Our first days as a family passed in a blissful haze, each one filled with a sense of contentment I had never known. Life took on a new rhythm, slow and easy, centered around the simple pleasures of our shared days. William and I spent our mornings exploring the seaside town with Ava, getting to know its winding streets and quiet corners. Every person we met welcomed us warmly, and soon it felt like we'd always been part of this place.
One evening, William suggested a small family tradition—something to mark our new beginning. "How about a Sunday dinner?" he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "We cook together, just the three of us, and take turns choosing the meal. It'll be something to look forward to each week."
I loved the idea. There was something grounding about creating a tradition of our own, something that was uniquely ours. And when Sunday arrived, Ava practically burst with excitement as we let her choose the first meal: homemade pizza.
