direction.
"She demanded five more pushes," he said, out of breath. "I negotiated her down to two."
"Good luck when she's sixteen."
Zane flopped onto the blanket beside her, Eliana nestled between them. She gnawed on a teething ring like it was her greatest enemy.
They lay there for a long time, the three of them, beneath the swaying branches.
Zane reached for Lyra's hand and whispered, "Do you think this is what forever looks like?"
Lyra didn't answer right away. She looked at her daughter, wild-haired and happy, and at the man who chose them every day — not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
She squeezed his hand. "Yeah. I think this is it."
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Zane reached into the cooler bag and pulled out a container of strawberries. "Snack time?" he asked, holding one up like a peace offering.
Eliana made a delighted squeal and tried to grab the entire container. Lyra laughed and intercepted her tiny hands. "One at a time, baby girl. You're not a vacuum."
"She disagrees," Zane said, popping one into her mouth anyway.
They sat there, passing bites of fruit back and forth, watching the clouds shift above them.
"I always imagined having a little boy," Lyra said suddenly.
Zane looked over. "Really?"
She nodded. "I don't know. Maybe because I thought I'd mess up a daughter. I was scared I'd pass on my fears. My overthinking. My trust issues."
Zane reached for her hand. "But instead, you passed on your stubbornness. Her fire. Her curiosity. All the best parts of you."
Lyra turned her head toward him, eyes soft. "She's also obsessed with carbs, so maybe that's from you."
Zane shrugged proudly. "I won't deny it."
Eliana suddenly leaned forward and grabbed an entire strawberry with both hands, smashing it against her shirt. Red juice spread like war paint across her dress.
"Oh no," Lyra groaned.
Zane laughed. "It's abstract art. Let her create."
"You're on laundry duty tonight."
"Worth it."
Lyra pulled out a wipe and gently cleaned Eliana's cheeks. "She's going to be fearless, you know?"
"I hope so."
"She already is," Lyra said. "And it's terrifying sometimes. But… it also makes me feel like we did something right."
Zane leaned back on one elbow and looked at both of them. "We did a lot of things wrong, Lyra. But loving her? That part — we got that exactly right."
The moment settled between them like a blanket. Warm. Safe. Honest.
They packed up just before sunset, Eliana now tired and sticky, slumped against Zane's chest as he carried her back to the car. Lyra folded the blanket, tucked the last juice box into the bag, and turned to look at them.
Her two people.
Her quiet little miracle.
She didn't know what the future would look like — whether it meant more kids, a wedding, a big move — but today? It was enough.