"Thwank you, Mummy," little Zami said, taking the bottle from Mira with a warm, smile. Mira nodded quietly, her heart swelling as she looked at her daughter, then shifted her gaze to Zamian. She couldn't help but wonder how he always seemed to know exactly when Zami was about to turn around. Just a second before, he'd moved his hand away, as if he'd sensed it coming. Was it some kind of instinct? Or did he know their daughter so well that he could anticipate her every move? Whatever it was, it felt uncanny, as if he could read their daughter's mind.
Her heart raced a little as she considered how close they'd been to being caught in an affectionate moment. There was a thrill in the secrecy of it—she wanted to laugh, but the closeness they'd almost shared left a lingering warmth, a reminder of how much she still craved him.
Mira turned to Zamian, a small smile tugging at her lips.
