As decided donato and enzo while staying tonight with the old couple and aria, nova. Aria led her dad inside, practically bouncing with excitement, tugging at his hand.

"Come, Dad, I'll show you the whole house. You haven't seen it yet, right? You were earning money in the city, so you never saw it." She kept talking, barely pausing for breath, and that one line snagged something in Donato's chest. Earning money in the city.

So that was what she'd believed all this time. That was the story she'd built to explain a father who never came. I'm so sorry, baby, he thought, watching her small feet hurry ahead of him through the hallway.

You shouldn't have had to grow up believing that. None of this should have happened to you at all. If I'd just listened to Kiara that day. If I hadn't trusted Rose the way I did my Kiara would still be with me right now, and you'd have grown up knowing exactly who your father was, in a real home, with both of us.

Enzo trailed a few steps behind, quiet for once, watching the two of them with something soft settled over his face. Finally, he thought. Finally, my darling gets his family back. Thank you, whatever's out there, for giving him this.

"Dad, come, I'll show you my room." Aria tugged him down the narrow hallway and pushed open a door at the end of it--the room she shared with her mother. The room was nothing like the ones Donato had grown up watching Kiara move through-- nothing like the wing she'd had in the Rajput haveli before their marriage.

nothing like the Romano mansion's guest suites, all marble floors and imported furniture. This room was small. Simple. A single window with a faded curtain, a wooden dresser with a few chipped edges, a shelf crowded with mismatched toys. But it had something those grander rooms never quite managed-- a kind of warmth that settled into the walls themselves.

the unmistakable feeling of a space that had been lived in gently, loved in, made safe by two people who cared for each other fiercely inside it. "This is my bed mama's too," Aria announced, climbing onto it and bouncing once for emphasis. ''but sometimes I sleep with granny when it's raining because I don't like the thunder. She lets me even though Granny says I'm getting too big for that."

She hopped back down and dragged a wooden crate out from under the bed, tipping it over so a small avalanche of toys spilled across the floor--a stuffed rabbit missing one ear, a set of wooden blocks, a doll with yarn hair that had clearly been re-braided many times.

"This is Bunny." She held up the one-eared rabbit with real reverence. "Granny gave him to me when I was two. He used to have two ears but I chewed one off when I was a baby, Mama says. I don't remember doing that but everyone says I did."

She set Bunny down carefully and picked up the doll instead. "And this is Coco. She used to have real hair but I cut it once with the kitchen scissors and Mama was so mad, but then she braided what was left and now it looks like this and I like it better anyway."

She kept going, barely giving Donato room to respond to any of it, pulling out a drawing next--a lopsided sun, a house with too many windows, three stick figures holding hands in front of it.

"I drew this at school today. That's me, that's Mama, and that one-she pointed at the third figure, taller than the other two, with a scribble of brown hair--that's you. I didn't know what you looked like before, so I just guessed. Miss Carla said it was a nice guess." She held it up proudly.

"Now I know your eyes are supposed to be green, so next time I'll color them right." Donato had to look away for a second, blinking hard, before he trusted his voice again. "It's a beautiful drawing," he managed. "You got the house right too."

"That's our house." She nodded seriously. "I want you to see the kitchen too, and the garden behind the café where Grandpa grows tomatoes, and my school, you have to see my school, and Theo, he's my friend, he has a dog, maybe you can meet the dog too.

She was already moving on to the next thing, practically vibrating with everything she wanted to show him, all of it tumbling out faster than she could organize it. "And there's a lake near here, Granny takes me sometimes, and I want to show you where I feed the ducks.

and I want you to come to my school and meet Miss Carla because she said parents can visit sometimes, and I want everyone to see that I really do have a dad now, because Bella at school said maybe I was lying about you, when i told her that i have green eyes because my dad has too. But she didnt bleave and now I can prove I wasn't-

She finally paused for breath, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "Are you going to stay long enough to do all of that?"

Donato knelt down in front of her, throat tight, and reached out to smooth back a piece of hair that had fallen loose from her braid. "I want to," he said, quiet and honest. "I want to do all of it. Every single thing."

"Promise?"

He hesitated only a second--long enough to feel the full weight of what he was about to say, knowing there was still a test tomorrow, still a mother in the next room who didn't remember loving him, still five years of distance that couldn't be undone in one evening--and then he said it anyway, because some part of him needed her to have this much certainty, at least. "I promise, baby."
______

In the kitchen, Nova and the old woman were already working-- the kind of dinner nobody had planned for, but the kind everyone had secretly hoped for anyway, in the back of their minds, for years. That someday Nova's family would come looking. That someday they'd find her. And now, finally, they had.

Nova's husband. Standing in the next room, right now, letting her daughter drag him from toy to toy. She stood at the sink washing chicken pieces, methodical, avoiding thinking too hard about any of it, when the old woman bumped her shoulder gently against hers.

"Well," she said, "Aria wasn't wrong about one thing, at least."

"What's that, aunty?" Nova kept her eyes on the chicken.

"That her father's handsome. Look at that man--what did he say his name was, Do-Donato, yes, Donato. Handsome. Aria clearly takes after good taste." She grinned, nudging her again. "Your husband's genuinely handsome, Kiara."

She used the real name that time. Nova paused mid-motion.
"It's not confirmed yet, aunty, that he's Aria's father. Or my husband. Or that anything he's said is true."

"Oh, please." The old woman rolled her eyes. "Nova. Are you actually this thick skull, or are you just pretending?"

"What?" Nova blinked at her.

"I mean, have you not looked at their faces? Aria and Donato? They're the same face, practically. Aria's is just softer, rounder, because she's a child. But even so--anyone with eyes would take one look and know he's her father. You don't even need the DNA test, honestly."

Nova set the chicken down and let out a slow breath. "You're right, aunty. I noticed it too." She was quiet for a moment. "And I don't think Mr. Donato is lying. I saw his eyes when he was talking about his wife. That wasn't performance. If he's telling the truth if I really am his Kiara--that's a good thing. Aria gets her father. That's all that matters to me. I just want my daughter to be happy."

"And you?" The old woman studied her. "Wouldn't you be happy too, if he really is your husband?"

"I don't know, aunty." Nova's hands stilled in the sink. "I have so many questions. If I really am his wife, then how did he not know I was pregnant? Why couldn't he find me for five years? What was I even doing alone in that forest? What actually happened to me back then, that led me all the way here?"

She exhaled. "I need to know everything. Tomorrow, after the results, I'm going to ask Mr. Donato for the whole truth. Only after that can I decide anything."

The old woman took her hand, gently. "You're right to want that. It's your right to know the truth, whatever it turns out to be. Whatever you decide after that, I'm with you. Just remember Aria's in the middle of this too. That little girl has lived five years without her father, and now she's found him.

So whatever you decide, don't do anything that pulls him away from her again." Nova nodded slowly, throat tight. "Alright, alright." The old woman clapped her hands together, breaking the moment on purpose. "Let's cook faster, or Miss Aria will come storming in here demanding to know why dinner isn't ready for her father yet."

Both women laughed, and Nova got back to marinating the chicken while the old woman started working the dough for the buns. "So, Kiara." The old woman glanced sideways, grinning. "Cooking for your husband again, after five years."

Nova flushed. "Aunty," she groaned.

"What? I'm sure you used to cook for him back then too. He looks like a proper, doting husband."

"Who knows if he'll even like village food, aunty." Nova kept her eyes on the marinade. "Judging by his suit, he's some kind of businessman. Men like that, city people, rich people--they don't usually like simple village cooking."

"Don't worry about that." A third voice cut in, and both women turned to see Enzo leaning in the kitchen doorway. "Your husband is completely obsessed with you, Kiara. You could serve him half-marinated chicken and undercooked rice, and he'd still call it the best meal he's ever had in his life."

A deep blush crept up Nova's face, and she looked away quickly. The old woman and Enzo exchanged an amused glance. "Do you need something, son?" the old woman asked.

"Yes, actually-- could I get some water?"

"Of course, wait a moment." She went to the fridge, pulled out a bottle, and handed it over. Enzo thanked her and wandered off toward the living room, where the father-daughter pair had settled after their tour of the house. Aria was perched happily on Donato's lap, fingers exploring the edge of his beard with great concentration.

"Daddy," she said.

"Yes, baby?" Donato looked down at her.

"You're really handsome." She kept studying his face. "I'm going to take you on a tour of the whole village and show everyone. You're the most handsome man here. Everyone's going to be so jealous." She giggled.

"They're already jealous because Aria has green eyes--did you know nobody in this whole village has green eyes except Aria? And now Aria's daddy has them too. I'm going to show everyone."

Donato and Enzo both laughed at that.

"God, Donato," Enzo said, dropping into the chair across from them. "Your daughter's obsessed with you already, just like her mother apparently was. She's got your face, but she's got Kiara's whole heart when it comes to loving you. I can already tell we've got two of them in the competition now."

Aria turned to study Enzo properly for the first time. "Is this man your friend, Dad?"

"Yes, baby. He's my best friend."

"Oh." She extended a small hand toward him with great formality. "Hi. I'm Aria. I started school today, but I already know how to read. I know one hundred numbers. And the alphabet. My mama taught me all of it. I know how to write my name, and Mama's name, and Grandpa's, and Granny's names too."

She glanced back at Donato. "I'm going to learn to write your name too, Dad. I didn't know it before, since I didn't know your name." She pulled her hand back just as Enzo reached to shake it, leaving him staring at his own empty palm, thoroughly bewildered.

She's fierce, Enzo thought, half-laughing to himself. Handling her and Elian together is going to be an actual disaster. Oh god. What happens when the two of them are ever in the same room. They're both walking volcanoes.
______

Once dinner was ready, Nova and the old woman laid the table together, the same as they did every evening. Most nights Aria helped too, carrying napkins over one at a time with great seriousness, but tonight there was no sign of her at all--she was occupied elsewhere, sitting on her father's lap in the next room, entirely too pleased with the arrangement to think about napkins.

Once the table was set, the old man called Donato and Enzo in, and two extra chairs were pulled up to what was normally a small, quiet family table. They settled in, and Donato glanced toward the kitchen doorway, where Nova was still moving around finishing something.

She came out a moment later carrying a bowl of dessert, setting it down at the center of the table, and then paused, looking over at Aria still perched on Donato's lap.

"Aria, come sit in your own chair." She pointed to the small chair beside her own, the one Aria always used.

"No, Mama." Aria shook her head, arms tightening slightly around Donato's neck. "Aria wants to sit with Dad."

"But baby, he has to eat-

"It's okay, let her stay here." Donato cut in gently. "I'll feed her."
For a brief second, as he said it, his eyes lifted and met Nova's across the table. Neither of them said anything.

It only lasted a moment before Nova looked away first, something unsettled moving behind her expression that she couldn't quite place--she didn't understand why his eyes did something to her chest every single time they landed on her, why it felt like being caught at something.

They ate mostly in silence after that, the quiet comfortable in a way that surprised more than one person at the table. Aria chattered occasionally between bites, fed alternately by her own small spoon and by Donato when she got distracted, and nobody seemed to mind the mess of it.

Once dinner wound down, the old couple excused themselves for the night, leaving the three of them--four, counting the small one still glued to Donato's side - in the quiet of the front room. Enzo and Donato settled onto the worn sofa, talking low about the clinic appointment, the drive in the morning, logistics that mattered more than either of them wanted to admit out loud in front of Aria.

Nova took Aria off to change her into her nightdress and get her teeth brushed, and for about ten minutes the house went quiet except for the low murmur of the two men's conversation.

Then Aria came running back in, bouncing on her toes in her small, cotton nightdress printed with faded stars. "Daddy, let's sleep!" she announced, already reaching for his hand.

Nova appeared behind her a second later, catching up. "Aria, come on, let's go to sleep--and let Daddy sleep too."

The words landed somewhere in Donato's chest before he could stop them. His heartbeat caught, stumbled, and for a second he just stared at her, something helpless and undone in his expression.

Let Daddy sleep too. Said so easily, so naturally, like it was the most ordinary sentence in the world--a wife telling her daughter to let her father rest. Except Nova didn't know that's what she'd just sounded like. She was still looking at Aria, gently steering her by the shoulder, completely unaware of what those five words had just done to the man sitting frozen on the sofa across the room.

Aria was half asleep by the time she reached for her mother, and Nova lifted her onto her hip without hesitation. It didn't matter how full or exciting her day had been, whose lap she'd spent the evening in, whose beard she'd examined for an hour straight at the end of it, she still needed her mother, the way every child eventually does.

There was nothing in the world that replaced that, no matter how much love came from anywhere else. Nova glanced once toward the living room, at Donato and Enzo still talking quietly, and then turned and carried Aria off toward their room.

She'd already told the two men earlier where they'd be sleeping she'd cleaned the guest room herself that evening, put fresh sheets on the bed, and made sure there were enough blankets.

She laid Aria down, and her daughter mumbled something about her father even as her eyes kept slipping shut, some half-formed sentence about tomorrow, about showing him the lake, about her friend needing to meet him too. Nova just made small sounds of agreement, following along with whatever her daughter was murmuring until the words trailed off entirely and Aria was asleep.

Once she was sure of it, Nova slipped out and went to check the kitchen-- stove off, lights off, everything in its place. On her way back, she noticed light spilling out from the back door, the garden lamp switched on outside.

She followed it out through the back door and into the small garden, and there she found Donato, sitting alone on the old wooden bench, face tilted up toward the sky.

She didn't say anything. She just walked over and sat down beside him, close enough to share the bench but leaving space between them, and looked up too. The sky was properly dark out here, away from any real light pollution, thick with stars in a way city skies never managed.

Donato was aware of her the second she sat down, but he didn't speak either. He didn't want to disturb whatever this was--the quiet, her simply choosing to sit beside him without being asked.
After a long stretch of silence, Nova finally spoke.

"Do you have any pictures of me?"

The question caught him off guard, and he turned to look at her. "What?"

"You said we got married six years ago." She kept her eyes on the sky, like it was easier to ask this way. "That we had a lot of sweet moments together, you said. Do you have pictures of any of that? Of me? Of my family?"

Donato's face softened, and he nodded. "Yes. I have a lot of pictures of you." He reached into his pocket for his phone. "Give me a second." He unlocked it, opened the gallery, and found the folder he was looking for--one simply labeled my love, years old, open everyday he opened from exactly where he'd left it. He handed the phone over to her without a word.

Nova hesitated before taking it, her fingers curling around the edges carefully, like it might not be real. The first photo that filled the screen was a wedding picture--the two of them standing together in full wedding dress, hands linked, looking at each other and not the camera, caught in some private moment neither photographer's instruction had planned for.

Nova's eyes went misty without warning, and she didn't understand why. She had no memory attached to the image in front of her, nothing she could name or place, and yet something in her chest responded to it anyway, some old ache stirring awake at the sight of her own unfamiliar face looking at this man like he was the only person in the world.

She slid through the photos one after another--the wedding day continuing into the next, her first rasoi, the small ritual after marriage where she'd been cooking in an unfamiliar kitchen for the first time, Donato clearly having snuck the photo without her noticing.

Then the ring, a close-up of her hand resting in his. A day out with what must have been siblings, laughing at something outside the frame. A temple visit, incense smoke curling in the corner of the shot.

She scrolled slowly, taking in every face with a kind of quiet wonder, but none of them meant anything to her. She had no way of knowing who was who--which face belonged to a mother, which to a father, which to a brother she was apparently supposed to know by heart.

She looked up at Donato. "Wh-who's my mother? In these?"
Her voice cracked slightly on the question, and something about it hit harder than she expected--the idea that she'd forgotten her own mother, the woman who'd given birth to her, sat somewhere completely lost inside her own head. What must she look like now. What is she like. I don't even know.

Donato scrolled back to a photo and turned the screen toward her a woman standing between the two of them, Kiara on one side, Donato on the other, both of them holding one of her hands. "That's your mother," he said gently.

Kiara's fingers moved over the screen, tracing the shape of the woman's face without meaning to. A tear slipped free before she noticed it building. "She's beautiful," she whispered.

"She is." Donato watched her carefully. "And you clearly got your looks from her."

A faint blush crept up despite everything, and she slid to the next photo--a full family group shot this time, everyone lined up and looking at the camera. "Who are all of these people?"

Donato leaned in slightly, pointing to each face in turn, patient with it. "That's your grandmother. That's your grandfather. That's your brother." He moved his finger across the row. "That's your aunt." One by one, he named them all, giving her something solid to attach to each unfamiliar face.

She scrolled again, and another family photo appeared different faces this time, though a few overlapped with people she'd already seen. Donato's own family, he explained, pointing them out one at a time.

"Your in-laws," he said. "That's Elana, my younger sister. That's Sofia, my other sister. That's Albert, my older brother." He moved down the row. "Those are my mom and dad. That's Nonna, and my grandfather. And that's my uncle and aunt, and their son, Elio."

Kiara stared at each face as he named them, trying to force some flicker of recognition to surface, some feeling that might tell her this was real, that these strangers had once been the people closest to her in the world. Nothing came. Just names, attached now to faces, sitting quietly in her mind without the weight of memory behind them -- a start, at least, even if it wasn't the whole of what she'd lost.

She scrolled further, and the photos that followed were different softer, more private, the kind that had clearly only ever been meant for the two of them to see. In one, Kiara was curled up on Donato's lap, laughing at something out of frame.

In another, she was clearly taking the picture herself, Donato's face pressed into the curve of her neck, his eyes closed. Another showed her hand mid-motion against his jaw, smoothing his beard while he stood still and let her, caught in a mirror's reflection.

And in the next, he was standing behind her in front of that same mirror, kissing the side of her face while she held the phone up to capture it.

There were a few more like that, unmistakably intimate, private in a way that made her stomach flip the longer she looked at them.
A deep flush crawled up her neck and settled hot across her cheeks, and the hair at the back of her neck rose, some instinctive, wordless reaction to images that felt like they belonged to a stranger and, impossibly, to her own body at the same time.

She glanced sideways, and Donato was watching too, though he didn't react beyond a soft, quiet smile no smugness in it, nothing performed, just something gentle and a little wistful.

She swiped through the rest faster after that, aware that the next handful looked like they'd been taken somewhere even more private a bed, low light and she wasn't ready to sit with those the way she'd sat with the wedding photos.

A few swipes later, a different picture appeared. Kiara standing beside a woman and a man, the same two Donato had mentioned earlier his older brother, and someone he'd called her aunt. She frowned, glancing up at him for clarification.

He understood immediately. "They're married. Your aunt and my brother."

"Oh." A slow, amused grin spread across her face despite everything else swirling in her chest. "My aunt and your brother got married?"

"After our wedding, they fell for each other. Got married not long after."

She let out a short laugh, shaking her head slightly, and swiped again. This time the photo showed her standing with three different men. She studied their faces, unfamiliar, waiting for something to click. "Who are they?"

Donato leaned in and pointed. "That's your father." He moved his finger. "And these two are your brothers." He named them Ayush, then Krish.

Kiara stared at the faces for a long moment, and without warning, tears began sliding down her cheeks. "H-how are they," she asked, voice unsteady. "How are they doing now?"

Donato went still. He didn't know how to answer that honestly. He had no contact with any of them anymore not since everything had fallen apart, since Kiara's family had cut every tie to the Romanos, blaming him, blaming all of them, for what had happened to her.

He didn't know how Krish had been these past years beyond what little Sofia had told him secondhand. He didn't know how her father had taken any of it. He forced a small, steady smile instead. "They're good," he said. "They miss you. A lot. But overall, they're doing okay."

After a few more slides, she asked, "Why do all of these look so different are they newer than the rest?"

Donato nodded and brought up a photo of Elana and Enzo's wedding. "My sister Elana and my best friend. They got married a few months after you went missing. It had actually been arranged before that it's a longer story, I'll tell you the whole thing properly when you're ready for it." Nova nodded, and he swiped forward to another.

"This is Elio, from that earlier photo. He's grown a lot since then. He was only five when you disappeared. He's ten now." He paused. "You were his best friend, you know. He misses you. A lot."

Nova smiled faintly at the image of the boy, something tugging gently at her chest even without memory to attach to it.

Donato moved to the next photo. "This is Elian. Enzo and Elana's son." Then another. "And this is Kavya, Albert, and their daughter."

Nova looked at each face carefully, taking her time, and when the photos ran out, she handed the phone back to him. A quiet settled between them, and after a moment she spoke, her voice low.

"Everyone's grown so much. Some have gotten older, some new people have arrived entirely. Everyone's life has changed so much." She turned the phone's dark screen over in her mind, the faces still lingering. "Am I even still part of any of it?

I don't remember any of them, but looking at all these photos, seeing myself standing there with them something in me feels a pull. I thought you were lying. That you weren't really my husband. But after seeing all this, I can't say you were lying anymore." She exhaled.

"But I don't know what to do with any of it, Mr. Donato. I don't know where to even begin. This is--this is a lot, for me."

Donato looked at her steadily. "You don't have to figure it out right now. Whatever you decide, I'll be here for it. I don't know if you trust me, or if you ever will. But I'll be here for you, whenever you need me." He paused, gathering himself.

"There are things from the past that still keep me up at night, even now. But today, seeing you actually seeing you for the first time in five years, I felt something settle in me. I'll spend the rest of my life asking forgiveness for the mistakes I made.

I don't know if you'll even want to look at me once your memories come back. But I'm not walking away from you again. Whether you remember it or not, you're still part of everyone's life. You always will be. Everyone's found a way to keep living, but you're still in it, still spoken of, even now.

There's so much that happened, so much that led you here. If you want, I can tell you everything. Maybe it'll help bring your memory back."

Nova nodded slowly. "I want to know everything. But after the test results. Please--tell me everything, in full detail, what happened five years ago, how I ended up all the way out here. For tonight, let me just sit with everything I already learned today.

It's a lot to take in as it is. Five years, and suddenly my husband shows up, telling me I belong to him and he didn't even know his wife was pregnant when she disappeared."

That last line landed like a blow, deep regret twisting through his chest. He swallowed hard. "I know you have a lot of questions," he said quietly. "I'll answer every single one of them honestly. I promise you that."

Nova nodded and stood. "Good night, Mr. Donato."

Donato closed his eyes briefly after she said it. Somewhere underneath everything, some old, aching part of him wanted to hear the name she used to call him-Ro-the nickname only she had ever used. But it was too soon for that, he knew. "Good night, Kiara," he said instead, using her real name.

She nodded once more and disappeared into her room.
A few minutes later, Donato made his way to the guest room, where he found Enzo already on a video call, phone propped against a stack of books, Elian's small face filling most of the screen, mid-complaint about something.

''--and dada leaved and he no even say when he comed back, and I wanted show him my new twuck--'' Elian's voice wobbled with the particular outrage only a two-year-old could sustain over something so small, bottom lip stuck way out, his small fist rubbing at one eye.

"Hey, buddy." Donato leaned into frame, and Elian's whole face brightened for a second. "Uncle Dada!" Then, remembering his grievance, the frown snapped right back. "dada go-ed. He no say bye bye pwoper."

"I know, I know, buddy," Enzo cut in from off to the side, voice gone soft and a little guilty. "dada's really, really sorry. I come home soon, okay? Then you show me truck, promise."

Elian considered this very seriously, sniffling once. "You pwomise?"

"I promise."

"Okay." He didn't sound fully convinced, lip still out, but he let it go for now, more interested in leaning so close to the screen that his whole face turned into a blur of nose and eyelash. "Uncle Dada, where you go? Papa say you go find Auntie Kiawa."

Donato blinked, caught a little off guard by how easily his nephew had said the name. "Yeah, buddy. I did. I found Auntie Kiara."

Elian's whole face lit up properly this time, forgetting about his truck complaint entirely. "Weally? You find her? Mama show me picture, she pwetty. She have brown hair like Auntie Sophia."

"That's right." Donato felt something in his chest ease, just slightly, at the boy's excitement. "You remember her picture?"

"Yes! Mama put it on fwidge. She say Auntie Kiawa is lost and you looking for her a weally weally long time." He held up both hands, fingers spread wide, apparently his best estimate of "a really long time." "Did you find her house? Is she happy see you?"

Donato hesitated, unsure how much to actually explain to a two-year-old, and settled for the simplest true thing he could manage. "She's a little confused right now, buddy. She had a big owie a long time ago, and it made her forget some things. So she doesn't remember me yet."

Elian's small face scrunched up in concentration, working through this. "She forget you? Like--like forget youl name?"

"Kind of like that, yeah."

"That's sad." He said it with total conviction, the way small children deliver devastating truths without any idea of the weight behind them. Then, brightening again just as fast: "But you make her lemeber, right? Like--you sho her pichures ? Mama say pichures help limember things. I forgetted whele I put my twuck once and Mama showed me pichure and then I limembered undel the coch."

Despite everything, Donato laughed, quiet and a little wet around the edges. "Yeah, buddy. I showed her some pictures tonight, actually."

"Did she lemember?"

"Not yet. But maybe soon."

Elian nodded seriously, like this was a perfectly reasonable timeline, then leaned even closer to the screen, dropping his voice to something he clearly thought was a whisper. "Uncle Dada. Auntie Kiawa have a baby too? Like me?"

Donato's throat tightened unexpectedly. "She does, actually. A little girl. Her name's Aria."

"Awia." Elian tried the name out carefully, syllable by syllable, pleased with himself when he got it right. "Is she my baby cusin?"

"She is."

"Is she little like me?"

"A little older. She's four."

"Fourl is big," Elian said, deeply impressed, as though four years old sat somewhere near the summit of human achievement. Then, immediately, "Can she come play twucks with me?"

"Maybe soon," Donato said, and meant it more than the boy could possibly understand.

Enzo's voice came from off-screen, gentle. "Okay, bug, say good night to Uncle Dada, it's way past your bedtime."

"Night night, Uncle Dada." Elian pressed his whole palm flat against the camera in what was clearly meant to be a kiss goodnight. "Find Auntie Kiawa's memowy soon, okay? Then she come see me and Awia can play twucks."

"I'll try my best, buddy," Donato said, throat still tight, and watched his nephew's small face pull back out of frame before the call shifted, and Elana's face appeared, having clearly taken the phone from her son.

"Donato brother." Her voice had an edge of urgency to it already. "Enzo told me. Everything. Tell me it's true."

Donato leaned closer to the screen. "It's true, Eli. I found her."
He told her the whole of it, slower this time, more carefully--the photo from his man, the café, Aria running into his arms calling him daddy, the way Nova hadn't recognized him at all, the mole, the DNA test scheduled for tomorrow.

Elana listened without interrupting, her eyes filling somewhere in the middle of it. "Brother." Her voice cracked slightly. "Please, bring her back. We're so happy you finally found her. We've been waiting five years for this. Please, bring her home as soon as you can."

"I'll try, Eli," Donato said, throat tight. "I promise I'll try." They talked a little longer--Elana asking after Aria, wanting every detail, half-laughing and half-crying by the end of it--before finally saying their goodbyes and ending the call.
_____

Tonight, sleep will came easier to Donato than it had in longer than he could remember, and he suspected it had everything to do with the simple fact that his wife was asleep just one room over. He lay back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, and beside him Enzo flopped down with considerably less grace.

"How is it fair," Enzo said, "that instead of sleeping next to my own wife tonight, I'm stuck sleeping next to her brother instead. Eli, baby, I miss your arms already." He said the last part with theatrical longing, one hand pressed dramatically to his chest.

Donato grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked him with it. "You overdramatic princess. Go to sleep. One night without your wife won't kill you, you'll survive, I promise."

"Oh, what would you know," Enzo shot back, unbothered, rubbing at the side of his head where the pillow had landed. "About the pain of sleeping without your wife. Darling." The word slipped out of enzo before he'd thought it through.

"I've been sleeping without my wife for five years. Believe me. Nobody on this earth understands that particular pain better than I do." Donato said.

That made Enzo go quiet for exactly one beat before a slow smirk spread across his face. "Darling. You saw your wife again today, for the first time in five years. You're sleeping under the same roof as her right now. Just through one door." He propped himself up on an elbow. "Are you going to be having a dream about her tonight?"

"Of course I'm going to dream about my wife."

"A wet dream?" Enzo asked, completely deadpan, out of absolutely nowhere.

Donato choked on air. He sat bolt upright and hurled the pillow directly at Enzo's face. "You creep. I just found my wife again after five years, and that's where your mind goes? I am not you. I don't spend every waking hour thinking about- He stopped himself, shaking his head. "God knows how my sister still puts up with you."

"You're wrong, actually." Enzo caught the pillow easily, grinning. "It's your sister who needs me twenty-four hours a day. She's needier than I am, honestly-Another pillow, this one aimed with more force, cut him off mid-sentence.

"Shut up. Show some respect, you're talking about my sister right in front of me."

"But i-

"Shut up. If one more word comes out of your mouth, I swear I will throw you out of this room myself." Donato pointed at him, dead serious.

Enzo mimed zipping his lips shut and finally settled back down, quiet for once. Donato lay back too, staring up at the ceiling again, the silence stretching out comfortably between them.
After what felt like a long while, Enzo spoke again, quieter this time. "Darling."

"Hmm?" Donato murmured.

"Are you asleep?"

"Getting there." His voice had gone soft, already drifting. "Sleep's coming easy tonight. Because for once, there's peace in my chest." He said it half-conscious already, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "I finally found my Kiara."

Enzo watched him for a second, something warm settling behind his own tired eyes, and didn't say anything smart back this time. "Sleep well, darling. Have a good dream," he said instead, quiet and genuine, and leaned over to press a brief kiss to Donato's forehead before finally letting his own eyes close.