Chapter Text
The seatbelt felt tight across Momo’s chest, but she knew it was just the nerves twisting in her stomach. Outside the car window, unfamiliar houses blurred past. She glanced at the front seats, where her moms sat in a heavy, shared silence that felt different from their usual easy quiet. Nayeon’s hand rested on Jeongyeon’s on the center console, her thumb stroking gentle, repetitive circles.
They were driving to say goodbye to a grandpa she’d never met.
Her moms had explained it in simple terms that felt anything but. He was Nayeon’s dad, but they hadn't spoken in a very, very long time. There was no album full of photos of them together, no funny stories about him. There was just this sudden, somber duty. Nayeon had been staring out her own window for most of the ride, her reflection showing a deep and complicated sadness. Jeongyeon just kept driving, her jaw set, a silent, steady anchor in the storm of unspoken feelings. Momo took a deep, shaky breath, the air tasting of the car’s vanilla freshener and something vaguely like rain. She had to be strong for them.
When they finally pulled into the driveway, warm yellow light spilled from the windows of Sana and Jihyo’s house. It looked impossibly cozy, a beacon of warmth against the cool, dark evening.
“Ready, little peach?” Nayeon asked, her voice soft and a little strained as she turned around. The smile she offered didn't quite reach her eyes.
Momo just gave a hesitant shrug, her fingers tightening on the worn straps of her pink backpack. She really, really liked Sana, who always smelled like cinnamon and gave the best, all-encompassing hugs. But tonight, her house felt like a new planet, and Momo wasn't sure if she liked staying there.
Jeongyeon clicked her seatbelt off and opened her door, letting the crisp night air rush in. “Come on, champ. Deep breaths. We’ll walk you to the door.”
Momo’s small hand was swallowed up in Jeongyeon’s as they walked up the stone path. The crunch of gravel under their feet sounded too loud in the quiet evening, each step amplifying her anxiety. Before they could even think to ring the bell, the front door swung open, revealing Sana as a whirlwind of sunshine, her smile wide and brilliantly friendly.
“There’s our special guest!” she chimed.
Behind her leg peeked Tzuyu, half a year younger than Momo, her dark eyes wide and curious. A fluffy white cannonball of energy, Gucci, skittered out onto the porch, his nails clicking on the stone as he let out a series of sharp, excited yaps.
Momo knew Gucci. She knew he was a friendly dog who liked to lick her face until she giggled. But the sudden, loud noise and the chaotic movement were too much for her already frayed nerves. She flinched violently and immediately ducked behind the solid safety of Jeongyeon’s leg, her knuckles turning white as she clung to the rough denim of her mom’s jeans. She didn't want to let go.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Jeongyeon said softly, her hand coming to rest on Momo’s head. “You know Gucci. He’s just happy to see you.”
Momo just shook her head fiercely, burying her face deeper into the fabric of Jeongyeon’s pants, trying to block everything out.
Nayeon knelt down, her face level with Momo's hiding spot. “Momo- little peach, look at me. It’s Tzuyu. You were so excited to play with her new Lego set, remember? She’s been waiting for you.”
A muffled, tear-thick “Don’t wanna,” was the only reply.
Sana’s bright energy immediately softened, her perceptiveness kicking in. She gave a quiet command, and Gucci instantly sat, his tail thumping a gentler rhythm on the floor. She knelt down too, her expression patient and kind. Seeing that Momo’s face was still hidden, she tried another approach and switched to the familiar, comforting cadence of Japanese.
"Momo-chan, it's okay. I've been waiting for you."
The familiar words were a magic key, a secret language of comfort in this new, overwhelming place. Momo risked a tiny peek from behind her mom’s leg. Sana’s smile was no longer dazzlingly big, but small and knowing. Seeing she had an opening, she continued in that same soft, silky tone.
"Gucci surprised you, didn't he? I'm sorry. He was just a little too excited to see you. She then tilted her head slightly. It's warm inside the house. Jihyo is baking sweet cookies. Doesn't it smell nice?"
Momo unconsciously took a tiny sniff. She could smell it—a faint, delicious scent of cinnamon and sugar that cut through the chilly night air. Her white-knuckled grip on Jeongyeon’s jeans loosened just a fraction. Seeing this, Sana smiled and played her final card.
"And besides, Tzuyu has been wanting to show you her Lego castle all day. She even has a special princess minifigure ready and waiting just for you, Momo-chan."
As if on cue, Tzuyu took a shy step forward, holding out her small hand to show Momo the tiny, plastic princess.
The world seemed to shrink back to a manageable size. It was no longer a big, scary house, but a warm place that smelled like cookies, with a friend holding out a special gift just for her. Slowly, hesitantly, Momo took one small step out from behind the safety of Jeongyeon's leg.
Nayeon saw the movement, and relief washed over her features. She knelt beside her daughter, her voice full of pride. “Hey there, brave girl. Do you think you might want to stay?”
Momo gave a tiny, hesitant nod, her eyes still on the little princess.
“Okay,” Nayeon said, her voice earnest and soft. “And listen, you have your brave protector Kookeu with you. But if you feel scared, or if you really, really don't want to stay, you tell Sana to call us. We will turn right around and come get you, no matter what. It's okay to change your mind. We promise.”
That was it. The promise. The lump in her throat finally started to dissolve. The fear in her chest didn't vanish, but it loosened its grip. Jeongyeon enveloped her in a tight, strong hug, pressing a kiss into her hair. “You be good. We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon to pick you up, okay? That's my brave girl.”
Momo hugged her back fiercely, pressing her face into the familiar scent of her mom’s shoulder. She took one last shaky breath and pulled back just enough to say, “It’s okay. I have Kookeu with me.” She tugged at her backpack, showing them the little plush raccoon, its button eyes peeking out of the side pocket.
Nayeon’s eyes welled with a mixture of pride and relief. She knelt and kissed Momo’s forehead, her lips warm. “Look at you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Being so strong for us. You’re our little hero tonight, you know that?”
They kissed her one last time. As she watched their car's red taillights disappear down the street, Momo felt a tiny, sharp pang of panic. But then Sana’s warm hand was on her shoulder, solid and reassuring, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“There you go,” Sana said softly, her voice a warm contrast to the chilly air. “Let's get you both inside before that brave princess gets cold.”
Tzuyu was still standing in the doorway, her hand shyly outstretched, offering the little Lego princess with its painted-on smile. The invitation was quiet, but clear. Momo looked from the tiny figure to Tzuyu’s hopeful face, took a small, steadying breath, and took a tentative step forward, gently taking the princess from Tzuyu's hand.
Sana’s hand left her shoulder but was quickly replaced by a gentle nudge toward the warm, welcoming light of the house.
Tzuyu, her mission successful, turned and started leading the way down a hallway. She walked with a quiet determination, glancing back every few steps to make sure Momo was still following. They passed a bright, open living room and an archway that led into the kitchen, where Momo caught a glimpse of Jihyo, her back to them as she moved with a calm, focused energy at the counter.
Tzuyu’s room was at the end of the hall. The door was already open, and inside, it was a sleepover paradise. A string of warm, star-shaped fairy lights was draped across the ceiling, casting a gentle, dreamy glow over everything. Instead of a second bed, a cozy fortress had been built on the floor, a nest of pillows, fuzzy blankets, and a floral duvet arranged over two chairs.
In the center of the room, on a large, soft rug, sat the Lego castle. It was a sprawling, magnificent creation with mismatched towers, a tiny catapult, and a little plastic dragon guarding the gate.
“Wow,” Momo breathed out, the word a small puff of air.
Tzuyu’s cheeks pinked with pride. She pointed a small finger at the tallest tower. “That’s the wizard’s tower.”
Momo shuffled over and knelt by the rug, setting her backpack down. This felt like something she could handle. She slowly unzipped her bag, took out her pajamas and toothbrush, and placed them neatly on a pillow in the fort that Sana indicated was hers. Then, she took out the most important item. Kookeu the raccoon was carefully placed on top of the pillow, positioned so he could survey the entire room like a furry king on his throne.
Just as she was settling in, a new voice called from the doorway. “I hear the royal party has arrived.”
Momo looked up to see Jihyo, wiping her hands on an apron. “I trust the journey was a safe one? I’m making hot chocolate and fresh-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies to celebrate.”
The offer of cookies was an undeniable treaty of peace. A real, genuine smile finally bloomed on Momo’s face. “Okay!”
With the promise of treats on the way, the last of the ice between the two girls melted. Tzuyu began to show Momo all the secrets of the castle: a trap door, a hidden treasure chest, and a knight who was secretly in love with the princess. Soon, Momo’s quiet murmurs turned into soft giggles. She introduced Kookeu to the kingdom, deciding he was a sneaky raccoon spy sent from a rival land made of candy. The plastic clatter of Lego bricks and the invented, high-pitched voices for their characters filled the room.
An hour melted into two. From the hallway, Sana and Jihyo occasionally peeked in, sharing a soft, knowing smile at the sight of the two girls, heads bent close together, completely lost in their shared imagination.
Later, Jihyo returned with a tray carrying two big mugs of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and a plate of still-warm, gooey cookies. The girls abandoned their game and scrambled into their blanket fort, sitting cross-legged as they accepted the treats.
Momo took a sip of the rich, chocolatey drink, the warmth spreading all the way to her toes. She looked over at Tzuyu, who now had a comical milk-and-marshmallow mustache above her lip. A bubbly giggle escaped Momo’s chest, loud and unforced. Tzuyu saw her laughing, crossed her eyes, and giggled too.
In that moment, nestled in the fort, the heavy blanket of anxiety that had been draped over Momo all evening was gone. It had been replaced by the warm, soft blankets of their fort, the sweet taste of chocolate, and the easy comfort of her friend. She thought of her moms, but the thought wasn't a pang of panic anymore. It was a distant, gentle love, a quiet confidence that they were okay, and that she was okay, too.
Their cozy snack time was eventually interrupted by Sana poking her head into the fort. “Alright, my little Lego architects, official summons from the kitchen! The queen requires your presence for a royal feast.”
The "royal feast" turned out to be even better than Momo could have imagined. Set on brightly colored plates were crispy, golden dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets—a T-Rex next to a Stegosaurus—a mountain of creamy, homemade macaroni and cheese, and a little forest of broccoli trees for the dinosaurs to munch on. The conversation was light and bubbly, mostly revolving around which dinosaur was the strongest and the ongoing saga of the raccoon spy, Kookeu. Momo found herself talking and laughing easily, even arguing playfully with Sana over who got the last Pterodactyl nugget.
After dinner, with the dishes cleared, Jihyo pulled a colorful box from a nearby shelf. “Anyone up for a game of Starlight Safari?”
The four of them gathered on the soft rug in the living room. The game was simple; they had to roll a die and move their little animal figures across a board, collecting sparkly, glow-in-the-dark stars. Jihyo was calm and steady, Tzuyu was quietly focused, and Sana was outrageously dramatic, groaning loudly when she landed on a "lose a star" space and cheering for everyone else with equal enthusiasm. Momo got swept up in the fun, shrieking with laughter when Sana’s monkey figure had to go all the way back to the start, and feeling a thrill of victory when her little panda was the first to collect all its stars.
"I have been defeated!" Sana declared, falling backward onto the rug and draping an arm over her forehead. "Outsmarted by the world's sneakiest panda! Oh, the tragedy!"
Momo and Tzuyu dissolved into a fit of giggles at her antics. Jihyo just chuckled, already starting to gather the sparkly star pieces. "Alright, you dramatic monkey, the safari is over for tonight. As a reward for such a great game, how about we get extra cozy for a movie?"
At the mention of a movie, Sana sat up, her defeat miraculously forgotten. She grinned at Momo, her eyes sparkling. “I think that’s a brilliant idea. And we heard from a little bird that a certain panda’s favorite movie is Monsters, Inc. Is that right?”
Momo nodded vigorously, her eyes wide with delight.
They piled onto the big, comfortable sofa, and Gucci the dog hopped up to curl into a warm, furry ball at their feet. Jihyo emerged from the kitchen with a giant bowl of popcorn, and Sana draped a huge, fluffy blanket over all of them. As the opening music of the movie began, Momo snuggled deep into the cushions between Tzuyu and Sana. She knew every word, every scene. She mouthed along with Mike Wazowski’s lines and gasped at the part with the door vault, even though she knew what was coming. Seeing Boo’s infectious giggles light up the screen, Momo felt a wave of pure, simple happiness.
By the time the credits rolled, both Momo and Tzuyu were blinking slowly, their small bodies heavy with sleep. Big yawns stretched their mouths.
“Okay, little monsters,” Jihyo said softly. “Time to get you to your beds.”
After brushing their teeth and changing into their pajamas, the girls crawled back into their blanket fort in Tzuyu’s room. The fairy lights were the only illumination now, casting a gentle, magical glow. Momo clutched Kookeu tightly as she and Tzuyu snuggled down under the covers.
Sana and Jihyo settled at the entrance of the fort, a well-loved picture book open between them. “Tonight’s story,” Sana whispered, “is The Bear Who Borrowed the Moon.”
Jihyo began to read, her voice was the calm and steady narrator. When she got to the first line of dialogue from the main character, her voice dropped into a low, rumbly tone. “'Oh dear,' grumbled Bartholomew the Bear. 'It is so very dark tonight.'”
Momo giggled into her pillow. A few sentences later, a new character appeared, a tiny firefly. Sana leaned in, and in a tiny, high-pitched, zippy voice, she chirped, “‘Don’t you worry, Mr. Bartholomew! I’ll light the way!’”
They continued like that, a perfect team. Jihyo was the deep-voiced bear, the wise old owl, and the gentle narrator. Sana was the squeaky firefly, a family of chattering squirrels, and the whispering wind. The girls were utterly captivated, their sleepy eyes following the pages, their breathing growing slower and deeper with each turn.
By the time Jihyo read the final line, Tzuyu was already fast asleep. Momo’s own eyelids felt like they had weights on them. She felt a soft kiss on her forehead from Jihyo, and then another from Sana, who gently tucked the blanket around her shoulders.
“Goodnight, Momo-chan,” Sana whispered.
“Sleep tight,” Jihyo added, just as softly.
The last thing Momo saw before her eyes drifted closed was the soft, starry glow of the lights above her. The promise Nayeon had made—that they would come back for her if she needed them—felt like a memory from a different lifetime. She didn’t need it.
Sleep found her quickly, pulling her down into a deep, dreamless quiet where laughing monsters and brave raccoon spies chased each other through fields of Lego flowers. For hours, the only sounds were the soft puff of Tzuyu’s breathing beside her and the gentle hum of the house at rest.
Outside, however, the world was changing. The calm, clear night had drawn a dark veil across the stars. The air grew heavy, thick with an unspoken energy, and the leaves on the trees stilled. A low, distant rumble, so faint it might have been a passing truck, vibrated through the foundation, but inside the blanket fort, Momo slept on, deaf to the world's warning. Her peaceful dreams dissolved into nothingness, leaving her vulnerable in the deep, silent dark of the unfamiliar room.
She was jolted awake by a sudden, brilliant flash of white that bleached the room for a split second, turning the Lego collection into ghostly silhouettes and the shadows in the corner into looming monsters. Her eyes flew open. Before she could even process the light, a sound cracked through the quiet. It was a sharp, angry tear, as if the sky had ripped itself in half right over the house.
A scream lodged in her throat, a choked, agonizing knot of terror with no air to give it sound. Her entire body seized, going rigid from her toes to the roots of her hair. The rabbit in her chest started a frantic, painful thumping. Another flash seared her vision, this time through her squeezed-shut eyelids, and the sound that followed was a vicious, splintering CRACK-BOOM that felt like the ceiling right above her was splitting apart.
Her breath was gone. She tried to pull in air, but her throat had clamped shut. She gasped, a pathetic, high-pitched squeak that only made the tightness worse. A thick, crushing weight settled on her chest. The darkness was pressing in, suffocating her, and the silence roared in her ears, louder than the thunder. Tears, hot and blinding, streamed down her face, but she couldn't make a sound. She was drowning. Here, alone in the dark, in this strange bed, in this strange room, she was going to drown in the air itself. Her small chest heaved, pulling in useless, shallow breaths that gave no oxygen, each one a sharp, stabbing pain. She wanted her moms. She wanted Jeongyeon’s strong arms and Nayeon’s soft voice, but they were gone. She was alone, and the world was ending right outside the window.
Suddenly, the bedroom door creaked open, spilling a soft slice of light from the hall. A silhouette stood framed in the doorway. “Momo?” Sana’s voice was a sleepy whisper. “Did the thunder wake you…?”
Her voice trailed off as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She saw her. A small, trembling shape tangled in the blankets, her face pale and slick with tears in the dim light. Sana’s own heart gave a startled lurch at the sight of the pure, animal terror in Momo’s wide, unseeing eyes. She could hear the girl’s breathing—quick, sharp, panicked gasps that sounded painful. She moved quickly, sinking to the floor beside the fort so she was at eye level. She kept her hands visible and still, knowing that a sudden touch might feel like an attack.
“Hey, sweet peach. The loud clouds are being very rude tonight, aren’t they?”
Momo could only manage a choked, desperate sob, her body still shuddering with each useless gasp for air.
“I know. I know it’s scary,” Sana soothed. “It feels like you can’t breathe, but I promise you, you can. Your body is just a little confused by the noise. But you are safe. The house is strong, and I am right here with you.” She took a slow, deliberate breath. “Can you try and breathe with me? Just a little bit. In… and out. That’s it.”
Momo’s gaze darted around wildly, unable to focus. Her breathing didn't change.
“Okay, that’s okay,” Sana said, her voice impossibly gentle. “Let’s play a little game to help your brain feel safe again. Look at me. Can you find five things in the room for me? Anything at all. We can name them together.”
Sana waited, her expression patient and open. It felt like an eternity before Momo’s frantic eyes seemed to latch onto something.
“The… the lamp,” Momo gasped out, each word a monumental effort.
“Good,” Sana praised softly. “That’s one. What else?”
“The… Castle.”
“There’s the Castle. That’s two.”
“Tzuyu’s… hair.”
“I see it. Perfect. Three. Two more.”
“The… window.”
“Yes, the window. One more, peach. You’re doing so, so good.”
Momo’s eyes, still swimming with tears, finally landed and focused on the calm face in front of her. “You.”
““Me,” Sana affirmed, her voice a soft anchor. “That was perfect. Now four things you can feel. Take your time. Can you feel the blanket in your hands?”
Momo nodded, her fingers digging into the fleece. “Blanket. P-pillow.” The familiar, thin cotton of her own shirt felt damp and stuck to her skin. “My… my pajamas.” She felt a single, warm tear escape and slide down her temple, tracing a hot path into her hairline. “Tears.”
“That’s a good one,” Sana said, her voice full of a gentle warmth that seemed to push back the darkness. “Tears are absolutely allowed. Now let’s just breathe for a minute. We’ll do it together. In for four, and out for four.” She began to breathe, audibly and slowly, a rhythmic sound in the quiet room. “In, two, three, four… Out, two, three, four.”
Momo tried to match her. Her first breath was a shaky, snagging thing, a painful hitch in her chest. The second was a little deeper, a little smoother. By the fourth, she could feel the iron band around her ribs loosening its grip. The world, which had felt so tight and small, began to expand back to the size of the room.
“That’s it,” Sana murmured, sensing the shift. “You’ve got it.” She finally reached out, slowly, and laid a warm hand on Momo’s arm.
Momo let out a long, shuddering sigh and leaned her full weight sideways, collapsing against her.
Sana immediately put her arms around her, pulling the small girl into her lap and holding her securely. She knew from Nayeon and Jeongyeon that Momo could be hesitant with physical contact, so she understood this was a significant sign of trust. She began rubbing slow, soothing circles on Momo's back with one hand.
“You’re okay,” she whispered into Momo’s hair. “I’m right here.”
Momo’s hands, which had been tightly clenched in the blanket, finally relaxed. She weakly took hold of the fabric of Sana’s pajama shirt and buried her face in Sana's shoulder.
Just then, the thunder rumbled again, a low sound that passed through the floor.
Momo’s body tensed, and her small hands tightened their grip on Sana’s shirt. This time, however, she didn't panic. She just pressed closer.
Sana held her a little more firmly in response. “Shhh, it’s just noise,” she murmured. “It’s outside. It can’t get in here.”
The storm still muttered outside, but it was a background noise now, a distant grumble muffled by the feeling of being held. The rain had settled into a steady, rhythmic shushing against the windowpane. For a long moment, they just stayed like that in the dark of the blanket fort, Sana’s chin resting on top of Momo’s head. Momo’s breathing evened out, deepening with the heavy exhaustion that follows a panic attack. She became aware of the soft glow of the fairy lights above them, the quiet puff of Tzuyu’s sleeping breath from the other side of the fort, and the steady, solid rhythm of Sana’s heartbeat beneath her ear.
Finally, Momo stirred, shifting her weight just enough to lift her head. “Sana-chan?”
“Hmm?”
“How did you know what to do? The counting and the breathing.”
Sana was quiet for a moment, and her thumb began to stroke Momo’s arm in a slow, soothing rhythm. “I guess because I had a lot of practice, when- when I was your age, my tummy used to feel like a box full of jumpy frogs a lot of the time.”
“Jumpy frogs?” Momo murmured, intrigued.
“Mhmm. Especially at night. Or when things were too loud. Or when I felt… a little bit lost,” Sana explained. “It was before I had my forever family. Sometimes, when you’re waiting for your people, your heart gets a little extra wobbly.”
Momo processed this. She knew her own story, of course. Nayeon and Jeongyeon had told her a thousand times, a fairytale of love and waiting and finally, a perfect match. She had never thought about anyone else having a story like that. “You waited too?”
“I did,” Sana confirmed. “For a little while. And then my parents found me, just like your moms found you. But I never forgot what the jumpy frogs felt like.” She squeezed Momo’s shoulder gently. “And I learned that when they show up, you just have to give them something to do, like counting colors. It helps them calm down.”
A profound sense of understanding settled over Momo, a connection that ran deeper. It was a secret thread that tied their hearts together. Sana wasn’t just being nice; she knew. She knew the particular ache of a heart that had to wait to find its home.
“They chose you good,” Momo whispered, her own logic making perfect sense to her.
Sana’s breath hitched for a tiny second, and she pulled Momo into a proper hug, tucking Momo’s head under her chin. “They did,” she whispered into her hair. “And your moms chose you even better. You were the most chosen peach in the whole world.”
Momo relaxed completely into the embrace. The jumpy frogs in her tummy were gone. The wobbly feeling in her heart was gone. Her chest, which an hour ago had felt tight and small, now just felt tired and calm. They sat in a comfortable silence for a long moment, the only sound the soft patter of the rain outside. With the fear gone, all that was left was a deep, simple ache.
Still speaking in their shared, quiet language, she whispered, “Sana-chan… my moms… I want to hear their voices.”
Sana felt a pang of sympathy so sharp it almost hurt. Of course she did. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all night,” she answered, as if Momo had suggested the most brilliant plan in the world. She didn't let go, just shifted the girl's weight onto one leg, keeping a secure arm around her back while reaching into the pocket of her pajama pants with her free hand. She pulled out her phone, the screen lighting up the small space with a sudden, blue-white glow. She shielded Momo’s eyes from the harsh light with her hand.
“Okay,” she whispered, her thumb quickly finding Nayeon’s name in her contacts. “I’m calling them right now. I bet they’d love to hear your voice.” She pressed the call button.
The phone rang twice before the screen lit up with Nayeon’s face, her expression shifting from sleepy confusion to sharp worry in a heartbeat as she took in the scene—the dim, makeshift fort, the fairy lights, and Momo’s tear-stained, exhausted face. “Sana? What’s wrong? Is Momo okay?” Jeongyeon’s face immediately appeared beside hers on the screen, equally concerned.
Sana’s voice was a low, immediate reassurance. “She’s safe. Everyone’s safe. The storm just gave us a bit of a scare. There’s a very brave little girl here who wanted to see her moms.” She carefully angled the phone so Momo was the main focus.
Momo looked at the screen, at the two faces she loved more than anything. Her throat felt tight. “Hi, Mommy.”
A wave of visible relief washed over Nayeon’s face. “Oh, peach,” she breathed, her eyes shining. “Oh, my sweet girl, look at you. We were just talking about you. It’s a loud night, isn’t it?”
“It was scary,” Momo whispered, her gaze fixed on the screen. “The boom was right on top of us.”
“I know, baby. I am so sorry we’re not there, but you were so brave. Your Mom is right here, she wants to say hi.”
Jeongyeon’s face moved closer to the camera, her usual playful smile replaced with one of gentle concern. “Hey there, champ. You hanging in there?”
A tiny, watery giggle escaped Momo. “The loud clouds are leaving,” she reported, leaning her tired head back against Sana’s shoulder.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Jeongyeon said, her smile widening on the screen. “Listen, I have a secret weapon for thunder. Look at me. We’re going to count the seconds between the lightning and the boom. For every five seconds, the storm is one mile away.”
As if on cue, a distant flicker of light pulsed silently at the edges of the window, faintly illuminating the fort.
“There’s one,” Jeongyeon said gently, her eyes never leaving Momo’s on the screen. “Count with me, okay?”
Momo watched her mom’s face, her lips moving as she counted under her breath. “One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight…”
A low, long rumble rolled in the distance.
“See?” Jeongyeon’s expression was full of a quiet pride. “So far away. It’s moving on. You’re safe.”
“I miss you,” Momo said, her eyelids drooping.
“We miss you more than words can say, peach,” Nayeon’s voice returned. “We’ll be there to get you in the morning, I promise. Before you even finish your pancakes.”
“’Kay,” Momo mumbled, her eyes fluttering shut for a second too long.
“Did you have a good time with Tzuyu and Sana before the storm?” Nayeon asked softly, just wanting to see her daughter’s face for another moment.
There was a pause, and then a tiny, drowsy response. “Mmmhmm… played Legos… Kookeu was the… the king… his…” Momo’s voice trailed off into a soft sigh as her eyes closed completely, her breathing deepening into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.
Nayeon and Jeongyeon watched from the screen, their expressions melting into one of profound, tender relief. “Sana?” Nayeon whispered. “I think she’s asleep.”
Sana looked down. The little girl in her lap was completely limp, her face finally relaxed. She carefully slid the phone from her knee and brought her own face close to the camera. “Yeah,” she whispered. “She’s out cold. Didn’t even make it to the goodbyes.”
A low sound came through the phone, a mix between a laugh and a sigh from Jeongyeon. “Thank you, Sana. Really. For everything.”
“We’re so grateful,” Nayeon added, her voice thick with emotion as she watched the peaceful image of her daughter. “I don’t know what we would have done…”
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Sana said softly. She tipped the camera down one last time to give them a final look at Momo. “You two focus on what you need to. We’ve got her. She’s safe and sound right here with me.”
“Get some rest,” Jeongyeon said.
“You too. Goodnight, Sana.”
“Goodnight,” Sana whispered back, and ended the call.
The phone screen went dark, plunging the fort back into the soft, gentle glow of the fairy lights. The only sounds left were the steady, soft rain outside and the slow, even breathing of the little girl sleeping safely in her arms. Sana sat there for a long time, just holding her, feeling the heavy, trusting weight of Momo’s small body.
Eventually, knowing she couldn’t sit there all night, she began the delicate process of moving her. With the careful, slow movements of someone defusing a bomb, she supported Momo’s head and back, gently untangling her from her lap and lowering her onto the soft mattress of the fort. She placed Kookeu the raccoon next to her and started to pull the fuzzy blanket up over her shoulders.
But as she went to pull her hand away, she felt a tug. Momo’s little hand was still fisted in the fabric of her pajama shirt, her grip surprisingly strong even in deep sleep. Sana tried to gently pry the small fingers open, but they only tightened.
Momo stirred, her face scrunching up for a second. A tiny, distressed sound escaped her lips, and then a sleepy, slurred whisper of Japanese. “Don't go…”
Sana’s heart completely melted. All thoughts of leaving vanished. She glanced up at Tzuyu, who was breathing softly in her own bed, then looked back down at the little girl clinging to her on the floor mattress. Carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping child, she maneuvered herself into the nest of pillows and blankets, settling into the space next to her.
Momo, sensing her closeness, immediately snuggled in, her grip on Sana’s shirt finally relaxing as she rested her head on Sana’s shoulder. Sana pulled the big duvet over both of them, put a protective arm around her, and fell asleep to the sound of the rain and Momo's steady breathing.
The space beside Jihyo was cold. It was the first thing she registered upon waking.
Slowly she slid out of bed and padded down the hallway, the floorboards cool beneath her feet. She pushed aside the sheet that served as the fort's door and peeked inside, a soft smile on her face.
Sana lay in the middle, fast asleep on her back, mouth slightly open, letting out a soft but surprisingly resonant snore that ended in a little whistle. Curled into her right side was Momo, her face peaceful, one hand still resting on Sana’s shirt. On her left, Tzuyu had migrated during the night and was snuggled up against Sana’s other arm, her own blanket kicked halfway off. And at the foot of the human pile, curled into a perfect white doughnut on a stray pillow, was Gucci, his tail giving a single, sleepy thump against the floor.
Jihyo’s shoulders shook with a silent laugh. Carefully, so as not to make a sound, she pulled out her phone and snapped a photo, capturing the perfect, chaotic image. She opened her messages, found the chat with Nayeon and Jeongyeon, and attached the picture.
Beneath it, she typed: Thought you’d like to see this. Your brave girl is sleeping safe and sound.
She hit send, then looked from the picture on her screen to the real-life cuddle pile one last time, her heart feeling impossibly full. Gently, she lowered the sheet back into place and retreated, leaving them to their slumber.