A few days had passed, but the idea of a date with Elysia kept circling in Malvoria's thoughts, sweet and stubborn as summer wine. It lingered with her even as she woke in the early gray.
Even as Kaelith wriggled between her and Elysia in their bed, tiny hands fisting the covers, her head buried trustingly against Malvoria's shoulder.
She loved her daughter loved her beyond words or measure, loved the way Kaelith squealed at birds in the garden or demanded "mama" with absolute conviction, loved even her tantrums and her nighttime wanderings.
But sometimes , just sometimes Malvoria wanted Elysia to herself.
Just the two of them. No sticky fingers, no little hands demanding attention, no sudden yells of "cake!" during a kiss.
She wanted an evening to be only Malvoria and Elysia again. The memory of stolen moments when the world was less full and every touch felt rare, precious, something to be hoarded.
