134

Morning light spilled through the compound kitchen windows, pale and gentle, the kind that made everything feel briefly uncomplicated. Carol stood at the counter with a mug of coffee she'd reheated twice and still forgotten to drink. Her left hand rested flat against the surface, fingers splayed, the sapphire ring catching the sunlight every time she shifted. She was still staring at it when she felt a tug. A very determined tug. Carol looked down just in time to see Morgan's tiny fingers closing around the ring, grip surprisingly strong for someone who still couldn't walk without assistance.

"Oh—hey," Carol said quickly, lifting her hand just out of reach. "Nice try, kid." Morgan protested immediately, a loud, indignant babble, arms reaching again like she'd spotted buried treasure. Athena laughed from the table. "Careful. She thinks it's hers." "I mean," Carol said, crouching so she was eye level with her, "you did help with the proposal." Morgan slapped her hands together, delighted by the attention.

Natasha, already halfway through her tea, watched the exchange over the rim of her cup. There was something soft in her eyes she made no effort to hide. "She likes shiny things," Natasha said mildly. "Inherited." Carol smiled, gently redirecting Morgan's hands away from the ring and offering her a spoon instead. Morgan accepted it immediately, gnawing on it like it was the better prize anyway.

Athena crossed the room and slid an arm around Carol's waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. "Still real?" Carol nodded, breathless smile never leaving her face. "Still real." From the doorway, Sam snapped a quick picture on her phone. "For the scrapbook," she said innocently. Carol groaned. "There's a scrapbook?" "Oh, there will be," Sam replied. Morgan banged the spoon against the table triumphantly, grinning like she'd orchestrated the whole thing. And for a moment—just a moment—the world felt exactly right.