Ian smiled. Laura had become quite an optimistic person. Almost like himself before their marriage.

Back then, the naive Ian Dalton had insisted that only happiness awaited them after marriage. His romanticism had influenced Laura, who had been a staunch realist. Now, she even used the word “fate” without hesitation, a term she once struggled to accept.

Ian liked that. He had always wanted to make Laura’s life a beautiful garden where birds and butterflies fluttered in. His wish had come true. The Laura of today was as innocent and happy as a young girl growing up surrounded by love.

And Ian, who had lived his entire life in a world of romance, had inherited a practical streak. Acknowledging even a pessimistic future as a possibility and bearing the weight of reality became his responsibility. He had truly become the guardian of her life.

“Worrying is my job. I’ll think about the misfortunes of reality and prepare for them alone. All Laura needs to do is be happy.”

Ian wore a serene, shadowless smile.

“You’re right. Our life will be filled with nothing but happiness. That’s our fate.”

A smile spread across Laura’s face as well. She seemed to believe she had succeeded in persuading her husband.

“Forget what I just said. It was all pointless worrying. Now, shall we go say hello to the twins?”

He gently caressed Laura’s swollen belly, his touch as loving as it had been in their cabin days.

“These little ones—there’s two of them, not just one, huh? No wonder the movements felt so intense. They must be fighting for space in there!”

Laura burst into laughter. Ian pressed his cheek against her belly.

“Two children at once—there’s no man happier than me. Thank you, Laura.”

Her husband’s tender voice and gentle touch brought back the happiness that had momentarily faded for Laura.

“Yes, there’s no way someone as sensitive as Ian would be wary of his own children. It must have just been a fleeting moment of concern.”

Laura’s hand brushed through her husband’s hair. His soft, dark locks, now free of dampness, wound like silk around her pale fingers.

“They might be a brother and sister. We should pick an extra name just in case.”

“This time, you choose the boy’s name, and I’ll pick the girl’s.”

“Have you thought of any yet?”

“I’ll start now. Hmm, how about your mother’s name? Dolores.”

“That’s cute.”

“Good. And maybe…”

Ian began listing names that came to mind. To Laura’s ears, they all sounded lovely.

As the night deepened and they moved to bed, Laura started thinking about names for a son. Ian, resting his head on his arm, listened to her chatter about names like Alex or Paul, all while gently stroking her round belly. He took care not to let Laura notice that he was still worried about the babies inside.

In his heart, Ian whispered, “Twins, if you come out without giving your mom too much trouble, I’ll love you with all my heart. Got it?”

As if in response, the babies sent little kicks, like a reassuring signal.

Golden spring sunlight poured over the snow-white fields of Whitefield. It was now May. Warm breezes from all directions melted the snowmen and scattered wildflower seeds across the plains.

As spring settled in, the mud dried, and the roads improved. This was welcome news for everyone, but especially for Olivia Fairfax, the golden-haired girl living at Dunville Park, it was a tearfully joyous development.

Due to Laura’s morning sickness, heavy snowfall, and muddy roads, Olivia hadn’t been able to visit Whitefield all winter. Now, she could finally see her aunt.

All winter, Olivia had fumed over her thwarted plans. Her goal had been to have her cousin named Olivia or Oliver. She gritted her teeth and spent her days making baby items.

Hats, bloomers, swaddling clothes, dresses, socks, dolls, hair ribbons, and more.

When she first started making hats, she was as clumsy as an apprentice seamstress, but after a winter of crafting baby items, Olivia’s sewing skills had improved dramatically. She could now make a baby dress with her eyes closed.

That wasn’t all. Olivia scoured department store catalogs, ordering every baby item that caught her eye, spending all her pocket money. By the time her mother permitted her to visit Whitefield Hall, Olivia had filled two oak chests to the brim with baby supplies.

Dressed extravagantly in jewels and silk, Olivia instructed the servants to load the chests onto the carriage. Soon, the carriage carrying her sped across the heather-swaying fields toward Whitefield.

With less than two months until the birth, Olivia was determined to use every means at her disposal. She planned to make up for lost time with an onslaught of gifts and daily visits filled with charm.

Her aunt Laura had many friends. From what Olivia had heard, the young mistress of the prominent Morton family and the wife of Judge Alexander McLean, a renowned magistrate, were both couples Laura had introduced.

Then there was Aunt Dora, as beautiful as a spring fairy, who had also been friends with Laura before her marriage. In the social scene, these accomplished ladies were Olivia’s rivals.

Elizabeth, Rosemary, Dora. To outshine these names, Olivia would need to maximize her aunt’s affection for her.

Olivia pulled out a hand mirror to check her reflection. In it, a beautiful girl smiled, like a yellow rosebud on the verge of blooming.

Her diligent skincare over the winter had paid off. With this level of beauty, Aunt Laura would surely be impressed. Olivia knew well that women, too, were susceptible to a woman’s beauty—she herself was living proof, utterly captivated by her aunt’s charm.

Could Aunt Laura resist a beautiful niece who visited daily, showering her with affection? By the final month of pregnancy, Laura’s love for her niece would be so deep that she’d want Olivia to stay at Whitefield forever, just as Olivia had always dreamed of living with her aunt at Dunville Park.

Around that time, Olivia would casually ask what names her aunt was considering for her cousins. And Laura would surely say, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Of course, we’ll name them after you, Olivia. I can’t imagine any other name.”

The thought alone was thrilling. Olivia covered her mouth with her sky-blue silk-gloved hand and giggled.

The carriage passed Whitefield Hall’s driveway and stopped at the entrance. Olivia stepped out with the grace of a grand duchess.

“Welcome, Miss Olivia,” said Remswick, who Hawkins’ butler, who had been expecting her arrival.

“Hello, Mr. Remswick. It’s been a while,” Olivia greeted warmly.

Her gaze fell on the orange handkerchief tucked into the pocket of Remswick’s otherwise muted suit. Having known him since she was a toddler, Olivia knew he rarely wore bright colors.

Remswick looked slightly embarrassed. “A gift from a friend. It’d feel ungrateful to just keep it in a box.”

“It suits you, sir,” Olivia said, giving him a thumbs-up. Remswick bowed politely.

“Thank you, miss. By the way, how is everyone at Dunville Park?”

“Oh, they’re fine. George caught a cold from rolling around in the snow, but he recovered in four days. Mother’s no longer buried in her fur shawl now that the weather’s warmer. And Henry’s feeling better too. He’s been out sketching in the woods for hours.”

Remswick’s smile faltered slightly at Henry’s news but quickly returned. “I see. Madam is waiting in the nursery. She wanted to come down to greet you, but the master worries about her going up and down the stairs.”

“That’s fine. Oh, Mr. Remswick, there are gifts in the carriage. Please have them brought to the nursery. All of them.”

Leaving Remswick to handle the unloading, Olivia bounded up the central staircase with unladylike strides, unable to contain her longing to see Aunt Laura. If Hermes had lent her his winged boots, she would have flown up without hesitation.

Reaching the nursery, Olivia checked her appearance one last time in her hand mirror before knocking. From inside came Aunt Laura’s voice.

“Come in.”

Olivia entered.

Inside the beautifully redecorated nursery, Aunt Laura sat in a rocking chair, reading a book.

Joy surged within Olivia like lava, but it was overshadowed by a tidal wave of shock, stifling its full expression.

Her aunt’s belly was far more swollen than expected.

Eight months along, it was only natural, but to Olivia, it was astonishing. That delicate, slender waist had ballooned to the size of a hill.

“Olivia, come in,” Laura said, her face glowing with color and a healthy fullness, smiling brightly. She looked far lovelier than she had before her pregnancy.

Olivia approached slowly. “Have you been well, Aunt?”

“Of course. It’s so good to see you after so long. Come, sit here.”

Laura gestured to a small stool beside her rocking chair. Olivia sat, staring blankly at her aunt’s belly.

“Surprised, Olivia?” Laura asked.

Olivia nodded without thinking.

“I never imagined my belly would get this big either,” Laura said.

“It looks like you’re full-term already, Aunt.”

“It’s no wonder. There are two little ones in here.”

Olivia’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Olivia clapped softly. “Congratulations, Aunt!”

“Thank you.”

Laura chuckled and leaned back in her rocking chair.

“You wouldn’t believe how heavy I feel these days. I’m always sleepy, and I eat nearly enough for two.”

“With twins, that’s only natural. You’re still beautiful, even with the extra weight, Aunt.”

Laura smiled languidly and stroked Olivia’s cheek. “Thank you, my lovely niece.”

Olivia’s cheeks flushed, her heart pounding. My lovely niece. My lovely niece. The sweet praise never grew old, no matter how many times she savored it.