"Deal."
The negotiation made everyone laugh, the sound filling our nest with warmth that had nothing to do with temperature control. This was us, business and pleasure, independence and togetherness, choosing each other daily while maintaining ourselves.
My phone buzzed with a text from my mother.
Watched the stream. Still proud. Still terrified. Still learning.
I showed it to the pack, watching their expressions soften. We'd all come so far from those first panicked days.
"Think the baby will be an Omega?" Milo asked suddenly.
"Doesn't matter," we all said in unison, then laughed at the synchronization.
And it didn't. Whatever this child was, they'd grow up seeing that independence and love weren't mutually exclusive. That biology and choice could dance together. That family came in all formations, and the only thing that mattered was choosing each other, again and again, in front of millions or in private moments.
The credits might have been rolling on our origin story, but the real narrative, messy, complicated, beautifully imperfect, was just beginning.
"Next video idea," I announced. "Reading hate comments while the baby kicks."
"Monetizing the haters," Nova said approvingly. "I've taught you well."
"You've taught me spreadsheets. The pettiness was all me."
Outside, life continued. Inside our nest, our perfectly imperfect family existed in a moment of pure contentment. The girl who'd built walls had learned to build bridges instead. The pack who'd prepared for an unknown Omega had found their perfect match. The world watched our journey unfold in carefully curated segments, but this? The quiet moments, the silly arguments, the gentle touches, the shared laughter? This was just ours.
And it was exactly enough.
Tonight, we just existed, together, proof that you could have everything, independence and connection, career and family, choice and biology, if you were brave enough to believe you deserved it.
Past me would be horrified and proud in equal measure.
Current me wouldn't have it any other way.
