Chapter 129

The house was unusually quiet.

Not the peaceful kind—more like the kind that felt too big without Jennie’s presence filling it with small sounds: her footsteps in the kitchen, her soft humming while scrolling through her phone, the occasional “Lisa, where did you put my—” that always ended with Lisa dramatically pretending she didn’t know anything.

Now it was just Lisa… and Ruby.

Three-year-old Ruby sat cross-legged on the living room floor, completely absorbed in stacking her soft toy blocks. Her little cheeks were round, her hair slightly messy from play, and every now and then she would let out a tiny “hmph!” when a tower fell over.

Lisa was sitting nearby, but not really nearby in the normal sense.

She was hovering emotionally attached nearby.

Because Ruby—her Ruby—looked exactly like Jennie.

Same soft eyes. Same serious little pout when she was focused. Same “I am judging you silently” expression even while doing something completely innocent like stacking blocks.

Lisa sighed dramatically for the fifth time in ten minutes.

“Why are you like this…” she whispered, staring at Ruby like she was a tiny miracle wrapped in chaos.

Ruby glanced up. “Mama sad?”

That one sentence hit Lisa directly in the heart.

“I’m not sad,” Lisa said instantly, then immediately deflated. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Ruby tilted her head. “Why?”

Lisa opened her mouth, then closed it again.

How was she supposed to explain “I miss your other mom so much I feel like I’m malfunctioning” to a three-year-old?

Instead, she reached out and gently poked Ruby’s cheek.

“You look too much like Mama Jennie.”

Ruby blinked. “I Ruby.”

“Yes, you are Ruby,” Lisa nodded seriously. “But also… miniature Jennie.”

Ruby processed this information, then returned to her blocks like it was completely normal to be compared to your own mother every five seconds.

Lisa, however, was not coping.

Jennie had been out since morning—work schedule packed, meetings back to back, no time to even sit properly. She had left in a rush, kissed Ruby’s forehead, and then—worst crime of all—only waved at Lisa.

No kiss.

Just a wave.

Lisa had stood at the door like a betrayed cartoon character for a solid ten minutes after Jennie left.

“Forgot to kiss me,” she had whispered into the empty hallway.

And now, hours later, she was still suffering the consequences.

Ruby suddenly stood up, wobbling slightly as she carried her toy tower like a precious artifact.

“Mama Lisa,” she said seriously, “I make new one.”

Lisa’s heart melted on impact.

“You’re so responsible,” Lisa said, scooping Ruby up immediately before she could protest. “Too responsible. Just like your mom. This family is too powerful.”

Ruby squeaked a little but didn’t resist the cuddle. She was used to this—Mama Lisa randomly turning her into a hug victim whenever emotions got too big.

Lisa sank onto the couch with Ruby in her lap, arms wrapped tightly around her small body.

“Ruby,” she murmured, burying her face into the child’s fluffy hair, “you are currently my emotional support dumpling.”

Ruby patted Lisa’s arm like she understood everything. “Mama Lisa okay.”

“I am surviving,” Lisa corrected dramatically.

A pause.

Then she added, quieter, “I miss Mama Jennie.”

Ruby looked up at that, eyes softening in the way only children could be unexpectedly wise.

Then she leaned forward.

And pressed a small, gentle kiss right onto Lisa’s cheek.

A perfect, slightly messy, completely sincere kiss.

“Cure,” Ruby announced proudly.

Lisa froze.

Then her entire body relaxed like someone had unplugged all her stress at once.

“Oh,” Lisa whispered. “Oh no.”

Ruby tilted her head again. “No more sad?”

Lisa hugged her tighter, dramatically flopping back into the couch.

“I think I just got rebooted,” she said.

Ruby giggled.

Lisa held her closer, swaying slightly side to side. “Your mother is going to be very dangerous when she comes home, you know that? Two Jennies in one house? I will not survive.”

Ruby just smiled, already half asleep from the warmth of the cuddle.

And just like that, the front door clicked open.

Jennie stepped in, loosening her coat, exhaustion visible on her face—but softening instantly the moment she saw them.

Lisa looked up.

Their eyes met.

Lisa didn’t even try to act normal.

“You forgot my kiss,” she said immediately.

Jennie blinked once. Then twice. “I was gone for work.”

“Still counts,” Lisa insisted.

Jennie sighed—but there was fondness in it as she walked closer. “You’re impossible.”

“Correct.”

Jennie leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Lisa’s forehead.

Then another to Ruby’s.

Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she gently tapped Lisa’s nose.

“Better?”

Lisa dramatically melted into the couch again. “Function restored.”

Ruby, half-asleep between them, mumbled softly:

“I give cure…”

Jennie paused. “Cure?”

Lisa pointed proudly at Ruby. “Your mini you fixed me.”

Jennie looked down at their daughter, then at Lisa, and shook her head with a small smile.

“Of course she did,” Jennie said softly.

And for a moment, the house didn’t feel quiet anymore.