The afternoon light spilled across the park in golden sheets, painting the world in the rich, honeyed hues of a dream come alive. Ivy ran barefoot through the tall, playful grass, each blade brushing her toes with a feather’s kiss, the soft earth beneath springy and forgiving. Her giggle burst free, carried on the soft summer breeze as she dashed away from the teasing hands behind her.

Daddy was coming for her.

"I'm gonna get you!" Finn called, his voice exaggeratedly menacing, though the laughter threading through it betrayed him. He stalked after her in playful, loping strides, arms extended like a cartoon villain, fingers wiggling with mock malice.

Ivy shrieked in delight and darted sideways, her tiny legs pumping, the thick diaper between them forcing a wide, waddling run. Her baby dress, frilled with layers of petticoat, flared around her like a parachute, puffing up with each movement, the pastel fabric flashing in the sun. The heavy diaper beneath it was soaked through, sagging with her every step, but Ivy didn’t care. She didn’t even notice. That was someone else's worry now—Mommy’s or Daddy’s, not hers. She was free, blissfully and utterly free.

All around them, the park pulsed with life. Families lounged beneath broad oak trees, Littles and Amazons mingling in the easy rhythm of a world at peace. Some Littles nursed contentedly from bottles, cradled in the laps of their caregivers, their faces slack with serene joy. Others sprawled in the soft grass, napping or cuddling atop thin picnic blankets. The playground nearby rang with the music of happy shrieks and laughter—the squeak of swings, the dull thump of bare feet against spongy turf, the clatter of climbing frames well used and well loved. It was a symphony of simple, radiant life.

Ivy peeled away from Finn’s grasp with another squeal, the sun catching in her hair, making it gleam like molten gold. She stumbled a little on a lump of grass, caught herself with a giggling wobble, then sprinted onward, her breath coming in delighted gasps.

But Daddy was faster.

Finn closed the gap with a triumphant whoop, swooping down and scooping Ivy up into the air as if she weighed no more than a leaf. Ivy screamed with laughter, legs kicking uselessly as he spun her around once, twice, the world blurring into dizzying streaks of blue sky and green earth.

"Got you!" Finn crowed, cradling her close to his chest and immediately launching a full-scale tickling assault on her sides.

Ivy wriggled in his arms, squealing helplessly, her hands flailing, her thickly padded bottom bouncing against his hip. She could feel herself leaking laughter and happiness in equal measure, the soaked diaper squishing between her thighs, a perfect, inconsequential background to her pure, rapturous joy.

Finn settled her against him at last, holding her with one arm while brushing the hair from her eyes with the other. His face shone with pride and affection so fierce that it almost hurt to look at. He kissed her forehead, then chuckled into her hair.

"You," he said, voice thick with warmth, "are the sweetest little thing."

Ivy buried her face against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of him—soap, fresh grass, a hint of something uniquely, ineffably Daddy.

The park buzzed and shimmered around them, a world spun from laughter and sunlight and the safe, steady heartbeat she could hear against her ear.

Daddy's fingers continued their merciless dance along Ivy’s ribs and tummy as he carried her back across the sun-dappled field, each step jostling her in his arms and drawing peals of breathless giggles from her lips. She squirmed and kicked, batting at his chest with tiny, ineffective hands, but he only chuckled low and warm, shifting her higher against his shoulder. Their little camp nestled under the sprawling arms of an ancient oak tree. A soft blanket was spread out in the cool shade, strewn with toys, bottles, and the pleasant detritus of a day well spent.

Finn settled down with a gentle grunt, setting Ivy onto the center of the blanket with a bounce that sent her frilled dress puffing up around her ears. She sprawled onto her back, chest heaving, still giggling as she kicked her feet in the air.

A shadow fell across her.

Mommy.

Clara's hands moved with a brisk efficiency, the simple confidence of a mother tending to her most precious treasure. She hummed under her breath as she gathered the changing supplies. Ivy felt herself lifted effortlessly by the ankles, the sodden diaper whisked away and replaced with a fresh, thick one that crinkled reassuringly as it was taped snugly around her waist. She sensed the motions, her mind floating in the warm haze of trust and contentment that had become her new normal.

Clara scooped Ivy into her arms once the change was complete, cradling her against her chest with a tenderness so full it made Ivy’s throat tighten. A kiss pressed to her forehead, filled with a love so deep it seemed to soak into her very skin, before a bottle’s rubber nipple brushed her lips.

Without hesitation, Ivy latched on, suckling with slow, sleepy pulls. The taste was sweet and comforting, a balm to every frayed nerve she hadn’t even realized was frayed.

She nestled deeper into Mommy’s arms, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of Clara’s breathing against her cheek, the strong, steady thud of her heart beneath the thin fabric of her sundress. The park buzzed around them: the laughter of Littles on the playground, the distant bark of a dog, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the soft murmur of other families nearby.

And Ivy let it all wash over her.

Her life had been turned upside down—torn from one world and thrust into another, stripped of everything she had once known. In the beginning, it had terrified her. Had broken her in ways she hadn’t known she could break. But in the aftermath, in the quiet, in the countless small moments of care and tenderness that followed, something unexpected had taken root.

Love.

Not the conditional, barbed affection she had known in her old life. Not the brittle alliances, the transactional friendships, the endless, exhausting race to prove her worth. Here, under the watchful eyes of her Mommy and Daddy, she had found something simpler. Something pure.

Each diaper change, each bubble bath, each bottle pressed to her lips was not a humiliation, not a regression, but a declaration. You are loved. You are safe. You matter.

She had never known what she was missing until it was given to her without expectation, without demand.

Every waking moment, Mommy and Daddy were there: hands steady, voices soft, arms open. They didn’t just care for her—they saw her, every broken, battered piece of her soul, and loved her anyway.

The old Ivy, the one who fought tooth and nail against every hand offered to her, who bristled at every kindness, had faded, washed clean by lullabies and laughter. What remained was something whole.

It didn’t matter how strange this world was. It didn’t matter how thick the diapers, how infantile the clothes, how foreign the customs. What mattered was the truth that wrapped around her like the softest blanket: She was loved, she was home, she mattered.

And answering the call of her Mommy and Daddy had been the best decision she had ever made.

The end