sharp corners, but softer edges.

rainy mondays had a way of settling into emily’s bones, wrapping around her like a familiar, comforting weight. she and aria had that in common—they both loved the rain. not just the way it sounded against the windows, but everything that came with it. the excuse to stay inside, to slow down, to exist in their own little world without the urgency of the outside creeping in. emily had miraculously gotten off work early—a rarity in itself. and by some grace of the universe, she and aria were home by 4:30 p.m. a whole evening stretched out before them, no interruptions, no obligations. just them. and it was perfect.

after an early dinner (which, of course, meant aria got her way and won the battle for mac and cheese), emily had decided to give her an early bath. there was something about wrapping up the day in warm pajamas and damp curls that just fit the kind of night they were having — and emily was more than happy to not be in a blazer at this hour, and in sweatpants instead. 

now, the house was quiet, save for the rain outside and the occasional soft voice of aria narrating her own little world. she was on her belly in the living room, small feet kicked up behind her, completely absorbed in her animal figurines. emily, curled up in the armchair, was watching her over the rim of her tea mug, feeling so much and too much all at once.

aria wasn’t just playing. she was making believe in the sweetest, most loving kind of way. she was holding the little plastic cat in her tiny hands, gently pressing it against the even tinier kitten. she made a soft little meow sound, nuzzling them together.

emily tilted her head, smiling. “whatcha got there, bug?”

aria looked up, only briefly, before turning back to her figures, focused. “dey takin’ care.”

emily’s heart melted.

“taking care, huh?” she mused, setting her tea down and shifting forward, squatting beside her. “and who do we have here?”

aria pointed to the larger cat. “dis da emmy cat.”

emily’s brows lifted. “the emmy cat?”

aria nodded very seriously, patting the tiny kitten in front of it. “dis da awia cat.”

emily exhaled a quiet laugh, her chest aching in the best way. it only confirmed what she already suspected—aria saw them everywhere. in every little story she created, in every make-believe scenario she built. she had never known a world without emily. in aria’s mind, there was never a version of home that didn’t have her.

emily swallowed thickly, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head before standing. “you keep playing, okay? i’m gonna make some more tea.”

aria hummed in response, already lost in her game again. emily padded into the kitchen, the warm glow of the lights soft against the darkening sky outside. she reached for the tea tin, absently listening as aria continued her little story, her tiny voice carrying across the space.

she was narrating, switching between her sweet toddler murmur and the occasional meow as the ‘emmy cat’ soothed the ‘aria cat’. she talked them through their bedtime routine, through soft cuddles and quiet reassurances, through an imagined world of safety and comfort.

emily swallowed around the lump in her throat. she poured the water over her tea, taking a slow breath before making her way back into the living room. and instead of sitting back in her chair, she lingered by the piano near the window. her fingers brushed over the keys, a familiar ache settling in her chest.

this piano—it had belonged to their grandmother. it had been in emily’s life longer than she could remember, passed down after her grandmother’s death years ago, long before aria was ever even born.

and emily used to play. not just in the way that some kids take lessons for a few years before moving on to other things. no, emily really played. it had been one of the few constants in her childhood, one of the few things that truly belonged to her and no one else. elizabeth had put emily in lessons for some status, she was sure – however, emily felt comfort in it. lessons were her escape. 

when she was just a kid, and she felt lonely? she played. when she was a teenager, and every fiber of her wanted to rebel, to scream — to ask elizabeth why she looked at her with such distaint? she played. when she was overseas, pretending to be someone entirely else on a case she was far too young for and felt like every piece of emily was ripped away, prematurely? she played. 

for emily? it was a piece of her nothing, and no one, could take away. the way it made her feel, was hers. 

though, she hadn’t played in a while. not the way she used to. not in the way that filled up the room, that carried in the air like something alive. but now, standing there, with the sound of rain outside and aria’s voice drifting through the quiet, something in her itched to.

so, she did. she ran her fingers over the keys—hesitated for only a moment—before she pressed down gently.

the first time emily pressed a key—just a single note, soft and unassuming—she didn’t expect a reaction. it was a habit more than anything, muscle memory kicking in as she idly rested against the piano. but the moment the sound drifted through the air, aria’s head lifted from where she was sprawled on her belly, her little animal figurines forgotten in her hands.

emily pressed another key, a different note, still not forming a song, just letting the sound hum through the cozy stillness of the room. aria blinked, big-eyed and curious, pacifier bobbing slightly as she took it all in. she watched for a second, then pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, shuffling a bit forward like a determined little explorer on a mission - but still timid to discover. 

emily smiled as she noticed and watched her move. 

another note.

this time, aria sprang to her feet, little socked feet padding quickly across the floor. she wobbled a bit, adjusting to standing so fast, but she never took her eyes off the piano. she grabbed onto the edge of it as soon as she reached emily, balancing on her tiptoes, peeking up at the keys as if trying to understand what the magic was.

emily pressed another note—low, warm. aria’s eyes darted to her hands, then back to emily’s face.

“you like that, bug?” emily murmured, tilting her head.

aria didn’t say anything, but her brows lifted, lips parting. emily watched as aria stood at the piano, wide-eyed and entranced. the soft glow of the lamp in the corner cast a warm light on her tiny face, highlighting the way her brows lifted with curiosity, the way her pacifier bobbed in her mouth as she took in the sight of emily’s fingers hovering over the keys.

then, the low, distant rumble of thunder rolled through the house. it wasn’t loud, but emily felt aria’s small body tense in response, her tiny hands gripping the edge of the piano just a little tighter. emily caught it immediately—the subtle way aria’s shoulders curled inward, the quiet way she held her breath.

without hesitation, emily reached for her.

she pulled the bench out and sat down, gathering aria effortlessly into her lap. aria didn’t resist, her body instantly curling into the comfort of emily’s arms. emily adjusted her, making sure she was settled, then pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the familiar, clean scent of baby shampoo she had just washed her up with a few hours ago. she rocked them gently, swaying just enough to feel aria mold into her.

“here, watch, baby…” emily murmured against her damp hair, her voice warm and soothing.

emily’s fingers moved over the keys with a familiarity she hadn’t indulged in for years. at first, there was no song, just soft, deliberate notes filling the space between her and aria. but something about the weight of aria in her lap, the warmth of her small body pressed against her, made emily want to give her more. to share this with her.

so, without thinking, she started playing blackbird. the song by the beatles that emily always sang to aria, every single night. she wasn’t even sure why she had started singing this song to her when she was just a baby. it had just slipped from her lips one night in a hushed, tired melody, and somehow, it had soothed her. more than anything else had. more than rocking, more than humming nonsense lullabies—this song had settled her, calmed her in a way emily didn’t understand but never questioned.

so she played it now.

aria was still, her wide eyes fixed on emily’s hands as they moved over the keys. the pacifier in her mouth slowed its movement, barely bobbing as she watched. her little fingers, warm against emily’s sweatshirt, flexed once before relaxing completely.

emily barely noticed the quiet creak of paws against the wood floor. not until sergio leapt up onto the other side of the piano bench, landing with a soft thump before settling himself down. his tail flicked, curling slightly around emily’s hip, his green eyes half-lidded as if this was routine, as if he had always been a part of this.

emily smiled to herself but kept playing, her voice slipping effortlessly into the words.

“blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly…”

aria sighed, the kind of deep, contented breath that only happened when she was completely at ease. she nuzzled against emily’s chest, her little hand curling into the fabric. she wasn’t trying to sing along, wasn’t wiggling to move.

she was just listening.

feeling.

emily kept playing, her fingers steady, her voice soft.

“..all your life…you were only waiting for this moment to arise..”

aria’s gaze flickered up to her face, wide and heavy with something emily knew too well. that look. the one she gave emily when she reached for her in the middle of the night, the one she had when she clung to her after daycare, when she laid her head on her shoulder just because. 

the one she gave emily the night elizabeth dropped her in emily’s arms and left like it was nothing. 

the kind of look that didn’t need words, but it spoke many. 

the kind of look that told emily she was everything to aria. that there was never a thought that passed aria’s mind that emily would ever leave her questioning love. 

as emily finished, aria reached up and touched her cheek just for a second, like she was trying to hold onto this moment between them. she just as quickly stopped and started rubbing her eyes a bit, before she looked back at the piano. aria reached out; her tiny fingers hovering before she pulled the back, like she was nervous to push them. 

emily watched as aria’s fingers hovered over the keys, her hesitation evident in the way they trembled slightly before pulling back. there was something so careful about the way she approached it—like she was afraid of doing it wrong, of disrupting whatever magic had just filled the air.

emily wasn’t having that.

she shifted slightly, adjusting aria on her lap, and took her small hand in her own, guiding it gently back toward the keys.

“you can play too, baby,” emily murmured against the top of her head, pressing a kiss into her soft hair. “here, let’s do it together.”

she placed aria’s fingers on a single key and pressed down lightly, letting the note ring out, soft but sure. aria’s lips parted slightly, her pacifier still in her mouth, and her brows lifted like she had just done something extraordinary.

emily smiled.

“see?” she encouraged, releasing her hand just a little. “your turn.”

aria hesitated for half a second, glancing up at emily as if for permission, before pressing the key again on her own. this time, a pleased hum escaped her, muffled by her pacifier, but there was no mistaking the joy in it. encouraged, emily pressed a different key—a complimentary note—and aria’s eyes darted to her hands, watching her every move.

she pressed another key of her own. emily nodded approvingly. “that’s it, bug.”

aria pressed another, then another, her silent confidence building, her tiny fingers moving slowly, but with the purpose of discovery. she wasn’t playing a song, wasn’t forming anything structured, but it didn’t matter. she was playing.

emily let her go at it, watching with quiet admiration. the way aria’s little body leaned upward slightly, the way her face was scrunched up in concentration, the way she’d pause every so often to look up at emily, just to make sure she was still watching, still proud.

and she was.

“oh, i see what you’re doing,” emily spoke softly, nudging aria’s side gently. “are you composing a masterpiece?”

aria grinned around her pacifier, nodding as she pressed another key.  emily let her go on for a few more minutes, watching as she explored the sound, sergio still curled up beside them, his tail flicking lazily with every note. aria would occasionally glance at him, as if expecting his opinion, but the cat remained unfazed, perfectly content to be a part of the moment.

aria wasn’t like other toddlers, who would bang on piano keys as loud and fast as they could. no. aria was gentle, appreciative – enamored by the sound, every single time. 

when aria finally paused, emily leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially, “wanna learn a real song?”

aria’s eyes widened, and she eagerly, settling back against emily, fully prepared to absorb whatever her emmy wanted to teach her. emily wrapped her own hands around aria’s tiny ones, placing her fingers just so.

“here,” she murmured, pressing down gently. a note rang out, soft but certain.

aria let out the softest gasp, looking up at emily like she had just discovered something incredible once again.

emily grinned. “that’s right, baby. let’s try another one.”

she shifted aria’s hands, helping her press another key, then another, matching the tune as emily sang softly, her voice threading through the notes like a lullaby.

“twinkle, twinkle, little star…”

she rocked slightly with aria as they played, her hands guiding each press of the keys. aria’s breathing slowed, her body relaxing further into emily as she concentrated, entranced.

“how i wonder what you are…”

emily’s voice, her steady hands, aria’s wide-eyed wonder – for the first time, they were playing together. aria was relaxed against emily as they finished the song, her voice barely above a whisper the entire time. she pressed a gentle kiss to aria’s head, letting the last note hum into the quiet. 

but before she could say anything—

aria did.

aria said the thing that shifted her entire fucking world.

“do bird ‘gain, mommy.”

emily froze. her fingers stalled over the keys, every part of her going still as the weight of those words settled deep into her chest. she wasn’t sure she had heard it right at first. maybe it was a trick of the storm outside, the low hum of the thunder making her mind hear things it wanted to.

but no. aria was looking up at her now, expectant and unbothered, like she had been calling emily mommy her entire life. like it was just a fact. like it was something she knew deep in her bones. like she didn’t even realize what she just said. 

emily opened her mouth, then closed it. her throat felt tight. her heartbeat was thick in her ears.

sergio stretched beside them letting out a soft chirp, before curling back into a loaf on the far end. the world continued on like normal, the rain still pattering, the house still quiet—but inside emily, everything cracked open.

aria blinked up at her, her little fingers curling slightly against emily’s wrist where she had been playing with the fabric of her sweater. she was waiting.

emily swallowed.

she could cry. 

right here, right now, she could cry.

instead, she shifted, cradling aria a little closer, letting her chin rest against the top of her soft curls. she inhaled deeply, grounding herself, steadying herself - closing her eyes. then, she nodded, her lips twitching into a bit of a smile as tears welled. 

“okay, baby,” she whispered, voice just a little uneven, just a little raw. 

she let her fingers find the keys again, pressing the first soft notes of blackbird into the air. 

“again.”