Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Eight years before A Lily For Tora

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“Sweetheart—?” 

Poppy blinked, her eyelids far too heavy and slow for it only being midmorning. Or was it almost afternoon already? The high pitched whine that’d been drilling into her back molars ever since she woke up that day made it hard to remember.

She tried to tune into her husband of almost four years standing behind her, but the rest of Tora’s quiet, worried question didn’t register beyond that first word. The warm, husky voice that usually turned Poppy’s insides to perfectly melted butter dissolved into nothing but meaningless noise. As if he was standing safely on shore while she silently floundered beneath the merciless waves, her air starved lungs filling with cold, brackish water.

Some distant part of Poppy tutted at her inability to focus and her utter lack of response, noting Tora had definitely asked the same thing more than once now. But that was as far as her awareness went, the only bit that actually got through those initial two syllables.

Sweetheart. Sweet…heart. His first nickname for her, back when they were nothing more than two strangers who'd somehow spun into each other’s orbit multiple times in a single day. A few minutes in either direction and Poppy might have gone her whole life without ever hearing it. Or at least, not from Tora.

If he’d left Narin City later or just not at all, driven slower, taken a different route home…If she’d stomped off on foot the whole way to the train station, didn’t crash her scooter, never climbed that tree…Who knew how things might have gone, where they would’ve ended up without each other?

Sweetheart. It normally brushed over Poppy soft and oh so sweet, a tender caress reserved for her alone. Her husband with his godlike, smoldering looks could have chosen anyone, but he’d inexplicably fallen for her short squishy self before even a single word passed between them. She'd had twigs and leaves in her hair, for cripe sake, one knee bruised and bloody, her eyes puffy and red from crying.

But Tora’s nickname for Poppy going on 6+ years now sounded…dissonant and foreign, like he was addressing a stranger, the tinny ringing in her ears lending it an uncharacteristically sour note. Sweetheart was for someone whose insides weren’t hollowed out and scraped raw from choking on weeks of salt laden grief.

Weeks….God, had it really been a whole month already? Poppy couldn’t bring herself to even glance at the colorful, cheery wall calendar still turned to June.

The cartoon hamster filled thing had been a cheeky Christmas gift from Tora the previous year, their last before they became a family of three. The extra wide margins were meant to record all the joyful and exciting firsts they’d experienced since their baby girl arrived unexpectedly early one week before Tora’s birthday on a raucously stormy night. 

The ensuing twelve weeks of closely tracked and carefully noted newborn milestones had made two things abundantly clear to Poppy.

One, that despite bringing up having children in the first place and literally carrying Lily for almost nine months, Poppy had yet to see any signs of the supposedly innate maternal instinct everyone and their cousin constantly hyped up. She was not the parent who'd bonded with their baby practically overnight, and still had no freakin’ clue what she was doing the vast majority of the time. The stacks of parenting books and all the cute mommy blogs she'd studiously read for the better part of a year had done little to prepare her for the messy, perpetually exhausting, puke filled reality that was life with a fussy, demanding infant.

And two, her husband, for all his pedantic ways, had a very broad and loose definition of what counted as “exciting” and "memorable" when it came to the daughter he could so effortlessly soothe in a matter of minutes. Being the overly responsible dad friend for so many years had apparently set him up to step into actual fatherhood with little to no trouble at all.

But at the very least, Poppy’s many years of fastidiously journaling important life events had come in handy. Since March 23rd, she’d dutifully noted moments such as:

Lily’s first bath. Not a big fan of being in the water.

Lily’s first smile at Mommy. Pretty sure she’s got Daddy’s dimples too.

Lily laughed when Daddy made a silly face.

Lily rolled over onto her tummy and held her head up all by herself when Daddy came home.

Tora meanwhile had felt the need to memorialize such…eventful occasions as:

Lily’s first blowout.

Lily’s first time multitasking - barfed and pooped at the exact same time.

Lily discovered Daddy’s hair is very entertaining to grab and not let go of. If I'm bald by the time you're in kindergarten, that's on you, kid.

Lily said “dada.” Nice try there, tiger dad, but “baabaabaaa” doesn’t count.

Even Quincey and Goliath had not so sneakily joined in, a few entries from both uncles scattered among Tora’s scribbly chicken scratch and Poppy’s far more tidy handwriting:

Your evil little vomit gremlin puked INSIDE my shirt! That’s TWO shirts you owe me now!

Let the record show, my favorite niece clearly inherited my refined tastes and prefers high thread count fabrics.

Lil Shit hocked a loogie directly into my mouth! I KNOW you put her up to this somehow!

First conversation, admittedly a bit one sided, about the importance of coming to her favorite uncle for any and all future fashion and dating advice.

There were no notes from either of the great-grandmothers, but not because they didn’t care. Lily’s every little hiccup and weird poop had been followed with much interest from afar via regular phone calls and video chats. Alice and Granny had been a wealth of knowledge from their many decades of raising more than one generation to adulthood, their advice sometimes a little too freely given. They’d swiftly arrived after Lily’s sudden birth to cook and clean and fuss over the golden eyed newborn and her sleep deprived parents for the better part of two weeks, but neither had been back since. 

Tora and Poppy were both admittedly on the paranoid and overprotective side, but they hadn’t limited the grandmothers from visiting simply to prevent Lily from picking up a respiratory virus or having her hard won sleep schedule thrown off. Quincey and Goliath could easily justify a trip to such an out of the way part of the country, already well known for jaunting off to seemingly random places on a whim. But everyone had agreed it was for the best that Granny and Alice not travel to Olzii too often just yet. There’d been plans for another long visit around Lily’s six month check-up in October, the gorgeous fall colors in the area a good cover for an extended holiday.

But that had all been before. Before another heartbreaking after marked Poppy’s heart as permanently as the long, ugly scar carved above her husband’s right hip. 

Charting their daughter’s daily growth and bemusedly rolling her eyes at what Tora and his brothers considered an “achievement” had been before.

Reminding her well meaning grandmother for the umpteenth time that childcare guidelines had changed more than a little since Poppy was a baby, and no, picking up Lily whenever she cried wouldn’t spoil her, and yes, car seats had expiration dates now for good reason…that had been before.

Sweetheart was for before. For the Poppy who wasn’t empty and numb and achingly aware of all the many words she’d left unsaid.

All the gratitude unexpressed. The snappy retorts bitten back. Important but emotionally fraught discussions she’d been too chickenshit to start. Conversations she desperately wished she’d had, but even more so…ones she should’ve ended before they stuck like a burr in her heart. 

And then there were the questions. So many questions she’d never get answers to now. Poppy could hardly swallow for the towering pile of them, a whole library clogging the back of her throat. Moldering and black with rot, their bone dry pages had disintegrated into so much ash and dust on her tongue. Just like the family stories forever lost to her now.

How could she be a good mom to Lily if she didn’t know where her own mother had failed?

Not saddling her baby girl with a weird name she’d have to constantly spell out and explain for the rest of her life was easy enough. But beyond that, the vague euphemisms and wandering anecdotes that never quite got to the point from Granny hadn't ever been nearly enough. Poppy wanted details, a list of all the things she would make sure not to be for her own daughter. Because the older she got, the more she discovered how much of a massive, gaping hole her mother's abrupt departure left behind.

That was another unfortunate experience she and her husband shared in common - dead fathers and absent, unavailable mothers, a scarcity of positive parental role models in both their lives, what little time they’d gotten cut much too short. Tora’s father had died so much earlier than hers, Poppy getting a whole extra decade to actually make memories with her dad, but their mothers had both…checked out.

At least his mother had been there, even if a broken heart and a rough lot in life stole away her ability to parent two young children all on her own, Tora and Goliath ultimately taken from her. Poppy’s mom didn’t have that excuse - she’d chosen to walk away from her widowed mother, her still living husband, and a child desperately begging her to stay.

Sweetheart. A harsh, bitter laugh welled up from somewhere dark and altogether unkind for the briefest of moments, dying before it came anywhere close to reaching Poppy’s throat. Sweet was the last thing her heart felt just then.

Poppy only realized her husband had fallen silent when the unrelenting ringing inside her ears migrated further out into her jaw. The grating, shrill whine only grew more insistent as it spread, like an annoying insect buzzing around her head she couldn’t catch. But where Tora's repeated questions failed to register, Poppy couldn't ignore the heavy weight of his gaze. It prodded the back of her head, wordlessly begging her to turn and answer him. They’d been together long enough now, she didn’t even have to look to know his gold eyes would be tight with worry at her lethargic unresponsiveness.

Words normally flowed so effortlessly between them, even the hard ones they kept locked away from everyone else slipping out without much thought. Letting her guard down and talking freely to her empathetic husband was usually easy. So easy in fact that Poppy often found her mouth outpacing her thoughts more than she'd like. Which wasn't always a bad thing, but their loudest and least productive arguments always stemmed from out of control emotions and kneejerk reactions getting the best of them both.

But Poppy just couldn’t bring herself to move or make any kind of sound as she mutely stared out the window over their kitchen sink. Except for her hands curling of their volition around the squared edge of the counter, she was a statue, a gargoyle grotesquely cemented into place, her eyes distantly fixed on nothing.

She normally loved the view.

They’d lived in the same two bedroom apartment on a quiet street in the modern part of downtown Olzii for 3 ½ years now. “Home” was a corner unit on the 7th floor of a cozy but well appointed building with two walls of tall, light filled windows that Poppy had fallen in love with at first sight. Though really, anywhere was quiet compared to the ever present din and never ending hustle of Narin City. 

Poppy had almost immediately felt at home in the significantly smaller and far older city nestled in the mountainous, northwest region of Narin. Olzii was the capital of Altay, the country’s largest but least populated province named after the vast, hook shaped mountain range that protected the area from the harsh winter winds that blew down from Siberia. Which wasn’t to say there weren’t any people there, but it was a fraction of the densely packed, increasingly crowded coast. Poppy could count on one hand, with fingers left over, the number of buildings that hit 50 stories within 500 miles in any direction; to see them all was simply a matter of walking across the hall to visit the neighbors and their unobstructed view of the city’s skyscrapers.

Where cosmopolitan Narin City kept bloating in size, shooting up and out year after year, and rural, clan neutral Moonbright resisted change like the plague, Olzii had weathered numerous centuries by embracing a more measured approach. Its various industries had historically relied on the continued health of the Nigen River that sedately flowed through it; the city’s exceptionally clean drinking water drawn from the very same river had long been a matter of civic pride. Even its architecture - a mixture of new and so ancient nobody could truly say when certain foundations had first been laid - was informed by practical northern sensibilities. Ones that valued tall trees and a healthy watershed over bulldozing irreplaceable history to erect yet another needlessly tall and overly flashy skyscraper.

While she’d never once visited the province before moving there, Poppy had been pleasantly surprised at how quickly the unfamiliar city became home in a way even Moonbright never managed to be. It was as if someone had taken the best parts of her hometown and Narin City and sprinkled them throughout a metropolitan area that was big enough to still hold surprises, yet wasn’t so vast it swallowed a person whole if they made a wrong turn. Poppy had happily settled into the less frantic pace of life there, starting each day with a beautiful view of the river winding through the heart of the city like a shimmering ribbon, its waters bright and clear. 

But more importantly, mafia activity of any kind was pretty much nonexistent, and always would be, thanks to Olzii’s legendary status as the first royal capital of a unified Narin. Even Vincent Balthuman at the height of his power and wide reaching influence hadn’t dared be seen anywhere near the ancient city. Because if there was one thing all the old, backstabbing clans abided by, it was ironclad tradition built upon generations of superstition fed by wildly conflicting myths.

The simplest, most straightforward stories told of a mighty king of the north who claimed Olzii as his own after he conquered the once warring city states and brought them all under his rule. The romantically inclined poems with their effusive, flowery prose sang of how the city had been a hard won wedding gift for his beloved queen. The more fantastical accounts spoke of a red eyed demon king who commanded the wild mountain spirits, with almost as many claiming he fought as their unwilling, cursed slave. Some legends said he built the royal city in a single night with the aid of the mysterious Okuri Inu, their help coming at a painfully high cost, while others claimed he was one of the yokai himself. Sometimes he was tricked into abandoning his supernatural powers and warlike ways in Olzii by a quick thinking princess in disguise.

Poppy preferred the versions where King Ulaan willingly chose to stop waging war, moved to lay down his sword and spear by the courage and love of a kind hearted, beautiful queen seeking peace for her beleaguered people. Poppy had certainly seen for herself what great lengths one of his descendants was willing to go to for the sake of love and family.

Whatever the truth was that'd been buried beneath six centuries of increasingly tall tales tangled up with bits of overly embellished history and modern day political propaganda didn’t actually matter. The important thing was that ever since the last reigning Yeke king was overthrown more than 200 years ago, Narin’s sprawling network of old money blueblood families and their new money crime syndicates had given Olzii an intentionally wide berth. Any mafia clan foolhardy enough to conduct “business” within city limits would be quickly wiped out with ruthless efficiency.

Because laying claim to Olzii was tantamount to declaring all out war against every last career criminal in the country.

Tora had told Poppy that if you were ever responded to at a clan function with, “And I suppose after that, you’d like to move to Olzii?” it was time to shut up, because you’d just been called a massive fucking idiot in front of everyone. No one in their right mind went to Olzii, at least, not if they were in the mafia. Which was what made it the perfect place for the Tiger of Ares Street to escape to and not be overly concerned with ever being found out.

In addition to the delightful lack of organized crime and not having to worry about mafia politics, Poppy liked living where access to mature trees and rolling hills of grass wasn't treated like some kind of luxury reserved for the rich and well connected. Easily visible throughout their whole apartment, the Nigen River with its miles of parks and nature preserves lining either side reminded her of the old growth forests she’d taken for granted as a child back in Moonbright.

Olzii’s crisp, northern air and abundant wildlife, along with its historic district of stone structures and brightly painted shrines bearing important royal names was a world apart from the endless urban sprawl and accompanying choking smog out on the coast. Over a thousand miles inland, they both breathed easier in more ways than one, and not simply due to the lack of heavy air pollution, though that certainly helped. But even though he was the one who’d initially chosen Olzii and handled the hard work of getting them there safe and sound, Tora didn't adjust to their new home as quickly as Poppy did. 

When they'd first arrived, the big city thug had found himself entirely out of his element in the ancient, slower paced capital of his royal ancestors. He’d been forced to grow up far too fast on the rough streets of the largest, most dangerous city in the whole entire country, and it had taken him months of living in their apartment to feel even a passing shred of true peace. Where Poppy happily settled in, so much about the city reminding her of the rural area she’d grown up in, the former Tiger of Ares Street had been jumpy and tense at everything that wasn’t there.

Already leery of prolonged silence, it had put Tora’s hackles up to not hear shouting and gunshots and the accompanying wail of sirens at all hours. He'd been jittery at the absence of near-constant gridlocked traffic, and was thrown off entirely by not needing to be constantly on guard against the ongoing threat of mafia sanctioned violence. He’d had to be aware of so much for so long…but while all the danger of his old life lay far behind them, two decades of nonstop hypervigilance wasn’t so easy to switch off. 

It had taken time and more than a little coaxing on Poppy’s part, but week by week, Tora had slowly relaxed into the softer, safer soundscape of their new life. While getting their place fully set up and secured helped somewhat, both of them starting and sticking with therapy truly changed things for the better. The once boss level thug who hadn’t so much as batted an eye at navigating a disorientingly loud, jam packed nightclub; who didn’t break a sweat staring down half a dozen street thugs itching for a fight; and who’d seemed practically unfazed at driving her to the hospital not even four months ago during one of the worst storms Poppy had ever experienced…that same man actually got visibly annoyed now if even a single semi-truck happened to rumble down their street too late at night.

He wasn't the Tiger or Big Bro or Vincent Balthuman's tightly leashed dog anymore. Tora was just….Tora. Simply himself, free to choose who he wanted to be. Well, officially he was Thomas Wilkes, but his squeaky clean civilian name was one he'd picked out all on his own before there was any guarantee he'd actually get to use it. Despite the odds stacked against them, and the gutting losses that finally freed her husband from the mafia, they’d gotten the chance to create a true home together and even start a family.

Yes, they’d been roommates before they were actually even a couple, Goliath’s stupid notebook falling into the wrong hands putting a massive target on Poppy’s back. The manor in Felicia Bay, while grand and beautiful, had been an impulse buy, Tora’s idea of what she would like. It had given them a chance to catch their breath, for sure, but it was ultimately just a very pretty and all too temporary safehouse. 

Their subsequent apartments in Narin City were chosen for security over style, Tora always having the final say on where and when they moved next. While furnished and lived in, they simply weren’t able to stay at any one place long enough to put down roots. They hadn’t even been married three full months when they’d ditched the big city for good, everything coming to a head all at once.

But they’d chosen this apartment together, after careful and thorough deliberation of all the available options and what they both wanted. The mafia and Tora’s status as the Tiger of Ares Street and all the dangers that came with it hadn't needed to be part of the conversation about where to live for the first time in their whole entire relationship. They’d both been more than a little giddy at the prospect of being able to choose a place not solely based on how secure and impenetrable from attack it was. In Olzii, there wasn’t a “wrong side of town” they had to worry about, not like in Narin City.

Ever the list maker, Poppy had written out all their non-negotiables and then carefully noted what they each wanted in descending order of importance. She’d very much wanted a dishwasher, Tora still felt the need for consistent onsite security. He wanted easy access to a decent gym, she longed for good sightlines of the riverfront. Having lots of windows was a bonus and not a liability anymore.

They had actually found more than one place that satisfied all of their requirements, the brown brick building with its thick walls, sound absorbing carpet, and excellent natural light winning out in the end. But even after so long at the same address, with years of peace and freedom and safety wrapped around them like the coziest of blankets, there were still a few things about their apartment Poppy hadn’t ever grown to love. 

The way the weirdly sharp edge of the slightly too tall countertops pressed into the softest part of her stomach had stayed a continual source of irritation, even more so after she’d given birth. Every single time she reached up to open a cupboard or bent over to wash a dish was another entirely unneeded reminder that her body hadn’t snapped back into shape as fast as she’d naively thought it would. Looking in the mirror was bad enough some days; but apparently even her fudging kitchen counter had to point out the area around her still puckered belly button was now striped with an expanse of purply pink stretch marks Poppy worried would never fade. Or at least…on a normal day she did.

She grit her teeth at the rising whine radiating up from her jaw to just behind her eyes. Tora's heavy, waiting silence at Poppy's back made the shrill ringing all the more inescapable.

Normal. She just wanted things to be normal again. With her husband and everything else in her life.

Normal was juggling their squalling infant daughter while trying to prepare food or water her neglected houseplants or take a gossip laden call from her Granny, desperately wishing she had a second set of hands for just five minutes.

Normal was waiting for Tora to make his way home from work. A regular, civilian job, not anything like the role he’d been forcibly groomed from a young age to occupy in the mafia. Her caring, soft hearted husband had actually started his own business, giving others a second chance like the one he’d gotten not that long ago.

Normal was texting her brothers-in-law about the latest thing Lily had done, each new milestone much cause for celebration or confusion, depending on whether bodily fluids were involved. For being just a few days shy of four months old, the deceptively cute baby with her dad's golden eyes and a full head of jet black hair was practically a world champion at projectile vomiting. Or at least that’s what her Uncle Goliath liked to claim anytime she puked all over him.

That was normal.

But today was not a normal day. Poppy hadn’t had one of those for a month now. Not since the late night call that cracked another permanent fault line through her heart. Normal had been the hectic, exhilarating, frustrating, amazing, incredibly exhausting twelve weeks and two days she’d gotten as a new mother…until her world splintered into yet another gut wrenching before and after.

Lily was uncharacteristically quiet, their apartment almost as still and silent as the family gravesite in Moonbright Poppy had left covered in pure white chrysanthemums not even three weeks ago. The familiar, soft echoing hiss of the baby monitor from just behind her was the only indicator she was actually back where she belonged. Back to the home she’d ached with a bone deep longing to return to the entire time she was gone. 

Ten days in her childhood hometown should have felt like nothing….but it very much didn’t. A sense of wrongness that had nothing to do with the state of her ailing grandmother’s health had rushed in as soon as Poppy opened her eyes each morning and remembered where she was. Her husband and infant daughter over a thousand miles away on the other side of the country without her just made it all the worse. She was completely different than her mother…but Poppy had still hurriedly packed her bags and left the people she loved most behind.

 It was only a week and a half, and it wasn't like Lily would even remember or care about her brief absence; Poppy wasn't the parent their daughter cried to be held by anyways. But Poppy would certainly remember the discomfiting mixture of longing and relief she’d wrestled with the entire time she was gone. Even as she’d guiltily enjoyed the freedom to check her phone whenever she wanted, Poppy couldn't help but wonder what new additions were being made to the calendar while she was gone, what moments she was missing that she'd never get back.

The push and pull between those two opposing sides of herself had been confusing and just plain exhausting on top of tending to her Granny and dealing with everything else vying for her attention in Moonbright. Mother. Wife. Granddaughter. All her roles had clashed and warred with each other at the worst possible time. Taking care of her family took precedence over everything else, it always had…but Poppy could only give so much before she ran out of room to write her own story.

Even though it hurt like hell to walk into the airport all by herself, the heady rush of near giddy relief at being free took far more effort to suppress than she wanted to admit. Poppy hadn't even mentioned it to their counselor yet, still not sure what exactly she'd been feeling that night or why she'd been even remotely tempted to not return home. The following weeks hadn't brought any additional clarity, and she just wanted the more simple stress from her life a year ago back.

Lily was her daughter, for goodness sake, a child she'd very much wanted, and Poppy didn't like how light she'd felt at suddenly not being at her fussy baby's beck and call every few minutes. Her flight to Moonbright was the first time in twelve weeks she’d gotten three uninterrupted hours entirely to herself while awake. She'd both hated the quiet solitude and also basked in it, a selfish part of her never wanting it to end.

Poppy only barely managed to make it onto the plane before she'd started crying at the confusing mix of warring emotions swirling inside her. Her silent tears had only fallen harder once the lights of Olzii disappeared below the dark clouds, the protective line of tall mountains retreating into the night behind her. It had honestly felt like she was being torn in two. Leaving home to return home, abandoning her family to go be with family.

She’d spent 20 years of her life calling Moonbright “home,” still occasionally slipped and referred to it that way purely out of long ingrained habit. A little over 3 ½ years in Olzii was no time at all, a drop in the bucket in comparison. Moonbright had been formative, containing the entirety of her childhood, teen years, and all of college. She and Tora even met there, for goodness sake! 

The 2 ½ years she'd spent in Narin City was where Poppy truly became an adult, finding true love and meaning in completely unexpected people and places. She’d faced some of her worst fears head-on, revealing parts of herself she didn’t even know she had. If safe, predictable, clan neutral Moonbright made her feel small in all the worst ways, a tiny suffocating box of expectations she could never quite force herself to fit into, then Narin City with all its dangers was where Poppylan Wilkes truly blossomed into her full self. She wasn't really sure what it said about her that she hadn't truly thrived until her life got significantly more fraught and perilous.

But where Moonbright was unrelentingly constricting and Narin City put her directly in the mafia's crosshairs, Olzii was different right from the start. Poppy had been running on a solid week of pure adrenaline, exhausted down to her marrow, the full weight of Gyu's death still not hitting just yet. But when they'd made the final turn through the mountains on that bitterly cold December night and saw the storied city laid out below them like a glimmering jewel at last, it felt like she’d finally come home for the first time in her life.

Such a strong sense of belonging had washed over Poppy before they’d even reached their hotel, she’d started crying. The ancient royal capital with all its quirks, the blend of old and new somehow comfortably rubbing shoulders, the river and the parks she’d even now still barely explored…that was home, almost instantly settling into her bones as right and good and safe.

But even though everything was exactly the same, the sights and sounds unchanged, the sky as blue as ever, the river just as sparkling…it certainly didn’t feel like Poppy had returned to the same cozy, comforting apartment she’d left in such a panicked rush that awful night in June.

A sudden, echoey, crackling hiss from the baby monitor snapped Poppy's wandering thoughts back to the present. The edge of the counter bit into her palms as she struggled to remember why she was even standing in the kitchen in the first place. Her hands were both free. She'd come in here for a reason…that now escaped her entirely.

Poppy closed her eyes against the unrelenting ringing and a far too perceptive husband she couldn't bring herself to turn and face. So much for being an adult. The tattoo behind Tora's left ear touting her bravery mocked her present sad state like a particularly bad joke. If anything, Poppy was an even bigger chickenshit now.

She set her jaw as she made herself take in a slow, measured breath through her nose. Even if her brain was a useless pile of mush, and she still couldn't force herself to flip the calendar ahead, she at least knew it was July. And unlike her mother, Poppy had indeed returned home. To Olzii. To Tora. And to Lily. To her family where she belonged. To the city where she wanted to be.

Not in Moonbright. Not where tongues clucked and wagged and the gossip never stopped. Not where her grandmother had needlessly died a month ago and…and she was home with…with the baby monitor…Wait, the baby monitor?! If that was right behind her, then Tora…When had Tora even put Lily down for a nap? 

How long had she been standing there staring at nothing? It was Thursday, wasn’t it? Tora should be at work overseeing the latest incoming deliveries. Not babysitting his wife who needed to stop moping around and get her fudgin' shit together. Get her butt back into gear to take care of her still living and breathing family.

Poppy opened her mouth to tell Tora he was going to be late but closed it without uttering a single word, forcing a breath out through her nose as she tried not to clench her teeth. Why wouldn’t that blasted ringing just go the hell away already?! It seemed to ricochet through her whole entire skull, migrating into the hard knot her neck and shoulders had become over the past month.

It had all happened so fast. One moment Granny had been fine, joking on the phone while making plans for her upcoming visit to see Lily, waving off Poppy’s concerns about her health as usual. And then…she was gone, taken without warning by a fast moving infection. 

Antibiotic resistant. There was nothing they could do, the doctors had told Poppy with grim faces and pity in their eyes. She’d seen her helpless frustration mirrored back at her even as she’d wanted to howl and scream, throw a chair, light the whole damn hospital on fire. Anything to express the grief hollowing her out even now.

Poppy had tried to coax Granny into going to Narin City or even one of its outlying suburbs for the procedure, just any larger town where there were better equipped hospitals to choose from. But no, Granny had insisted her favorite clinic in Moonbright knew what it was doing, that her friends had the same thing done there, and they’d been back to gardening and playing pickleball in less than a week.

Because Granny's friends always knew better. No matter how old she got, or even the fact that she was married and had a child of her own now, Granny never did treat Poppy as a fully fledged adult or give her concerns any true consideration. Not really. Her gardening club or bingo partners or any of the numerous acquaintances around town she always claimed she didn’t like…those were the people Kim Fleur listened to at the end of the day. Hell, her grandmother gave more weight to her freakin’ mail carrier’s opinions over her own granddaughter who only had her best interests at heart.

Poppy’s left lower eyelid twitched hard enough that she scrunched her eyes more tightly closed as she struggled not to grind her teeth. It had been so long since she’d dealt with the nagging shrill ringing, she’d almost forgotten how much it’d bothered her when she lived in Moonbright. She remembered getting her ears checked more than once over the years, the high pitched whine growing ever louder and sharper before she’d finally worked up the courage to move to Narin City all on her own. And then it had just…disappeared completely, silence falling even before she'd broken up with her cheating dirtbag ex. 

Granny had called Julri a shitweasel for years, despite Poppy's constant stream of protests and excuses, but she could admit her grandmother had been right about him. Did Granny ever think the same about anything Poppy said? Before she'd fallen unconscious in those last lucid moments, had she admitted that perhaps her granddaughter had indeed been right about something? That if she'd just…fucking listened she wouldn't be dying?!

Poppy winced, her hand reflexively rising to her right ear as the ringing on that side rose to a shriek.

"Bobby–" Tora started to say, shifting towards her before he paused at the soft, sleepy sound coming through the baby monitor. Lily wordlessly babbled for a few moments before she settled back into silence, clearly having a pleasant dream of some sort. Even though a camera feed of their daughter’s crib was continuously displayed on the monitor, Poppy really should go in there and check on her.

She should be doing something more useful with herself besides trying to rid her mind of the litany of empty platitudes offered by people her Granny supposedly never even liked. None of them had known her grandmother, not really. Those old biddies just wanted to dig for information while tutting over poor little Poppylan, the hometown girl with the weird name who couldn’t hack it in the big city or even keep a decent man. 

Poppy hadn’t bothered to correct them on either point. As her potty mouthed husband so earnestly reminded her when he’d dropped her off at the airport, the life she’d built away from those insufferably nosy, overly opinionated harpies was none of their goddamn fucking business. Even though it stung to hear how utterly and completely wrong people were about, well, everything in regards to her, Poppy refused to let her and Tora’s sacrifices or their hard won happiness be reduced to small town gossip fuel.

And it wasn’t like Granny’s sudden death hadn’t given her so-called friends plenty to wring their hands over. Ten days surrounded by the endless churn of the Moonbright rumor mill had been enough for the rest of Poppy’s life. She’d overheard every last unwanted, not so quietly shared opinion about Kim Fleur and the sad state of affairs her family had been reduced to over the years.

Poppy had grit her teeth and kept her head high, refusing to give any of those blathering busybodies the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Her sole focus had been settling her grandmother’s affairs as quickly as possible so she never had any reason to return. But even after years away, going back to Moonbright rooted out her weak spots all over again. She couldn’t tune the voices out entirely, stray remarks finding their target when she least expected it.

“Poor Kim. It’s such a tragedy. But I suppose that’s what you get for marrying on such an inauspicious day all those years ago. That’s why I absolutely refused to let my daughter marry in the winter.”

“What’s she planning to do with that old rundown house outside of town? I’m honestly surprised it’s still standing. My grandson would never let repairs go undone like that.”

“She’s certainly put on some weight, hasn’t she? A few pounds here and there adds up if you're not careful, and Poppy’s always been such a…healthy eater.”

It had taken far more effort than Poppy liked to not snap and scream herself hoarse at the pack of sharp eyed gossips following her every move with far too much interest that long, lonely week and a half. It didn’t help that she’d lost her Granny to something so incredibly stupid and easily preventable as poorly sterilized medical equipment. It was a slap in the face after everything Granny had gone through in her life, losing one family member after another, only to succumb to a simple bacterial infection. Even if they hadn’t always seen eye to eye, the only grandparent Poppy ever knew deserved better than that.

Poppy wasn’t even 30 herself yet, and had already endured enough pain and loss to last a lifetime. Her mother left, her dad died, Tora very nearly died, and then Gyu was killed, even to the very end still looking out for his Big Bro. None of it was fair. The fact that her spirited, larger than life grandmother had been killed by a bit of bacteria getting into the wrong place just added insult to injury.

At least with cancer, there were possible treatments available. You could cut it out, or zap it with a laser, or do chemo, depending on where it was…Well, if you actually caught it early enough for any of those to be viable options.

Despite all the advances modern medicine had made, all the drugs and diagnostic tools at the doctors’ disposal, it had been a death sentence for Poppy’s loved ones either way. Her father and grandmother were both unfairly taken before their time. So many words left unsaid, conversations that would never happen, no matter how much she wished otherwise.

“Bobby…ya okay?” Tora asked softly, her normally self-assured tiger unusually tentative as he slid a step closer. As if worried that speaking too loudly or moving too fast would cause the cracks inside his wife to irreparably shatter.

Or maybe that’s what she was afraid of. Poppy could feel the jagged edges of herself scraping against each other, something dark and wild pushing for release at all the places where she’d worn thin and brittle.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she responded, the words reflexively rolling off her tongue even as she tasted the lie in them. “Just waiting for my tea to finish steeping.”

“Your tea, huh? Ya mean the tea that went cold, oh, I dunno, probably fifteen minutes ago?” Tora said dryly. 

Poppy's eyes snapped open at that, suddenly realizing she’d closed them tight against the cutting, mean spirited words that’d lodged so deeply despite her best efforts. Those people didn’t matter, they didn’t know her and never had. She didn’t need to return to Moonbright ever again…and yet, she couldn’t shake off the whispers, the judgemental stares, the raised eyebrows, the conversations breaking off as she entered the room.

Her tea. Tora had asked about her tea. Poppy locked on to the baby monitor in her husband's hand as he gestured towards the mug of dark, clearly over-steeped liquid sitting abandoned on the counter. She'd set it down next to the electric teakettle and somehow forgotten about it entirely until the word "tea" left her mouth.

“Oh. Yeah. That,” Poppy said, each word its own flat sentence as she slowly turned her head to fully take in the brightly glazed mug splashed in various shades of iridescent pink. The small movement took far too much effort, her head a heavy, cumbersome weight on her neck, as if someone had taken the large punching bag Tora kept in his office at work and shoved it inside her skull. 

The corners of her mouth twitched, though Poppy couldn’t have said whether it was an attempt at a pained grimace or a confused frown. All she knew for sure was that it wasn’t anything close to a smile. Those had been in short supply the last several weeks, along with any sense of normalcy.

It wasn't fair.

Things were supposed to be better here, different, happy. They’d fled over a thousand miles across the country from the mafia and Ares Street, from Tora’s past and his old name, leaving friends and family behind, some of them for good. They’d set up a new life far from the dangers hiding in the dark alleyways and deceptively glittering highrises of Narin City. They were Thomas and Poppy Wilkes now, new parents to an adorable baby girl. They weren’t supposed to lose any more loved ones like this, with death leaping out of the dark wielding a sharp, cruel knife.

Poppy stared at one of her longtime favorite mugs like she’d never seen it before, making no move to pick up the aggressively pink thing. When had her favorite color suddenly become so…garish and off-putting?

Her gaze automatically drifted over the crumbs and dirty dishes from breakfast littering the kitchen counter before she found herself confronted with the last thing she wanted to see just then. The word “June” mocked her, a brightly colored taunt surrounded by cartoon, smiling flowers and cute, chubby cheeked hamsters. The "Mommy and Me" calendar really should have been called "Daddy and Me,” because Lily was practically Tora's clone, right down to the same intense golden eyes that seemed to stare straight into Poppy's soul. But where being seen like that was usually comforting with her husband, it had the opposite effect coming from her infant daughter, as if Poppy was being judged and found wanting.

She yanked her gaze away from the calendar, staring down at her hands braced on either side of her as she leaned harder into the edge of the counter. She focused on the sting of it, the sharp line pressing straight across her squishy, postpartum stomach. If only it would slice her in two, cut out whatever was curling in on itself behind her belly button, the itching, writhing thing there begging to be free.

The shrill ringing inside Poppy’s head rose to a maddening pitch she couldn’t even pretend to ignore anymore. It was behind her eyes, in the roots of her teeth, clenching down the sides of her neck into her shoulders. She wanted to scream, blast some music, fling something against the wall, anything, just to make it stop.

“Sweetheart, please –” Tora’s voice broke as his fingertips barely grazed her left shoulder blade, directly over the swallowtail butterfly and peony tattoo hidden beneath her baggy t-shirt. Poppy hadn’t even heard him move across the kitchen. Normally, he tried to make sure she could hear him coming towards her.

She flinched at the unexpected touch, and Tora immediately withdrew his hand before she could tell him to leave it there, to pull her close and not let go. She wanted to tell him to finish his question. Wanted to talk with her husband, the one person who knew her better than anyone else, who saw her for who she really was and never found her lacking. Poppy wanted to let loose the torrent of words dammed up right where her uncooperative tongue ended and her parched throat began.

But Poppy didn’t know what Tora was trying to ask. And she sure as hell didn’t know what she'd so desperately needed to say ever since her Granny took her final breath.

She stared out the window, fixing her gaze on the shimmering river, the bright summer sun reflecting off it in an almost blinding spray of undulating sparkles. It was such a beautiful day, the kind she daydreamed about during the coldest parts of winter. Poppy should have been out enjoying it, pushing Lily in the stroller down to the nearby riverfront park, texting her husband if he was free to meet up with them for lunch.

Whatever was stuck at the back of her throat wasn’t about Tora, she at least knew that much. He’d been perfect, absolutely amazing, taking care of Lily all on his own those ten achingly long days she’d been gone. For someone who’d never even held a baby or changed a diaper before, the once boss level thug had adapted to fatherhood seemingly overnight, stepping into his new role with a natural ease and confidence Poppy had yet to achieve for herself.

While Tora could apparently handle Lily’s care all by himself for multiple days in a row with no issue, Poppy certainly didn’t feel anywhere near that capable. Their infant daughter was too young and needy to fly or drive clear across the country with the parent who couldn’t even make a stupid fudging cup of tea properly. It was hard enough some days with Tora working practically right around the corner from their apartment, able to easily pop home for lunch or whenever his wife needed him. Just from a practical standpoint, there was no way Poppy could take their daughter and leave her husband behind. 

But he couldn’t go with her to Moonbright. And neither could Lily.

Because while Lily Alice Wilkes might be Poppy’s daughter in name, she was the spitting image of a certain dark haired, golden eyed, mafia hitman who was supposed to have died over 3 ½ years ago in the same fiery car wreck that killed Gyu. Moonbright might be clan neutral, but Poppy would be damned if their friend’s sacrifice ended up being for nothing because some idle scrap of gossip about her infant daughter’s looks found its way back to Ares Street.

So she’d left on a red eye flight directly to Moonbright that Quincey insisted on chartering for his favorite editor. It’d been the worst sort of torture to step away from her dying grandmother’s hospital bed to pump milk only to dump it straight down the drain. But Poppy had done what she needed to, keeping her supply from drying up while her husband and baby girl waited for her to return.

But while she’d been back home almost three weeks now, she kept having to check her phone to remember what day it was, what time it was, what she was supposed to be doing with herself. She went through the motions of taking care of Lily, but didn’t feel anything, even while nursing. The hours and minutes seemed to slip away even faster than they had while Poppy counted down her grandmother’s remaining breaths in that lonely hospital room.

She swallowed, suddenly aware of how tightly she was gripping the edge of the counter, her husband a warm, solid presence directly behind her. The steady hissing woosh signaling all was well with their daughter moved off to the left as Tora set the baby monitor next to her abandoned mug.

Before Poppy could even glance at the monitor screen or do anything else, Tora’s hands slowly moved into her field of vision. He gave her plenty of time to see his intent as his strong, tattooed arms came around her, his large hands engulfing hers. He gently loosened her death grip on the counter, cradling her fingers between his as he brushed his thumbs over the red indents in her palms. Tora didn't touch her otherwise, though she could feel the heat of him at her back, only mere inches separating them now.

When Poppy just stood there and remained silent, she felt more than heard her husband sigh, his breathe momentarily rushing across the crown of her head before his lips found the same spot. Poppy instinctively tried to raise her hands to smooth her ratty hair, but Tora wouldn’t release his grip on her fingers, drawing her hands to her chest as his arms tightened around her. He curled over her even as she stayed stiff, his shoulders slumping at her lack of response.

Tora ran his thumb over her wedding ring, a motion he’d done countless times over the years. Poppy normally wouldn’t have even noticed, but it was actually the first day she’d been able to get it back on her finger since mid-November. She thought she’d be thrilled to wear it once again, her hand feeling far too naked for the past 8 months without the gold eternity band engraved with her husband’s fingerprint. She’d never realized how much she and Tora both fiddled with it until she couldn’t fit it over her second knuckle for so long. 

But where she should have been happy or elated or just any kind of positive emotion after realizing she could finally slide her wedding ring on without any resistance that morning, Poppy instead felt…nothing. She’d just shrugged and finished tossing on a pair of sweatpants and one of her husband’s well-worn t-shirts, promptly forgetting to mention it to Tora as she mindlessly followed her daily routine of changing Lily’s morning diaper and feeding her before getting breakfast.

It wasn’t that Poppy didn’t want to talk. She'd already tried multiple times that day with no luck; every day over the past few weeks had been a similar disappointing struggle. Every single stinkin' time she went to speak, the words dissolved in her mouth, dripping back down her throat, turning her stomach sour and tight. Poppy wanted to relax into the man she loved more than life itself, sink back against the solid muscles she’d spent over half a decade intimately acquainted with, but she just…couldn’t. Didn’t feel like she deserved to.

The ringing sensation crawled out into her jaw again, her back molars aching like she’d bitten down on a hard shard of ice.

Tora tapped his fingers against the back of Poppy’s hands, silently asking her to say something, anything before he pressed his face into her hair with a defeated sigh. 

“Sweetheart…Poppylan. Please. We can’t keep goin’ like this. I need ya to talk to me.” His lips brushed against her head as he spoke, and Poppy suddenly wanted to cry at the feel of him around her, his hands holding hers with such tender care. She realized with a sharp stab of guilt how little they’d touched since she’d been back…how little they’d touched since she’d given birth really.

Oh sure, Tora had helped change her clothes in those early postpartum days when her limbs wouldn’t cooperate, rubbed her feet, guided her in and out of the shower, washed and brushed her hair. He always pressed gentle kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, the top of her head whenever he had to leave, hugging her and giving a chaste peck on the lips once he returned home. But all of that was about her, for her, giving whatever she needed or wanted from him.

When was the last time she'd touched him first? Physical affection that didn't involve asking Tora for something or passing Lily between them?

“I–” Poppy started, but stopped when she felt herself trembling….No, Tora was the one trembling, but he was so close it was transferring to her. 

No, that wasn’t quite right either. It was both of them, her back quivering against the subtly quaking planes of his muscular chest and stomach.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Poppy whispered, clutching her husband's hands tighter to her heart. “It’s just…there’s…a lot. In here. And it hurts. So much.” Her voice grew stronger, her trembling subsiding as she finally, finally let herself relax into Tora, refusing to let the shrieking ringing in her ears steal her words any longer. “Like a fudging–no, like a fucking bitch ."

Tora hummed approvingly at her uncharacteristically strong choice of words but didn't say anything else, his silence and the feel of his lips on her head and his hands over her heart helping Poppy press on. "But I don’t know how to get it out, or what to tell you or–or what I need. I just…I just hate it,” she said with a sudden rush of clarity. "I hate it so god damn much."

She did. She hated it. Hated all of it. How grossly unfair it was. They’d lost so much already, lost too many loved ones while awful people got to make both their lives hell for years on end. They’d gotten the chance to start over somewhere new and safe, to create a family of their own…but they’d given up so much to be standing there in Olzii, far out of reach of the clans.

Lily was only able to be born because Gyu had died, because all of Ares Street and the rest of the thuglets thought Big Bro Tora was dead. Erdene and Jacob would never know how happy Poppy had actually been the last few years, her friends still thinking she'd gone into hiding grieving and all alone. Tora couldn't even keep his own name, for goodness sake. She’d never be able to introduce herself as Poppylan Yeke to anyone; because that name had to die along with her husband’s old life. She’d never get the chance to proudly show off Tora and Lily back in Moonbright, proving the naysayers wrong once and for all. 

"Poor little Poppy" had an amazing, handsome husband and a beautiful baby girl who was healthy and so strong for her age. Poppy couldn't brag to Granny's friends about how Lily took after her big, strong dad and was already trying to crawl. She couldn’t show off the adorable anniversary photos they'd taken last fall. Kim's "failure to launch" granddaughter had a good life she'd fought long and hard for, and Poppy did not for one single second regret leaving Moonbright in the dust behind her. Life in Olzii was so much better….and she couldn't share any of it.

It wasn’t fair.

Poppy felt her chest heaving as her breathing picked up, the words falling out of her mouth faster and louder now that she’d given voice to that single dark emotion and everything it contained. “I hate how I feel. And I hate that I can’t figure out how to talk to you about it. And I hate that I feel so…so flat and empty, that I can't think straight or remember what I was doing even five freakin' minutes ago. I hate that I had to leave you and Lily behind, and that there was a part of me that actually… wanted–” her voice cracked on the word before she swallowed and resolutely pressed on, “wanted to leave. And then I couldn't wait to get home, but now I don't know what to do with myself, and I've already been back for almost three weeks.”

Poppy heaved out a heavy sigh she felt all the way down in her low back. "Nothing feels the same, and I don't know how to fix any of it. I can't even get myself to change the stupid fudgin' calendar! I hate that I feel like such a massive, pathetic failure of a wife and mother right now. You've picked up so much slack and taken care of Lily and me and done everything while I'm just…doing nothing but standing around like a frumpy, useless lump who can't even make a single stupid fucking cup of tea!"

Tora huffed a quiet laugh into her hair as he gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “Well, I’d say that’s a pretty good start right there, Bobby. Even if we both know that last part’s complete horseshit, seein’ as how you’re one hell of an amazing wife and mom. Still don't know how I got so damn lucky to have ya choose my stupid dumb ass." She could feel him crookedly smiling where his lips pressed against the crown of her head. “Think that’s the most you’ve said to me all week."

Poppy opened her mouth, but Tora cut her off with an admonishing growl before she could even begin to form an apology. "And don't ya dare fuckin’ apologize. You're talkin' now, and that's what matters. Remember what Chris always says…”

They spoke in unison, repeating what the therapist they’d both been seeing for the last few years often reminded them of during their sessions. “Sometimes it’s more important just to start talking than waiting until you have the perfect words.”

Tora gave Poppy another reassuring squeeze before he turned her to face him, lifting her chin with his index finger. "And that was a good start, Sweetheart…but you're holdin' onto a hell of a lot more than that. I'm the one who's s’posed to be emotionally constipated, remember?" he said with dry self-deprecation. “Narin’s biggest drama hoe right here, if ya go by what Quince says. Tch, like that isn’t the world’s loudest, most dramatic pot calling the kettle black.”

While Tora and Poppy had both made good strides in therapy, it would take a lot longer than three years and eight months away from Narin City for her husband to fully reckon with the first three decades of his life. He hadn’t become a living legend and earned a street name like the Tiger of Ares Street by talking through his feelings. Old habits died hard, and there were still plenty of days Poppy had to pull the words out of him one by one like so many tiny, broken splinters.

Usually when her emotions were running high, Poppy spoke faster than her mind could keep pace with, words gushing out in a rapid torrent that sometimes swept both her and Tora up in it. But right now, she felt as if someone had thrown her into a vat of hot candle wax that’d burned her down to the bone before slowly going cold, trapping her fast as it solidified.

“But I know what it’s like to lose people ya care about,” Tora said, his humor dissipating as he switched the focus back to Poppy, her gaze immediately falling to where her palms pressed into his chest. Tora flattened his hands over hers as she focused on the steady, even beat of his heart beneath her fingers.

Tora’s Narin City accent had softened out a bit over the past few years, but it sharpened now, as it always did whenever he delved into the worst parts of his past that he usually kept carefully tucked away, not wanting his old life to mar their present happiness or touch their daughter in any way.

“People ya thought would live forever, even though ya knew that was bullshit. But ya were s’posed to have ‘em in yer life a hell of a lot longer than what ya actually got. Ya just assumed there’d be time…time for all the shit ya hadn’t gotten around to with 'em yet.” The years of pain and aching losses behind her husband’s quiet, matter-of-fact words melted some of the tension out of Poppy’s neck and shoulders. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze, silently reminding her she wasn’t alone in her grief. 

“Cuz they were just… there. Stupid fucks that got on ya damn nerves half the time, and crawled up ya ass the other half tryin’ to be all helpful and shit. Made it too damn easy to forget they were just as human and fragile as everyone else until…” Tora trailed off, his hands heavy on top of Poppy’s as he let out a deep sigh. “Until they’re gone and there’s nothing ya can do about it, except break some shit while trying not to let the anger burn ya up from the inside out.”

Poppy frowned at that, sliding one of her hands out from under Tora’s to pick at his wedding ring with one finger. “But I’m not angry,” she said, intently tracing the ridges of her fingerprint engraved on the thick gold band.

Tora snorted. “And I’m a fuckin’ stool pigeon, Sweetheart. Did ya forget who you’re talking to? Speakin' from my fair share of personal experience, grief and anger are just two different sides of the same damn coin. Not proud of it, but I fuckin’ lost it after Joe died. Ended up trashin’ Alice’s place pretty bad. Give the old bat a call if ya don’t believe me, she’ll tell ya all the crap of hers I had to replace.”

“You didn’t trash anything after Gyu though…” Poppy said, her voice trailing off, the catalyst for their impromptu, cross-country road trip forever etched into her mind. 

Under different circumstances, it would have been fun and exciting, like their weekend trip to the Ren Fest on a far grander scale. But she’d been utterly terrified, sad, and just plain exhausted. Gyu’s sudden death had set in motion a plan they hadn’t been ready to pull the trigger on quite yet, not all the final pieces in place. But as the old saying went, time waits for no one, and they’d needed to act fast if they wanted their friend’s sacrifice to actually accomplish something.

Tora’s mouth twisted through a few different emotions before flattening into an unamused expression. He arched a brow at Poppy, his thoughts clearly going in a similar direction as hers. “Yeah, well, I was more than a little preoccupied with making damn fuckin' sure everyone thought I was dead. Also kinda busy haulin’ ass outta Narin and keeping us both alive long enough to make it here in one piece.”

He lifted her chin again, higher this time, keeping his index finger there so she couldn’t look away. “And I also know full fuckin’ well what you’re doing right now. Stop trying to dodge the question, Bobby.”

Her mouth was moving before Poppy even realized what she was saying, “You didn’t actually ask me anything though.”

For cripes sake, why on earth did she say that? Even she could hear how petulant she sounded. Why was she being so evasive again? The words had come so easy just a minute ago when she wasn't trying, but now Poppy wanted to cringe at herself. 

She was acting like the argumentative, self-centered child Julri always accused her of being. Tora was just trying to help, yet again, and here she was snappily contradicting everything he said. It felt like a moody teenager had taken over her mouth while she wasn’t paying attention.

Tora huffed at her, not able to hold back a growl that was equal parts frustrated and worried. “Fuckin’ hell, Poppylan, and ya say I’m pedantic. Enough with the goddamn word games. You're so fuckin’ pissed, I’m surprised ya haven’t cracked a tooth yet. Somethin’s eating ya up inside, and ya need to stop being so goddamn nice and sweet and just let it out already.”

Poppy couldn’t help it as a bitter laugh burst out of her that quickly turned into a flood of ugly tears. She ducked her head, tried to twist her body away, not able to meet Tora’s eyes. 

Sweet. Out of all the words to choose from, why did he have to keep calling her sweet?! There was nothing sweet about what she’d just said or what she was feeling right now…or what she’d desperately been trying to keep at bay for the past month.

Her infuriatingly intuitive husband was right, as sharp eyed as ever, reading the pages she’d insisted even to herself were blank. She was angry. So fucking angry, the ringing that had always been a silent, repressed scream of rage surging to a shrieking crescendo inside her head. If it had been a real sound, her beloved pink mug and the glass walled electric tea kettle on the counter would’ve shattered. 

Poppy swayed at the force of her suddenly freed rage, blindly reaching behind her for the edge of the counter, the heel of her palm missing it entirely. If Tora hadn’t been there, she would’ve followed her hand through the air and likely hit the floor hard. But his catlike reflexives were as quick as ever, and his hands were bracing her shoulders before she even realized she’d started toppling sideways.

“Ah fuck, c’mere, Sweetheart,” Tora murmured as he pulled her in tight, enveloping her in strong arms that would never let her fall.

Poppy tried to hold back the tears, shuddering at the tidal wave slamming into her. But there was that stupid fudgin' word again. Sweet. She wasn't sweet! Chickenshit, absolutely. Judgy, still more than she'd like. Grieving, and hurt, and yes, so fucking mad. But not sweet.

She scoffed, her hands balling into fists as she shook her head where her forehead pressed against her husband’s chest. Her tears fell harder, soaking his shirt even as another incredulous laugh barked out of her mouth followed by a series of loud, shaky exhales. She couldn’t tell whether they were sobs or more unhinged laughter. Poppy knew she must sound like an absolute crazy person just then, her emotions entirely out of control.

Sweet?! She wasn’t sweet! Far from it. As if she hadn’t thought a thousand dark, ugly things each day she’d been stuck in that cesspool she’d once innocently called home. Scenic Moonbright with its miles of beautiful hiking trails and clucking tongues that never freakin' stopped. The quaint main street with its cute little shops that did little to mask the veiled insults couched in faux concern that so often passed for conversation. The clear blue sky and bucolic summer soundtrack of frogs and cicadas made the not so furtive side-eyed glances and raised eyebrows all the more galling to endure.

How many fucking times had she been forced to hear what goddamn Julri was up to over those ten days?! He was her ex for a reason, it had been over six years, and people still wanted her to feel bad for not staying with him. Her grandmother had just died, she was over a thousand miles away from her husband and child, but no, all anyone wanted to talk about was that smarmy, entitled, stuck up shitbag and how well he was doing. How successful he was from his parents’ stupid potato farming operation, how he’d found such a “nice girl” and settled down, how grand their house was, how cute their kid was. Their wedding had been so lovely - here, she should see a picture. And did she know he’d had a baby just over a year ago?

Thank god he’d been off on some overpriced cruise with his perfect little family the entire she’d been in Moonbright, because Julri was literally the last person Poppy had wanted to deal with. Hearing about him secondhand had been bad enough.

Why did anyone in their right mind think she gave a single, solitary fuck what that human shaped pile of excrement was doing with his life?! She’d broken up with him more than six years ago, but it was his story that’d prevailed around town. It was he who’d finally grown tired of her prudish ways, that she was selfish and didn’t care about his needs and had abruptly abandoned him for some schmuck in the big city. As if not “putting out” and refusing to make her entire existence about him was somehow worse than him repeatedly cheating on her.

Poppy had wanted to gag at the way Julri was lauded as some kind of pillar of the community now, an upstanding family man in everyone’s eyes. Funny how having money made people fawn all over someone. How had she never seen it in all the years she’d lived there?

Jurli had abused her in all the ways that didn’t leave physical marks, but even now, more than half a decade later, Poppy was still untangling the tightly knotted mess he’d made of her heart. She hated having to devote counseling sessions to the damage he’d done, still monopolizing her time, her thoughts, her emotions, intruding on her relationship with Tora and the parts of herself she rarely brought out into the light.

What had made it all the worse was how everyone acted liked Poppy was the one who was pitiful and worthy of scorn. The selfish, hometown girl who’d thrown away a good life in Moonbright to chase after unattainable fantasies, who hadn’t made anything of herself. She was the one who’d moved away to the big city and left her grandmother behind after all. She was the one who’d abandoned her boyfriend for some lowlife tattooed thug before suddenly picking up and moving all the way out to a distant province with no warning. 

Clearly, the prevailing theory went, Poppylan Wilkes had chosen poorly and fallen in with the wrong crowd. The raised eyebrows she’d gotten at the absence of a wedding ring alongside her obvious need to regularly pump her leaking, engorged breasts had said plenty.

Poppy trembled as the tears came faster despite her best efforts to slow them, Tora’s dark green t-shirt growing damp with her snot. She couldn’t even smell him just then, which just made it all the worse. But there was no stopping the dammed up river she’d been holding back for weeks, her husband’s words releasing the death grip she’d been keeping on herself.

His touch was so gentle even as he held her tight, his arms strong and sure around her. Tora wouldn’t let her fall, but Poppy also knew if she went to step away, he’d let her go in an instant.

But sweet? She wasn’t sweet. Tora had it all wrong. The words she wanted to say weren’t anything close to loving or kind. It was pure acid that’d been eating away at her insides ever since she hung up the phone the night the hospital called. 

There was the “I told you so,” she’d wanted to hiss more than once as she’d sat at her grandmother's bedside waiting for her to die. The stream of invectives she’d wanted to unleash each time another barb landed from the people Granny had always insisted Poppy be polite and deferential to no matter how many snide remarks they threw at her. Granny could freely bitch about her garden club, the senior center crowd, the neighbors, anyone and everyone in town, and Poppy was just supposed to sit there and nod. But anytime she’d been hurt, slighted, teased, picked on, ignored, gossiped about, she was supposed to hold her tongue and take the high road.

“Oh, don’t let them get to you, Poppy girl. Sticks and stones, remember….Goodness gracious, we don’t talk like that in this house!….What would your father say?”

No wonder her mother had left Moonbright and never looked back.

Poppy buried her face in Tora’s shirt and let the sobs take her. She clung to him, the ringing in her jaw drowned out by her shrill, high breaths. She fought the urge to run and lock herself in the bathroom where she could bite her lip long past the point of pain and hide her weeping behind the running shower. 

She’d kept it together for weeks, over a month, but now she’d finally cracked. She’d chewed the inside of her cheeks so much in Moonbright, she’d tasted blood more than once. Her mouth was still tender almost a month later.

It was stupid and childish, but what honestly hurt the most was that she hadn't even been one of the emergency contacts Granny had on file at the hospital. Logically, it made sense to have Ned and June on the list, seeing as how they lived so close by. But at the end of the day, they were Granny's neighbors. Poppy was family.

Yes, Poppy had left Moonbright, but she never abandoned her grandmother like her mom selfishly did. Ned and June hadn't sent money for years to maintain the crumbling house Granny insisted on staying in. They weren't the ones who'd scrimped and saved and gone without to make sure Granny had a decent car to get around town. It wasn't Ned or June who'd carefully kept track of Granny's ever growing list of doctors and specialists and various appointments from over a thousand miles away. They definitely cared and had been there for both Poppy and Granny through some truly awful times….but that had been when Poppy was a literal child.

She was an adult now, and should have heard from the hospital hours earlier, been contacted first. She'd only finally received a call at June's urging when Granny's condition had taken a turn for the worse.

Tora held Poppy tighter as she buried her face in his chest and somehow cried harder, her husband seemingly unfazed at how quickly she'd gone from zero emotion to suddenly feeling all of them at once. She couldn't even see just then, didn't really want to if she was being honest. She didn't have to look to know she was making a mess of his shirt that even their little projectile vomit champion would be hard pressed to match.

Between the shrill ringing in her ears and her choking sobs, Poppy felt like she was coming apart at the seams, Tora's rock solid embrace the only thing keeping her from completely unraveling.

God, she felt like an absolute mess. Well, more of a mess than she'd started out as that morning. If she'd known Tora was staying home from work, she would have at least combed her hair or put on a better shirt or made sure her socks matched or just…tried to be less pathetic, less of a failure who needed her hand held to make a simple cup of tea. Who couldn’t even put her own baby down for a nap.

When was the last time she'd worn something even remotely put together? Her grandmother's funeral service. The days after as Poppy tied up loose ends in Moonbright, just wanting to get the hell out of there and go home.

That's all she'd been able to think about the entire time she was gone. Home, home, home, drumming through her mind on repeat, beating through her veins with every cutting remark and backhanded compliment she put up with. She’d silently repeated, This isn’t home anymore, these people don’t matter. Just grin and bear it until you get home. You never have to see these people again. She replayed it over and over like a mantra, even as the barbs landed one after the other.

But Poppy was home now, had been for almost three weeks, and still couldn't handle even the most basic, rudimentary tasks. She was a nonfunctioning mess of snot and ugly tears and sweatpants that should have been washed two days ago. Even her stupid fudging hair couldn't keep it together, falling out of the haphazard bun she'd thrown it into earlier that morning.

No, it wasn't coming undone on its own…it was Tora deftly slipping the scrunchie free with one hand. It was her husband's palm gently stroking the back of her head even as her tears continued unabated. It was his fingers unhurriedly combing through her hair, pausing here and there to tenderly work through the knots that hindered his way.

The deep rumble of his baritone voice reverberated around her, close enough to break through the blinding flood of tears and the deafening anger shrieking its fury in her ears. He was talking to her again, but she was so close she couldn’t make out the individual words…no. No, that wasn’t quite right. It was too rhythmic, the sound of a gentle wave calling her home. He wasn’t actually saying anything this time, just wordlessly humming his love, his acceptance, his…utter contentment at having her in his arms again.

Poppy shuddered, the guilt and rage fizzling out into a hiss, her fists loosening their white knuckled grip on Tora’s t-shirt as he started untangling a new section of hair. His fingers worked through the strands at an unhurried pace, as if he had all the time in the world to devote to the task. As if he had nothing better to do with his day than stand in their kitchen and hold her close and comb out her hair.

This was home. Home where it was safe to lose her shit and cry her eyes out, because she didn’t have to keep it all together anymore. Tora didn’t give a single solitary fuck about “keeping up with the Jones,” or what her ex was or wasn’t doing with his insignificant, small town life. He just cared about her. Cared about their daughter. Cared about making sure his family was loved and taken care of.

Poppy wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, Tora gently combing through her hair, his other hand warm and comforting where it rested on her low back as he hummed through a couple more rounds of his chosen song. His voice reverberated through her, soothed the sore places, smoothed down the sharpest edges, settled her back into place.

She was truly home again.

The tidal wave ebbed and flowed away, its fury and wrath spent, the anger and guilt and grief settling into a current Poppy could swim alongside once more. She slid her arms around Tora and turned her face, pressing her ear to the damp spot she’d made on his chest. She melted into the feel of him, his rock solid presence, riding the rise and fall of his steady, even breath. He patted her back, practically purring with satisfaction when she impulsively slipped her fingers just inside his waistband and wiggled her fingertips along the top of his perfect tiger booty before he picked up his tune once more.

Her first genuine smile in weeks spread across her face as it finally dawned on Poppy exactly which song her husband had defaulted to in his desire to comfort her.

“Is that…the Itsy Bitsy Spider?” she rasped, her voice raw and hoarse from her outpouring of emotion.

“No.....maybe,” Tora muttered, the bashfulness practically radiating off of him.

Poppy tilted her face up, propping her chin on Tora's chest as she smirked at him. “I thought you hated spiders.”

“I’ll make an exception for that creepy little bastard as long he stays outside in the fuckin’ downspout where he belongs,” her husband grumbled, clearly trying to look peeved and failing, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth even as he scowled.

Poppy’s smile grew wider as she arched a brow. “You couldn’t think of anything else, could you?”

“Look, it was either the fuckin’ spider or Baby Shark, and for once, a creepy ass bug with way too many damn legs was definitely the better option,” Tora huffed with his best grouchy, put upon Big Bro scowl. “Why do kids songs have to be so goddamn weird, Bobby? The fact that there’s more than one about fuckin' spiders, and none about dinosaurs is just wrong.”

Poppy couldn’t help but giggle at his genuinely aggrieved expression, the heaviness in her chest lifting just enough to let the bubble of mirth rise out of her. “Pfft, such a dork. And a potty mouth.”

Tora pulled her in tight against him, dipping his head to plant his lips on her head, forcing her face down as he muttered into her hair, “Your potty mouth dork.”

“Yes, but you’re gonna have to work on that, you know,” Poppy said, tapping his chest reprovingly.

Tora snorted. “Yeah, once Lily actually graduates to knowing what words are, Bobby. I think I’m still safe singing my version for a little while longer. Seein' as how she hasn't even figured out she's got opposable thumbs yet,” he said, lifting a hand to wiggle his fingers in Poppy’s face.

She playfully snapped her teeth once at his thumb, not actually trying to get it, before raising her brows to give him what he called her “disapproving hamster boss” look. “Do I even want to know how many swear words are in your version?”

“No, but it’s a hell of a lot more fun, I’ll tell ya that much. Goliath even helped with some of it. Still rhymes and everything.”

Poppy shook her head at what Tora and his brother did for fun. "I'm not even going to ask when that happened."

Tora shrugged, trying and failing to look nonchalant as he absently rubbed at the side of his neck where his clan tattoo used to be. "May have called 'im up once or twice while you were gone,” he said like it was no big deal, like he and Goliath hadn’t practically almost killed each other multiple times last fall.

Tora had let his brother think he was dead for almost three years, despite Poppy repeatedly prodding him to reach out in some way. The only reason they’d finally gotten back in touch was because Quincey had slipped up just enough for Goliath to figure out that it wasn’t Tora’s ashes buried in that cemetery just outside Narin City. The unexpected family reunion that occurred when a boiling mad Goliath suddenly showed up outside Tora’s work without warning at the end of last October had…not gone well, to put it mildly. Poppy was just thankful her husband wasn’t in the habit of carrying a gun anymore.

The brothers only started communicating directly again after Lily was born, and that had barely been civil, mostly just short, blunt text messages. So the fact that Tora had actually called Goliath and for something so…silly said a lot. 

Before Poppy could comment on it or press for more details, Tora crookedly smiled at her, shrugging a shoulder. “But it got ya to smile and actually laugh a little, so putting up with that whiny little shithead was worth it."

She smiled and huffed a laugh at that, laying her ear over Tora's heart as she gave him a grateful squeeze, silently telling him she understood he didn’t want to go into the full story just then. Her husband hummed approvingly, hugging her flush against him before he ran a hand up and down her back in long, slow strokes.

They stood there in companionable silence for a couple minutes, listening to the soft hissing whoosh of the baby monitor, the quietness of their home wrapping around them like a second embrace. Tora's other hand was warm and grounding where it rested on Poppy's low back.

"You know you're not your mom, right?" he said out of nowhere. The matter of fact, carefully enunciated sentence shot straight through Poppy's heart as she stiffened in shock. Startled, she stared wide eyed up at her sharply perceptive husband, his gaze capturing hers as he added, "And you're not your granny either."

Poppy’s mouth silently formed around the start of several different sentences before she clamped her lips shut, knowing any protest on her part was pointless; Tora had seen right through her yet again. The man who claimed he wasn’t any good with emotions and was supposedly clueless about “normal” family dynamics had nailed it right on the head as usual. How did he always fudging do that?!

Tora inclined his head slightly to one side and raised his eyebrows at Poppy, clearly giving her a moment to let the truth of what he’d said sink in.

“I mean, yeah, but–” Poppy started, finally finding the words, a whole list already forming in her head of all the worst ways she was exactly like her mother and grandmother.

Tora gently but firmly pinched her lips together, cutting off any argument before it could even start. “Nope, no buts. The only butt allowed is this one,” he said, his lips curling into a devilish smirk on the last word as he gave her butt a firm squeeze with his other hand. “Mm, yup, that one can stay. Still sexy as hell.”

Poppy rolled her eyes before leveling an unamused look at her handsy perv of a husband. She knew he was just trying to make her feel better, because her butt, along with the rest of her body, had certainly seen far perkier days. Crap on a cracker, she couldn’t even remember when she’d last properly washed her hair, and the old t-shirt of his she’d put on was inside out for cripe sake. Sexy was the last word she'd use to describe her current appearance just then. Bedraggled and slumming it, sure, but definitely not sexy.

As if reading her mind yet again, Tora replaced his fingers with his lips, giving her a light peck. When he went to deepen the kiss, Poppy quickly turned her head, Tora’s lips skating over her cheek instead.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” she said.

Tora palmed the side of her face, pushing her mouth back towards his. “Do I look like I care?”

“My face and hair are all grimy,” Poppy protested, still trying to lean back.

“Looks fine to me,” Tora said, his lips brushing over hers as his immovable hand kept her face forward.

“My pants are dirty.”

“Well, good thing I’m not trying to kiss those then.”

“Tora,” she said in exasperation.

“Poppylan,” he said, matching her tone while doing an exaggerated imitation of her peeved expression.

“Why are you even trying to kiss me? I couldn’t tell you the last time I took a decent shower. My socks don’t match, I just realized I somehow put this shirt on both inside out and backwards, and I'm not even wearing a bra. Oh, and I’m pretty sure there’s baby puke on me too. I’m grubby and–and gross,” Poppy sputtered, waving her hands around at each area for emphasis. “Don’t feel like you have to kiss me just to make me feel better. I feel like a pile of hot garbage right now, and I know I look even worse.”

“Oh for fuck sake…” Tora muttered under his breath before he took her face in both of his hands and kissed her firmly. He swept his tongue into her mouth as he palmed the back of her head with one hand, roughly grabbing her butt with the other to pull her flush against him.

In spite of her protests, Poppy couldn’t help but melt at the feel of Tora all around her, his hands holding her tight, the heat of his mouth hungrily exploring hers. It had been far too long since they’d shared a kiss as passionate as this, and darn it, she’d missed it. 

Her balled up hands loosened and then flattened out on Tora’s chest before she grabbed onto his shirt in surprise as he scooped her up off the floor and into his arms. Her startled squeak was muffled by his mouth on hers, her husband coordinated and strong enough to not break their kiss even as he lifted her up onto the counter and guided her arms around his neck.

“Show off,” Poppy muttered against his mouth.

“Ya like it,” Tora said, sealing his lips back over hers before she could say anything else. He took his time exploring her mouth, expertly tilting her head to a better angle so he could deepen their kiss.

Poppy happily sighed, her hands sliding up into Tora’s hair, the long, dark strands as soft and silky as ever. She fisted a handful and gave a little tug, which had Tora practically purring into her mouth, his hands coming down to grip just above her knees.

He broke away only to close his eyes and lean his forehead against hers. She was satisfied to note his breathing was just as fast as hers. Tora trailed his palms from Poppy’s thighs to her waist, pausing to lightly trace the curve of the underside of her breasts with his thumbs before continuing up to cup her face in both hands once more.

“Kiss ya just to make you feel better? Tch, I’m not that selfless, Bobby. I kiss ya cuz I fuckin’ want to. Cuz I like ya. Cuz I love ya for being you, ” he said, his voice a low, fierce growl. He opened his eyes, gold filling Poppy’s vision as he stared hard at her, their noses pressed together. 

“We’ve been together for over six years now, Sweetheart, and I still can’t get enough of ya. Fuckin’ ballsy ass hamster. You could wear a paper bag, and I'd still be all over ya. Doesn’t matter what your damn hair looks like or if ya got mornin’ breath. I sure as shit didn't get a whole entire leg sleeve of poppies in honor of your hair, or even the best pair of tits I've ever seen. Ya stuck with my dumb ass through all that clan shit, me almost dying on ya, picking up and moving clear across the country when ya didn’t have to. And if that wasn’t more than I could ever possibly deserve, ya went and gave me the best early birthday present in my whole damn life and made me a dad.”

Poppy’s lip trembled as she felt herself tearing up again. Tora gave her a crooked smile as he thumbed at the corners of her eyes before giving her a gentle peck on the tip of her nose. “I do not give one single, solitary, flying fuck what ya are or aren’t wearing right now,” he said before brushing a tender kiss across her lips. One side of his mouth curled up as he leaned back a little, making a show of looking her up and down. “I do like when ya put my clothes on, it’s cute as hell. Though it’s even better when ya take ‘em off.”

Poppy shakily giggled as Tora smirked at her, one of those obscene dimples of his coming out. His playful expression fell away as he clasped both of Poppy’s shoulders, pushing her back just enough so he could look her full in the face. 

“Look, I’m not saying you’re perfect, or that your mom didn’t fuck up and leave ya with a heaping pile of baggage, or that ya can’t still be fuckin’ pissed at her, Sweetheart. And the fact that your gran kept the truth about your own family from ya for almost two decades was real goddamn shitty. Hell, I’m still fuckin’ pissed about that one, and especially how ya finally found out. Ya got hurt real bad by the people who shoulda done better by ya, and if ya never wanted kids of your own, I woulda been behind ya 100%.”

Tora tapped the center of Poppy’s chest as he went on, “But ya didn’t let their fuck ups change who ya are in here. I’m proud of ya for not letting ‘em determine who ya want to be or how ya live your life. In spite of all that crap, and all the extra bullshit ya gotta deal with bein’ married to me, ya still went and had a little hamster cub with my stupid ass.”

“Tiger cub,” Poppy reflexively said.

“What?”

“We had a tiger cub together. Because Lily’s all you. She doesn't even look like she belongs to me.”

Tora did one of his near silent chuckles. “Pfft, pfft, oh, I dunno about that, Bobby. Sure, she’s got my looks and all, but our daughter is 100% pure grade A, feisty pants hamster on the inside. I dunno how that tiny little body can hold that much sass already, and she’s not even four months old yet. Did ya know,” he said, leaning in and lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I told her a joke the other day, and she blew a fuckin’ raspberry at me and then shit her fuckin’ pants while maintaining direct eye contact the whole damn time. If that’s not the sassy hamster side right there, I dunno what is.”

Poppy couldn't help but giggle at the hilarious image he'd just painted. Her husband, the former boss level thug, one of the Balthuman elite, the once famed legend of Ares Street himself, in all his tattooed glory…getting in a staring contest with an infant...and losing.

Just like with her tears a few minutes ago, Poppy couldn't stop laughing once she started, another slew of dammed up emotion suddenly bursting free. She clutched Tora's shirt for support as she folded forward, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes once more as she pressed her forehead into his shoulder. Her whole body shook from her quiet but uncontrollable giggles. It was stupid and beyond ridiculous, but oh, it felt good to laugh like that again.

Poppy finally managed to catch her breath, the fit of wheezing laughter subsiding into hiccuping bubbles of giggles as she swiped at her eyes. "God, you must think I'm completely unhinged right now," she said only somewhat half-joking.

Tora lifted her head up to thumb away her tears again. “Nope, not even close,” he said with quiet sincerity. “What I do think is that you’re strong as hell, and you’ve been trying to deal with way too damn much on your own. There’s only so much shit ya can keep bottled inside before it starts to come out sideways.”

Poppy huffed a laugh at that. “Thank you for the as usual profanity laden insight, Dr. Phil.”

“I’ll add it to my bill,” Tora quipped before his face grew more serious again. “Poppylan, just cuz there was a part of ya that wanted to leave doesn’t make ya a bad wife and mom. Hell, there’s plenty of days I’m happy to go to work or the gym or run errands for ya just to get outta the house for a bit and be around other adults. That’s not us being bad parents. That’s just called being normal human beings who need a fuckin’ break every now and then. Taking care of a baby is way more work than I ever thought it’d be, there’s no shame in needing some time to yourself to recharge.”

Poppy ducked her head, fiddling with Tora’s wedding ring where his hand now rested on her thigh. “But I left, and there was a part of me that didn’t want to come back,” she whispered. “You always come home, and you’re so happy about it, and you’re just…so much better with Lily than I am. You did fine without me for ten whole days. I would’ve fallen apart entirely and been totally useless before the end of day two if it was just me. You don’t even need me.”

Tora barked out an incredulous laugh as he shook his head. “Jesus, Bobby, is that what ya really think?” He rubbed at his face before raking his hands back through his hair when she stayed silent in answer.

Tora started to tightly pace in front of her. “Yeah, I took care of Lily for a week and a half. Because she’s my daughter, and I would do anything for you and that little hamster cub of ours. Ya needed me to step up like that so you could focus on being there for your granny. But I was fuckin’ petrified the whole damn time that I was gonna fuck up somehow,” he admitted before stilling in front of Poppy as he said even more quietly, “I went and saw Chris twice while you were gone, and probably called Alice half a dozen times every single day . The old bat got real damn sick of hearin’ my voice, and said I don’t have the brains god gave a fiddler crab…but she still took all my stupid ass calls. Cuz that’s what family does for each other.”

Tora braced his hands on Poppy’s shoulders, searching her face as if he didn’t quite believe she didn’t already know all of that. “Bobby, I have no idea what the hell I’m doin’ half the time, and the other half is me mostly guessing or just winging it.”

Poppy’s mouth dropped open before she could stop it. “But–but you’re so good with Lily! She hardly cries for you, and–and you can get her to fall asleep so darn fast! You can change her way faster than I ever can. And she actually seems to enjoy bathtime when you do it. You’re so just much better at all of this than I am. And she definitely likes you more than me,” she insisted, ticking each point off on her fingers as she went.

Tora gently took Poppy’s hand in his, bringing their joined hands to his heart as he stepped in closer again. “Sweetheart, I swear on every last useless ancestor I’ve got that I have no fuckin’ clue what I’m doing most days. I have nothing to compare this whole being a husband and father thing to except for that sick son of a bitch rotting in hell where he belongs. And that’s a real fuckin’ low bar to clear. I dunno how many counseling sessions I’ve spent over the past year tryin’ to figure out what the hell I’m doing or who I wanna be for you and Lily. I never–” he cut off, looking down at their hands.

Tora lifted his left hand, his wedding band catching the light and glimmering as he tapped his thumb against it. “I never thought I’d live long enough to get this, let alone have a kid of my own,” he said softly. “All those years, never thought about it even once, because that would just be a stupid fuckin’ waste of time. Like the Tiger of Ares Street could get married and have a fuckin’ family,” he spat, shaking his head. 

“I could barely handle all of that myself. Sure as shit wasn’t gonna dump that kind of a life on some poor, defenseless kid who didn’t have any choice about who they were born to. And I swore I’d never turn anyone into a walking target because I was stupid enough to put a ring on their finger or reproduce with ‘em. As if any woman in her right mind would want that with me anyway. Not the big, dangerous, tatted up thug. Good for a quick fuck, sure, but not the guy ya wanna bring home to meet the parents…or grandparent in your case,” he said.

Tora’s mouth twisted into a lopsided, forlorn smile as he kept his gaze focused on Poppy’s hand, twisting her wedding ring around her finger. “But you… pfft, my loud, nosy, chickenshit, Chief Executive Hamster grabbing life by the balls. Went and got a goddamn ring made for me and fuckin’ asked me to marry ya when I wasn’t worth shit. Couldn’t even sit up for ya properly. Feisty ass hamster with your giant fuckin’ balls of steel. If I hadn’t already been laying down, ya definitely woulda knocked me flat right then and there.”

Tora flicked his gaze up to meet Poppy’s as he laced his fingers between hers. “I was in pretty bad shape when ya proposed, Sweetheart. Think I was still shittin’ in a pan at that point, cuz I couldn’t even walk on my own to the fuckin’ toilet less than ten feet away.”

Poppy’s mouth quirked up. “Yeah, it…wasn’t really the best time for either of us, but I didn’t want to wait,” she said softly, swallowing down the lump suddenly forming in her throat. That was putting it lightly. It had been awful, all her worst nightmares coming true in the worst possible way.

Tora hadn’t just been in rough shape. He’d almost died multiple times in one night, coding more than once before he slowly mended, spending well over a month in the hospital until he’d finally been discharged. Even over four years later, it was still hard to think about and not something she liked talking about. But there were a few good moments sprinkled in among the long, trying days she’d spent sitting by his bed in that depressingly grey hospital room. 

Grabbing onto one memory in particular, Poppy’s smirk grew as she said, “I’m honestly surprised they let you have a knife to whittle those wood animals you were so obsessed with making.”

Tora dropped his head back with a groan. “Ah fuck, don’t remind me, Bobby. Still can’t believe ya actually let me give that shoddy crap to you and the thuglets.”

“And the doctors. And all your nurses. And the janitor who emptied your trash,” Poppy said with a shit eating grin.

Tora shook his head as he looked down at their joined hands again with an embarrassed smile, a dusting of pink tinging his cheeks. “God, I fuckin’ hate being on pain meds. Can’t even remember most of that. The clearest thing I got is mostly just you being there. Oh, and yellin’ at me to stay the fuck in bed and keep my damn IV in, or swear to god, you were gonna strangle me yourself with those stupid fudging hospital slipper socks.”

Poppy arched an eyebrow. “Riiiight. Because that’s definitely how that happened.”

Tora grinned at her, momentarily flashing his dimples. “Okay, maybe I’m paraphrasing just a bit there. But ya get what I mean, Bobby. Did ya love me any less when I couldn’t even hold my own dick to take a proper piss or look at ya straight?”

“No,” she whispered hoarsely, her smile dropping away. “I just kept thinking how I’d almost lost you. That there was no one else I could ever imagine being married to. And how much I wanted to have a family with you someday, if we made it that far.”

Tora squeezed her fingers, pressing their clasped hands harder against his sternum. “And here we are, making it that far.”

As if on cue, Lily started fussing, the baby monitor crackling and echoing through the kitchen with the sudden influx of unhappy baby noises, the video feed showing she was definitely awake now.

“Alright, c’mere, Sweetheart,” Tora said, lifting Poppy off the counter and setting her on her feet before he gave her butt a full two handed squeeze. “Hey now, watch it, kid. Ya get one for the road, Bobby, but Jesus, stop being all handsy and shit, we got a baby to take care of.”

Poppy rolled her eyes and shook her head as Tora took her hand and started leading them out of the kitchen. He suddenly stopped mid-stride and then backed up. “Hold up a sec, she’ll be fine for a minute. Got something to show ya,” he said, turning them around to face the calendar.

“Tora, wha– oh,” Poppy breathed as he lifted the calendar to show July. The month was already half over, and she’d been kicking herself for completely falling off the baby milestone record keeping. She’d assumed July was entirely void of any notes due to her inability to flip the stupid page. But Tora hadn’t been idle in her absence. 

Poppy stepped in close, tracing over each entry with a finger as she felt herself getting misty eyed yet again, though she didn’t mind as much this time.

Lily definitely tried to say “mama” today.

Lily smiled and kicked like crazy before rolling over and looking at the doorway when Mommy called out she was home.

Lily was able to sit on her own in the boppy pillow for half a minute before she tipped over.

Lily enjoys Mommy’s singing over Daddy’s.

Mommy always gets a special smile when she says Lily’s name.

“Does she really?” Poppy asked with a shaky sniffle, tapping the final entry.

Tora’s eyebrows pinched together as he looked in confusion from the calendar to Poppy. “Of course she does. Ya haven’t noticed?”

Poppy silently shook her head before Tora took her hand again, leading her to Lily’s room. Their baby girl was kicking vigorously and punching at the air as she fussed, not quite full-on crying just yet. 

Tora pulled Poppy up next to him in the doorway, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Okay, watch her face when each of us says her name.”

“Hey, Lily girl, how’s my little fighting hamster doin’ today?” he cooed. Lily’s face immediately uncrumpled and she gummily grinned, kicking even more as she twisted to focus on where Tora and Poppy still stood, letting loose a stream of baby gurgles and happy babble.

Tora nudged Poppy and tilted his head towards the crib. “Hey, Lily, did you have a nice nap–” Poppy didn’t even get to finish before all of Lily’s limbs stuck straight up into the air as she shrieked at the top of her lungs.

Poppy started to turn to Tora in defeat, but he kept her looking forward to watch their baby girl go nuts. Lily wildly kicked and flung her arms around as she…beamed and then laughed, shrieking again in what Poppy suddenly realized was an enthusiastic cry of utter delight.

“Told ya,” Tora simply said as he gave Poppy a gently push toward the crib. “She doesn’t usually do it quite that dramatically, but yeah, she definitely knows who mom is and absolutely likes ya.”

Poppy huffed a quiet, disbelieving laugh and shook her head as she reached into the crib, Lily intently locking onto her face as she leaned down. Lily started rooting at Poppy’s chest before she was fully in Poppy’s arms, loudly demanding her lunch.

“I think she just saves the noise for ya, because you’re both such chatty hamsters,” Tora said as he helped Poppy get set up in the recliner next to the crib, expertly slipped the nursing pillow underneath Lily. “She probably looks at me and goes, ‘Yeah, that big dumb mofo can’t talk for shit,’ and settles for tryin’ to rip my hair out as fast as she can.”

Poppy laughed more fully at that as she quickly lifted her shirt for Lily to greedily latch on. “You really need to work on that potty mouth of yours, you know,” she said without any heat in her voice. “I don’t want our daughter’s first sentence including swear words or even worse, something like, ‘I’m a celebrity.’”

Tora snorted. “Yeah, yeah, you’re one to talk there, Miss Nice Husky Voice. I bet ya say that to all the guys who catch your crazy hamster ass fallin’ outta old, rotting trees.”

“Ah yes, right before immediately blinding me, because they’re too embarrassed to let me see their face,” Poppy absently teased, still focused on watching Lily’s face. Did her baby really smile differently just for her?

Poppy experimentally hummed a few bars of the Itsy Bitsy Spider as Tora grumbled under his breath, quickly rewarded for her effort when Lily looked up at her and paused feeding to gurgle and grin.

“See, that’s what I’m talkin’ about right there,” Tora said, nodding at Lily.

“Oh, she smiles for you too,” Poppy protested, still not quite believing she’d missed such a clear sign of recognition from her own child.

“Yeah, not like that. And she definitely doesn’t enjoy my singing as much,” Tora said before he loudly hummed the same tune. Poppy had to bite back a laugh at the absolute unimpressed side eye Lily directed in her dad’s direction.

She’d always swooned at Tora’s singing, but their little tiger cub apparently didn’t share the sentiment. For being just a few days shy of four months old, their daughter already had her daddy’s glare of disapproval down pat. Lily unamusedly squinted at Tora until he stopped and broke into his quiet pfft, pfft laugh.

“Think that’s another one for the calendar right there, Bobby. First time Lily told me to shut it without even being able to talk yet,” Tora said with a chuckle as he folded his arms and leaned back against the changing table.

Poppy smiled as she gazed down at their daughter going back to hungrily sucking away. She tenderly traced a finger over one of Lily’s dark curls, her hair the same midnight black as Tora’s. 

Midnight. A conversation she’d had in Moonbright suddenly popped into her mind, one of the few genuinely good ones, though far too brief before they’d gotten interrupted by yet another nosy busybody.

“Oh, I saw June when I was back ho–in Moonbright,” Poppy said, annoyed that she’d started saying ‘home’ yet again. “She asked how life was with a newborn and told me some fun stories from when I was a baby that I hadn’t heard before. And then she wanted to know how my ‘midnight rendezvous’ was treating me these days.”

Tora stiffened, his fingers freezing around his biceps. “Whadidya say?” he asked, his Narin City accent suddenly rushing to the surface in full force telling her plenty.

Poppy shifted, adjusting Lily into a better position as she said, “I told her I couldn’t ask for a better one, and I wouldn’t change a single thing. And then she said that clearly I’m happier than I ever was with, and I quote, ‘that unseasoned poorly baked potato everyone around here acts like pisses rainbows.’ And that if anyone bothered to pull their heads out of their asses and pay attention, they’d be able to see that too. I told her she was 100% correct, and I wish I could properly introduce you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. Told her I even get late night serenades sometimes, because I married a real life celebrity.”

“Pfft, pfft, sassy little shit. You're never gonna let that one go, are ya?”

“Nope,” Poppy said, popping the p. “Out of all the things you could’ve said and you went with that.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Hmm, I dunno, I think you might need to prove your singing chops with another round of Itsy Bitsy Spider. The normal version,” Poppy said archly.

“Nah, I got a better one,” Tora said as he stepped closer. He took Poppy’s free hand as he turned to the side. “If ya happy and ya know it, pat the butt,” he said more than sang, Poppy immediately giggling as he indeed patted his butt with her open hand. “If ya happy and ya know it, pat the butt. If ya happy and ya know it, and the hamster boss really needs to know it, if ya happy and ya know it, pat the butt.”

“Yeah, you’re not teaching that one to our daughter either.”

“Don’t worry, Bobby, that one’s special just for you. Along with some other things,” Tora said with a suggestive eyebrow waggle, raking his gaze up and down Poppy’s body before he gave her a flirty grin.

“I feel so honored,” she said flatly. “Next thing I know, you’ll have a power ballad about my boobs.”

Tora dramatically gasped and slapped a hand over his heart. “Ah damn, how’d ya know that’s what I was gonna do for our anniversary? Now ya ruined it, and I’ll have to go with something boring, like flowers or some shit. It was gonna be to the tune of My Heart Will Go On, since the hamster tits are off limits for now and I miss playin’ with ‘em. Didn’t even hafta change the lyrics that much.”

“You were talking to Quincey while I was gone, weren’t you?”

“Maybe. The guys at work might’ve helped a little with that one too…”

“Tora!”

Her husband threw up his hands in front of him as he playfully grinned. “Kidding! Just kidding. Quincey obviously had more than enough to offer. Did ya know ships rhymes with tits?”

“Okay, I know for a fact that word is definitely not in the song,” Poppy said, her turn now to squint disapprovingly at her husband.

“Says the non-celebrity in the family. I think we need to refer to the judge here. What’s our hamster cub think?”

“Well, if that rumble on my arm was any indication, the tiger cub judge just made it very clear she does not agree with you. So, your objection is overruled, good sir, and you are on tap for diaper changing duty.”

“Aw, c’mon, kid, don’t turn on your old man like that, ya liked the Itsy Bitsy Spider Is An Asshole just fine last week! Your uncle and I worked really hard on this one too. Now you’ll never get to hear what we rhymed with ‘hamster booty,’ and that’s the real tragedy right there.”

Poppy rolled her eyes and shook her head as she switched Lily to her other breast. Once their daughter had a good latch and was hungrily sucking away again, Poppy kept her eyes down as she softly said, “Thank you.”

Tora tilted his head to one side. “For what?”

“For everything. And especially for helping me see that maybe I don’t suck as bad as I thought at this whole being a mom thing.”

“You’re welcome, Sweetheart. And remember, it’s not like I know what I’m doin’ here either. I just do whatever makes sense for you and Lily and go from there. Sometimes that’s changin’ poopy diapers and combing your hair and telling ya how much I appreciate ya. And sometimes that means telling ya how sexy you are and groping your ass.”

“Oh my god, Tora! You're ridiculous. And insatiable."

"Birds of a feather, Bobby. Birds of a fuckin' feather."

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Maybe home is nothing but two arms holding you tight when you're at your worst.