One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 116: Chapter 116

Sunlight poured through gauzy curtains, warm and golden, as if the sky itself was blessing what unfolded within the nursery.
The walls had been painted a soft celestial blue, dotted with delicate white clouds, tiny hand-drawn stars, and faint constellations—one for each child, carefully marked.
Arielle stood in the center of it all, her fingers resting lightly on her belly as she turned slowly, absorbing it—the crib, the quilt Iris had sewn, the storybooks Jonah alphabetized, the little wooden rocking horse Elijah had refinished with his own hands.
Lily stood beside her, clinging to her mother’s leg and clutching a baby rattle like a sacred relic.
“Is baby coming tomorrow?” she asked.
Arielle laughed softly. “Maybe not tomorrow, sweet pea. But very soon.”
The family had worked together like they were weaving a spell.
Jonah had insisted on glow-in-the-dark stars, placing each one meticulously across the ceiling, then climbing down and laying flat on the floor to check the pattern from the baby’s future perspective.
“I want them to see something beautiful when they cry at night,” he explained.
Elijah hung floating bookshelves near the reading corner. “Start ‘em early,” he said, smiling faintly. “Smart kids take over empires.”
Iris painted a border of golden vines around the room. It shimmered under the lamplight, catching even the smallest flicker of illumination.
“It’s a charm,” she whispered. “To protect them when they dream.”
Later, they gathered around the crib, placing small objects inside a memory box Arielle had prepared: a photo of all of them, Lily’s tiny sock, Elijah’s first bowtie, Iris’s favorite paintbrush, Jonah’s old soccer medal.
“Why are we giving baby our things?” Lily asked, eyes wide.
“So they know,” Arielle answered, “they were loved before they ever opened their eyes.”
That evening, Damien came in quietly, holding a soft white blanket.
“It was mine,” he murmured. “Mom used to swaddle me in it. Somehow I kept it all these years.”
Arielle took it gently, folded it with care, and laid it into the crib.
The air in the room shifted.
Heavy with memory.
Bright with hope.
Before they left for dinner, Arielle paused at the door.
The room glowed behind her, faint as candlelight.
She placed her hand on the doorframe and looked at her children.
“Leave it slightly open,” she said softly.
“Why?” Elijah asked.
“So the baby always knows,” she whispered, “they’re never alone.”
The hallway fell silent.
Even Lily seemed to understand something profound had just been spoken.
That night, as the wind whispered outside and the ocean sang to the moon, Arielle walked past the nursery once more.
She stopped.
Looked inside.
And smiled.
The soft glow remained, like a promise—quiet, sacred, and alive.
A sanctuary born of love.
Waiting.
Ready.