Chapter 262: Stories from Home

“Okay, pick one, little lamb.”

Leitana lay nestled across Ravial's lap on the wide, plush couch in the cozy library. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows, warming the wooden floors and rows of books that lined the walls. Beyond the open windows, the distant hush of ocean waves blended with the peaceful silence of the room.

Ravial held up two books for her to choose from.

One was a beautifully bound collection of traditional Vanuatu folktales and legends. The other was a well-loved romance set among the Pacific islands, its worn pages softened by years of rereading.

Leitana looked up at him, one hand resting over the gentle curve of her belly as she settled more comfortably against his chest.

“Mi want the stories from home,” she whispered, pointing to the book of legends. “Mi miss hearing dem. Read dat one for mi, mi Ravial.”

A quiet fondness softened his features. Setting the romance aside, he opened the book and began to read. His deep voice rolled through the library, slow and steady, each word carrying the soothing rhythm of a lullaby.

Leitana closed her eyes, listening as ancient island spirits, fearless warriors, and old magic came alive between the pages. His free hand drifted through her curls before settling over her stomach, tracing slow circles through the fabric of her dress.

Every so often he paused to brush a kiss across her forehead or steal one from her lips before returning to the story.

“You are my favorite story,” he murmured during one pause, his voice warm with quiet certainty. “The only one I never want to end.”

Leitana buried her face against his chest as tears of quiet happiness stung her eyes.

For a little while, the weakness in her body and the weight of time slipped into the background. There was only Ravial's voice, the steady stroke of his hand, and the comfort of being wrapped safely in his arms.

He turned another page.

“This one is called The Boy Who Married the Moon,” he said, amusement already creeping into his voice.

Leitana smiled and nestled closer.

He cleared his throat with exaggerated importance before continuing.

“Long ago, there was a clever boy who fell in love with the Moon. Every night he sang to her until she grew so fond of him that she descended from the sky and became his wife. But the Moon was terribly demanding. She refused to cook, refused to clean, and instead made the boy fetch fresh starlight every evening for her bath.”

Leitana snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth.

“Starlight for bath? Mi would ask for coconut oil instead!”

The corner of Ravial's mouth lifted.

“The boy grew tired of climbing into the heavens every night, so he filled a coconut shell with seawater and called it ‘starlight.’ The Moon bathed in it, became furious, and turned the boy into a crab. That is why crabs still walk sideways today. They are trying to escape angry wives.”

Leitana doubled over laughing, instinctively cradling her belly.

“Poor crab boy! Mi would be angry too if mi husband gave mi seawater instead of starlight!”

Ravial looked down at her, one brow lifting beneath the blindfold.

“If you ever demand starlight for your bath, little lamb, I'll simply pull the Moon from the sky and place her at your feet. No tricks required.”

Leitana's smile softened.

“Yu would do dat for mi?”

“Without hesitation.” His expression remained perfectly solemn. “Though I would probably have to fight the Moon for it. She sounds high-maintenance.”

Another laugh escaped her as she poked his chest.

“Next story! Mi want de weird one about de flying yam.”

Ravial sighed with theatrical resignation as he flipped the page.

“Ah, yes. The Flying Yam That Refused to Be Eaten. This one is... remarkable.”

He resumed reading.

“There once was a magical yam that grew legs and wings. Every time a family tried to cook it, the yam flew away while shouting insults in the ancient tongue. One day, a lazy chief chased it for three days and three nights until the yam finally agreed to be eaten—but only if the chief promised to name his first son after it. The chief agreed. That is why, in certain villages, some boys are still named ‘Yam’ to this day.”

Tears gathered in the corners of Leitana's eyes as another fit of laughter escaped her.

“Yam?! Mi would cry every day if mi name was Yam! Poor boy!”

Ravial lowered the book, adopting a thoughtful expression.

“If our son starts growing legs, wings, and insulting me from inside the womb, I'm blaming you and your side of the family.”

Leitana gasped in mock offense and swatted his chest.

“Yu no blame mi! Our son will be perfect and sweet like mi!”

Ravial leaned down until his lips brushed hers.

“He'll be perfect,” he murmured. “He's ours.”

She smiled into the kiss before tugging him back for another.

“One more,” she whispered. “Read mi one more.”

He let out an exaggerated groan but reopened the book, one hand settling over the curve of her stomach as another strange tale from her homeland filled the room.

The next hour passed in easy laughter, Ravial's dry observations, and Leitana's delighted interruptions whenever a story became particularly ridiculous. Neither of them wanted the afternoon to end.

When he finished another absurd tale, Leitana stretched with a contented sigh before a mischievous grin spread across her face.

“Mi feel like dancing now,” she declared, sitting up a little straighter. “De stories make mi want to move. Come on, mi Ravial... put on some music!”

Ravial raised an eyebrow beneath the blindfold, the corner of his mouth lifting with quiet amusement. He helped her to her feet before crossing to the old wooden cabinet tucked into the corner of the library. Resting inside was the vintage record player he had painstakingly restored just for her. He thumbed through the small collection of records they'd picked up during their market visits before selecting one.

The needle settled onto the vinyl.

Warm guitar chords and the bright strum of a ukulele drifted through the library as a classic Vanuatu string band song filled the room. Tufala burst to life, its lively melody and joyful Bislama lyrics celebrating love, laughter, and dancing beneath the stars.

Leitana gasped, her whole face lighting up.

“Eh! Yu know dis one?!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “Dat's mi favorite!!”

She was moving before the first verse had finished.

Her steps were light and buoyant, hips swaying effortlessly to the rhythm while her bare feet whispered across the polished wood. Her hands painted graceful stories in the air, every movement effortless and full of joy. Pregnancy had softened her dance, making each sway gentler, but it hadn't stolen an ounce of her radiance. Her curls bounced as she sang along, slightly off-key and completely unbothered.

“Yumi tok tok, yumi laugh laugh… come dance wid mi, no worry worry!”

Ravial stood watching her for a moment, arms folded, unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips.

Then, to her complete surprise, he stepped onto the floor beside her.

He slipped effortlessly into the rhythm.

Every movement was smooth and assured, his footwork precise without ever looking rehearsed. He reached for her hands, guiding her through a slow turn before drawing her back against him, careful to give her belly plenty of room. Together they moved as one, her bright, playful energy balanced by his calm, practiced grace

Leitana stared up at him, laughing.

“Mi Ravial! Yu can dance?! Since when?!”

“I've had many years to learn a few things,” he replied, guiding her into another gentle turn.

The library door creaked open.

A young kitchen maid stepped inside carrying a tray laden with fresh coconut water, tropical fruit, and warm biscuits. She stopped short, blinking at the unexpected sight before her.

The feared, blindfolded master of the estate was dancing with his pregnant wife... and smiling.

Leitana noticed her immediately and waved with an excited grin.

“Come! Dance wid us!”

The girl hesitated, her gaze flickering nervously to Ravial.

He simply inclined his head, his quiet smile all the permission she needed.

Relief washed over her face. She hurriedly set the tray on a nearby table before joining in, shyly copying Leitana's swaying steps.

The music carried through the house.

Curious faces appeared at the doorway. One staff member wandered in, then another, until laughter replaced hesitation. Soon the library had become an impromptu dance floor, hands clapping, hips swaying, and bare feet tapping against polished wood in time with the lively string band music.

Leitana moved from one person to another with effortless warmth, yet she always found her way back into Ravial's embrace. Each time he caught her without fail, one steady hand settling at her waist or over the gentle curve of her stomach as his quiet laughter blended with the song.

For those precious moments, the ancient being was simply a husband hopelessly in love, surrounded by island music, laughter, and the woman who had quietly become the center of his world.