Luca didn't want to smile, but it was hard not to when Martin was bouncing on Laura's hip. He sometimes wondered if she fed him battery acid.

If someone were watching from an angled distance, they would capture the moment as a dad arriving home from work, welcomed by mother and child.

Subconsciously, Luca perceived the same picture. He had to squint around to confirm there wasn't a paparazzi drone hovering.

"Hello, champion," Laura greeted behind the open door with Luca standing at full height. Luca greeted her back with a nod while assessing the physical well-being of both of them.

Afterwards, he shut the door and locked the car before he held Martin by the back of the head and kissed him on his forehead. Martin insisted on being carried after a long time, so Luca lifted him away.

"You're still here," he accused Laura cordially, stating the fact.

Laura shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "We thought we'd give our host an actual goodbye," she replied, rehearsed. "You left us without closure."

This was the thing about people like Laura. They knew how to make the temporary feel permanent. They knew how to place a mug in the plate rack like it belonged there.

And before you realized it, your house was a museum of their fingerprints, making them unforgettable.

"Alright. Let's go in," Luca said after a while, and Laura followed.

The main door made a suction sound as it shut. Seconds later, Luca placed Martin in his exersaucer, where the boy bounced and spun around.

Laura was pleased to hear that Luca hadn't had breakfast. She quickly made something, still delicious despite her rush, and while Luca ate, she hovered to still feel useful.

After the meal, Luca went upstairs, seemingly avoiding her later questions about his Brazilian experience. Laura felt like she had pried too much, so she let him have his isolation.

But when Luca didn't come down for hours, she grew uneasy. Eventually, he emerged late in the evening, dressed in what looked like running gear—grey shorts, black meggings, a black tee, and a running watch.

Laura thought it was now or never. She positioned herself near the doorway, timing their encounter so it wouldn't look like she had deliberately planned it.

Luca removed his earbuds when he saw Laura in his peripheral vision. She was holding a folded piece of paper, small enough to hide in a palm

"What's this?" he asked.

Slightly shy, Laura answered, "It's a list of some things I was hoping you might join me and Martin in before we leave. You're leaving for China soon, I think? So… before that."

Luca looked at her skeptically before he unfolded the paper and read it.

Three items. Short and respectful. Written in the most elegant cursive he had ever seen.

1. Martin's first swimming

2. Martin's first park and picnic

3. Martin's first sensory play

There were seven more things Laura had wanted to write, like lunch at the café by the estate gate, a movie night, and a visit to the city aquarium.

But she knew she wasn't worth Luca's entire time. Not yet.

Luca looked up at her after reading, his skepticism far from dissolved.

Something told him this list had been crafted with the intent of spending time with him, not actually Martin, despite "Martin" being deliberately repeated in every activity.

Only one thing on the list mattered to him: the swimming. A six-month-old in a pool could be dangerous, so Luca wanted to be there for the child's safety.

Besides, summer was here. It would be nice to enjoy the season.

"I'll do the swimming alone," he said.

Laura didn't hide her disappointment well, but she smiled anyway. "That's okay. Really."

Without another word, he jogged off into the dusk.

Running was the only time Luca could think without being interrupted by life. The estate spread wild, miles of pathways slicing through the grass, the silence broken only by distant traffic beyond the region.

Even after completing the Daily Quest of running 8 km, Luca kept going, his footsteps finding an eternal rhythm, his breath disappearing from his awareness.

As he ran, the question that struck him every time didn't miss attendance.

'What would life have been like if my father hadn't died so early?' Luca wondered.

Would he have been a different man? More emotional? Less calculated? Would he have grown softer? Or harder?

Luca didn't know. He only knew that death changes people. In his case, he had changed twice.

He didn't want to undergo another metamorphosis.

Exhaling, Luca shook off his thoughts.

China. This season. The championship. Those were all that mattered.

Evening fell in a warm glow, carrying the smell of potato soup and chicken. Laura had gone full chef mode again.

The food wasn't extravagant, but Luca liked how lively it tasted. What he found suspicious was Laura's accuracy. She had never cooked anything he disliked. She had never added a single ingredient he avoided, not a single dish that was against his personal athletic principles.

For someone as notoriously picky as Luca, that was uncanny.

Laura served his plate first. Halfway through the meal, she said, "We'll leave the day after the pool. I promise."

Luca nodded, meaning he found it fair. But something in Laura's eyes said she wouldn't have minded staying longer.

~~~~~~~

The next day, Luca woke up to a message from his manager, Mallow, saying that they were having a mid-year review at his house in the afternoon.

In attendance would be everyone in the team, Mallow himself, Sara, Vance, Manuela, and their legal crew, too. They would all garrison at his house.

Luca sometimes forgot he was running a business here. This wasn't unusual, even though he found it unanticipated.

As a team working toward the same goal of a successful Luca Rennick career, they ought to gather physically for review, appreciation, contribution analysis, the whole CTA and KPI cycle of athlete support.

There was nothing wrong with this, and there was nothing wrong with using his house as the venue, but Luca felt his chest get heavy.

Why was he anxious?

Laura was here. That was why.

But why did it feel like a problem? Why did it feel like guilt? There was nothing morally wrong with a woman and her baby being in the house.

Yet, Luca found himself rehearsing how he'd explain the situation.

He broke the news to Laura that morning about who he was expecting. When he spoke, he expected her to maybe plan some logistical cover-up, something like: "I'll stay upstairs," or "I'll pretend I'm not here," or even "We'll leave early."

But her reaction was nothing like that.

Laura had been praying to be seen.

"Oh! That's great!" She beamed. "I'll bake for them. And I'll serve everything when they come."