Chapter 89 The Portrait Of Us

• The plane touched down smoothly, and I shifted Leo slightly in my arms, careful not to disturb his peaceful sleep. His small, warm body was pressed against mine, his tiny breaths soft against my shoulder.
• I cradled him closer, shielding him instinctively from the cool breeze that filtered in as the plane door opened. I didn’t want him to wake; he’d barely slept during the flight.
• The flight attendant, the same one who’d been so kind earlier, held the small bag I’d carried on. She offered a sympathetic smile.