The island had become a kingdom of secrets and soft lullabies.
Ten years had reshaped everything. The nursery had long since been converted into a full children's wing, filled with laughter, scattered toys, and the constant patter of small feet. Elias, now ten, was a miniature version of his father sharp-eyed, commanding, always leading his siblings on adventures along the beach. Seraphina, eight, was fierce and unyielding, with a fire that reminded me daily of the strength I had slowly found within myself. Aurora, six, was gentle and observant, often curling up in my lap with books. And little Theo, three, was the chaos that kept us all laughing.
I was pregnant again our fifth child my belly round and heavy as I walked slowly along the cliff path. The wind tugged at my hair, carrying
