Chapter 174

Abigail stood at the stove, giving the sauce one last slow stir before turning the burner off. The kitchen smelled warm and rich, garlic and butter settling into the air. She plated everything carefully, making sure Emma’s portion looked just right before wiping her hands on a towel.

Behind her, she felt arms wrap around her waist.

Emma rested her chin on Abigail’s shoulder. “Are you done?”

“Just finished,” Abigail said with a soft smile. “Perfect timing.”

Emma swayed gently with her for a second, then tilted her head. “Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we eat in bed?”

Abigail didn’t even turn around right away. She just laughed quietly. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Emma gasped dramatically. “You’re serious?”

“I’m serious.”

Emma spun her around and kissed her quickly — soft, excited, grateful.

“Okay! I’ll go find us a movie!” she said, already backing away.

“Grab pillows!” Abigail called after her.

“And a blanket!” Emma yelled back as she disappeared down the hallway.

Abigail shook her head, smiling to herself as she grabbed the plates and drinks. She dimmed the kitchen lights before carefully carrying everything toward the bedroom.

When she stepped inside, Emma was already sitting on the bed, remote in hand, scrolling through options like it was the most important decision of her life.

“I’m thinking something funny,” Emma said without looking up. “Or romantic. Or both.”

Abigail set the plates on the nightstand and climbed onto the bed beside her. “Dealer’s choice.”

Emma leaned over and kissed her again, this one slower.

Emma grinned and hit play on the movie, scooting closer until she was tucked into Abigail’s side.

“Best dinner date ever,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “It really is.”

The movie started playing, soft light from the screen flickering across the walls. Emma adjusted herself until she was practically draped over Abigail, one leg thrown across her lap, plate balanced carefully on her stomach.

“Don’t drop it,” Abigail warned lightly.

“I would never,” Emma said, already reaching for a bite.

Abigail watched her for a second instead of the screen. The way Emma chewed thoughtfully. The way she hummed when she liked something. The way she leaned in without even thinking about it.

Emma caught her staring. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Abigail shrugged, taking a bite of her own food. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” Emma teased.

“Very,” Abigail replied.

A few minutes passed quietly. The movie was funny — light, easy — but Emma kept sneaking glances up at Abigail.

Finally she asked, “You okay?”

Abigail nodded. “Yeah. Just… today was good.”

Emma smiled softly. “It was.”

“You were incredible,” Abigail added. “In your class. In the car. In general.”

Emma laughed under her breath. “In the car, huh?”

Abigail smirked. “Especially in the car.”

Emma rolled her eyes playfully, but she shifted closer, resting her chin on Abigail’s chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

“Unfortunately,” Emma said, kissing just below Abigail’s collarbone before settling back against her.

The room felt warm. Safe. The kind of quiet that didn’t need to be filled.

Emma poked at her food again but didn’t take a bite. “Today felt… real,” she admitted softly.

“Real how?” Abigail asked, brushing her fingers up and down Emma’s thigh absentmindedly.

“Like everything is actually happening,” Emma said. “Teaching. The baby. Us doing normal things like grocery shopping and eating dinner in bed.”

Abigail smiled faintly. “You say that like grocery shopping isn’t chaotic.”

“It is,” Emma laughed. “But it’s our chaos.”

That made Abigail’s chest tighten in the best way.

Emma shifted again, setting her plate on the nightstand this time so she could fully curl into Abigail. “You know what I liked most about today?”

“What?”

“You showing up after my class.” Emma’s voice softened. “You didn’t have to. But you did.”

Abigail shrugged lightly. “I wanted to see you.”

“I know,” Emma said. “That’s the point.”

She reached up and brushed her thumb over Abigail’s bottom lip. “You make me feel supported without making it a big speech.”

Abigail leaned down and kissed her slowly, not rushed, not hungry — just steady. “You don’t need speeches,” she murmured. “You need someone who shows up.”

Emma’s eyes glistened just a little, but she smiled through it. “You do that really well.”

The movie continued in the background, completely ignored now.

Emma laid her head over Abigail’s heart, listening to the steady rhythm. “Can we do this every Monday?” she asked softly.

“Eat in bed?”

“Be us,” Emma corrected.

Abigail tightened her arms around her. “Yeah. We can do that.”

Emma sighed contently, tracing small circles over Abigail’s stomach. “Good. Because I really like us.”

Abigail kissed the top of her head. “Me too.”

They stayed like that, tangled and comfortable, the plates slowly forgotten, the movie playing to an audience that wasn’t watching anymore.

The credits were barely rolling when Emma’s breathing evened out.

She had fallen asleep halfway through the movie, still curled into Abigail, one hand tucked under her chin and the other resting loosely on Abigail’s chest. The empty plates sat forgotten on the nightstand.

Abigail smiled down at her.

“Of course you fall asleep first,” she whispered gently.

Careful not to wake her, Abigail eased out from under Emma, replacing herself with a pillow and pulling the blanket up around her shoulders. Emma shifted slightly but didn’t wake, just burrowed deeper into the warmth.

Abigail gathered the plates quietly and took them to the kitchen, rinsing them off before setting them in the sink. The apartment felt calm again—soft, dim lighting, the hum of the refrigerator in the background.

She stretched once, then headed for the shower.

The water hit her shoulders and she let out a long breath. The day had been full. Good—but full. Teaching. Grocery store tension. Laughter. Love. Intensity. She stood under the water longer than usual, letting it steady her thoughts.

After drying off and pulling on a pair of sweats and a loose T-shirt, she glanced toward the bedroom.

Emma was still asleep.

Abigail smiled and quietly slipped into the small office space down the hall.

Her laptop glowed to life. She opened her planner first, scanning assignments due this week. Music theory reading. Literature response. Practice time. She put in her headphones and got to work.

For the next hour or so, she moved between notes, textbooks, and a draft she’d been refining. Highlighter streaks marked key terms. Margins filled with quick thoughts. She paused occasionally to rub her eyes but kept going, determined to stay ahead.

By the time she closed her laptop, the apartment was fully quiet again.

She checked the time.

Late.

Abigail padded back into the bedroom and slipped under the covers carefully. Emma stirred this time, immediately rolling toward her.

“Mmm… you left,” Emma mumbled sleepily.

“I’m back,” Abigail whispered.

Emma didn’t fully wake. She just scooted closer, pressing her body into Abigail’s and draping her arm across her waist. Abigail wrapped her arms around her, pulling her in snugly.

“Goodnight,” Emma breathed.

“Goodnight, baby.”

Within minutes, their breathing synced.

The next morning came too fast.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, soft and pale. Abigail woke first, blinking against the light. Emma was still wrapped around her like a koala.

Abigail smiled.

“Em,” she murmured softly, brushing a kiss across her forehead. “We’ve got class today.”

Emma groaned quietly and tightened her grip. “Five more minutes.”

“You said that yesterday,” Abigail teased.

“I meant it yesterday too.”

Abigail laughed under her breath and kissed her cheek. “Come on. We can get breakfast.”

That made one of Emma’s eyes open.

“Breakfast?” she repeated suspiciously.

“Yes. Real breakfast.”

Emma exhaled dramatically but slowly sat up. “Fine. But you’re making the coffee.”

“Already planned on it.”

They moved through their morning routine together—brushing teeth side by side, bumping into each other in the closet while picking out clothes, exchanging quick kisses in between.

By the time they made it to the kitchen, the apartment felt alive again.

Abigail poured coffee while Emma leaned against the counter, watching her.

“You ready?” Emma asked softly.

“For class?” Abigail nodded. “Yeah.”

Emma stepped closer, smoothing a wrinkle out of Abigail’s shirt. “You’re going to do great.”

Abigail smiled faintly. “So are you.”

They shared one more steady kiss before grabbing their bags.

The drive to campus felt lighter than the day before.

Emma rested her hand on her stomach while Abigail drove, the morning traffic steady but calm. They talked softly about their schedules before pulling into the parking lot.

“You’re sure you’re okay today?” Abigail asked, glancing over.

Emma nodded. “I have office hours. No big lectures. Just cleaning up the classroom, organizing for Wednesday, answering emails.” She smiled. “Low pressure.”

Abigail squeezed her hand. “Low pressure sounds good.”

They kissed quickly before parting ways, each heading toward their buildings.

Emma reached her classroom a little earlier than necessary.

The hallway was quieter than it had been the day before. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, flipping on the lights. The room felt lived-in now—chairs slightly shifted, a few stray pencil marks on the whiteboard, fingerprints on the piano lid.

She smiled.

It already felt like hers.

She set her bag down and started tidying up first—stacking unused handouts, aligning the chairs back into a semicircle, wiping down the whiteboard. She picked up a forgotten pencil and set it on the desk at the front.

Then she moved to the piano.

She lifted the lid gently and ran her fingers across the keys without pressing them, just feeling the smooth coolness beneath her skin.

“Okay,” she murmured to herself. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

She sat down on the bench.

For a moment, she didn’t play. She just breathed.

Then her fingers pressed down softly—one note, then another. She began with something simple. A gentle progression. Slow. Clear. Intentional.

C major to A minor. F. G.

She repeated it, adjusting the rhythm slightly. Adding a soft bass pattern underneath.

The classroom filled with sound again, warm and open.

Emma’s shoulders relaxed as she leaned into it. She began layering a melody over the chords—something easy enough for beginners to follow but expressive enough to feel like music instead of an exercise.

She hummed under her breath as she played, testing phrasing.

“Okay… that’s nice,” she whispered.

She stopped and wrote a few notes down on her legal pad. Basic chord chart. Simple melody line.

She played it again, this time imagining her students sitting in front of her.

“Alright, everyone,” she said quietly to the empty room, practicing. “Today we’re going to follow this progression together. Listen first. Then we’ll break it down.”

She played it once more—slightly louder, clearer.

The melody rose gently in the middle, then resolved sweetly back to the root note. Not flashy. Not intimidating.

Inviting.

She smiled to herself.

“That’ll work.”

Emma leaned back on the bench for a moment, letting the last chord fade into the quiet room. The sunlight filtering through the windows hit the piano keys just right, making them glow faintly.

She felt steady.

She opened her laptop and uploaded the chord chart to the student portal, labeling it:

Week One Practice Melody – Follow & Repeat.

Then she checked her email, answered two quick questions from students about tuning apps, and added a note about recommended practice time.

Before standing up, she played the melody one more time.

This time she closed her eyes.

For a few seconds, she forgot about schedules and pregnancy and tension and anything else waiting outside the room.

It was just her.

And the music.

When she finally stopped, she rested her hands on the keys and whispered softly to herself, “This feels right.”

And for the first time since stepping back into teaching, she wasn’t nervous.

She was home.