cozy
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At four in the morning, the babies sleep, the house belongs to silence, and Honey kneads the weight of the night out of a tired lap.
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Once the babies finally sleep, Honey claims the quiet hours, curling close as though she has been waiting for exhaustion to make room for her.
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Myst knows nothing about the past; she only knows these hands are gentle, this bed is warm, and closing her eyes here is safe.
