NOVEL WEB Chapter 220: Balance and Blueprints
October 6, 2025 — 6:30 AMRockwell, Their Apartment — Kitchen
The coffee maker sputtered to life with a quiet hiss, filling the kitchen with its familiar aroma. But the real music of the morning was happening behind Angel.
A low gurgle.
Then a giggle.
Then the soft thump-thump of a pair of socked feet kicking rhythmically against the floor of a baby bouncer.
Angel didn't turn around right away—she was measuring formula with practiced precision—but the smile tugging at her lips said it all. Aurora's babbles had become the background soundtrack of their lives. And somehow, despite the exhaustion and endless adjusting, she'd grown to love that sound more than any progress alert or dashboard ping.
"Your Highness," she said without turning, "is it too early for diplomacy?"
Aurora squealed and kicked harder, her plush bear spinning from the force.
Angel laughed quietly, pouring water into the bottle and giving it a quick shake. The infant formula mixed without bubbles—another small victory in the war of new parenthood.
Just then, Matthew shuffled into the kitchen in joggers and a loose black shirt, hair disheveled, holding a blanket over one shoulder and a baby sock in the other.
"Status update," he mumbled. "Sock #2 missing in action. Suspect attempted to eat it and gave herself away with suspicious chewing noises."
Angel turned, bottle in one hand. "You are aware we own five hundred socks now?"
"I'm aware," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "But I like the original pair. They have tiny bananas on them."
"Banana socks are a top-tier aesthetic," she agreed solemnly.
Matthew bent down to pick up Aurora and lifted her with both arms like Simba. "And here she is, the sock devourer, the crib climber, destroyer of nap schedules."
Aurora shrieked with laughter, kicking her chubby legs.
Angel handed over the bottle. "Go fuel the chaos."
Matthew walked her to the couch, bottle in one hand, baby in the other. Angel lingered at the kitchen counter, glancing at her phone.
Her Sentinel inbox was still full.
She could see headlines already waiting: Aurora Line Expansion, MRT-7 Integration Phase 2, Bataan Tunnel Dig Site Breakthrough. She had received a personal update from Karla, noting a recent Pulse system bug in southern terminals—one that had already been triaged and resolved. Her team was holding the line.
It gave her peace.
Still, she tapped out a reply:
"Great work on dispatch tracking. Let's add heat map analysis to the Q4 review. I'll join the October 20 call remotely—Aurora permitting."
She hit send and tucked the phone away.
Work was waiting.
But life was here.
And life was loud—as Aurora suddenly spit out the bottle and let out a shriek that echoed across the living room.
Angel grabbed a burp towel and moved toward them. "Everything okay?"
Matthew winced, bouncing her gently. "She's not a fan of slow flow bottles anymore. I think she's leveled up."
Angel took over and coaxed Aurora gently onto her shoulder, patting her back in a steady rhythm.
"She's four months old. She's probably hitting her growth spurt," Angel muttered. "That would explain the sudden hatred of sleep and the refusal to nap without holding a plushie hostage."
"Like mother, like daughter," Matthew teased. "You also get cranky without your morning coffee and a productivity dashboard."
Angel shot him a look, but the smile that followed made it clear—he wasn't wrong.
—
October 6, 2025 — 9:15 AMSentinel HQ — Conference Room B (Remote Call)
Angel's face lit up on the center screen, her background set to a soft ivory wall and a touch of houseplants from the apartment. She looked rested—enough—and calm. Not in a blazer, not in full power mode, but still unmistakably Angel Cruz.
"Good morning," she said, headset on. "Let's start with the Phase 4.1 updates. Grace, you're up."
The meeting ran for thirty minutes. Concise. Clear. Angel only spoke when needed, giving direction where appropriate, applauding when deserved. At one point, Aurora's soft babble echoed in the background, drawing a few smiles across the room.
No one commented. They didn't have to.
They were used to it now.
Karla sent her a private message at the end of the meeting:
"You're still the boss. Just with a sidekick now."
Angel replied with a photo of Aurora chewing on a calculator.
"Junior financial analyst. Unpaid internship."
—
October 7, 2025 — 11:00 AMRockwell — Rooftop Garden
Angel sat with Aurora on a picnic blanket near the edge of the terrace garden. A few colorful cloth blocks were scattered around them, and Aurora was gnawing at one with great determination.
Angel wore sunglasses and a linen blouse, watching the sky as clouds drifted lazily overhead.
Matthew arrived a few minutes later, holding two cups of fruit smoothie and a snack pack of banana chips.
"Feast for queens," he declared.
"Offer accepted," Angel said, accepting the drink.
He sat beside her and gently brushed a curl from Aurora's forehead. "You know, it's been four months."
Angel looked at him.
"Four months since the birth. Three and a half months of no site visits. First time in nearly a decade."
She leaned back on her arms. "Weird, isn't it?"
"Yeah. But good weird."
Angel watched Aurora bang two blocks together in triumph. "I was worried I'd lose a part of myself."
Matthew glanced at her.
"And?"
Angel smiled faintly. "Turns out I just gained another."
She looked around—the skyline in the distance, the rooftop breeze, the baby chewing plastic shapes—and breathed in.
"I still want to build," she said. "Still want to lead. But now… I want to teach too. Not just her, but maybe future engineers. Maybe younger women like me."
Matthew grinned. "You're thinking about mentoring again?"
"Eventually. And maybe reworking our parental leave policies. We've done good. But I think we can do better."
Matthew raised his smoothie. "To balance."
Angel clinked hers against his. "To blueprints and baby bottles."
Aurora sneezed, then gurgled happily.
—
October 8, 2025 — 9:00 PMRockwell — Bedroom
Aurora had just drifted off after her third round of lullabies.
Angel stood over the crib for a few long moments, watching her sleep, heart full in a way she still couldn't quite put into words.
When she turned, Matthew was waiting in bed, a tablet in his lap. He set it down as she joined him.
"Tomorrow's your board check-in," he said.
Angel nodded. "I'm ready."
"You nervous?"
"No," she said. "Not anymore."
He reached for her hand. "You've done both. Led the nation's biggest infrastructure overhaul and figured out how to burp a baby at 3 AM without waking the neighbors."
She chuckled. "I am unstoppable."
Matthew grinned. "So what's next?"
Angel turned, propped herself on one elbow, and looked him in the eye.
"We keep going. One step at a time. Sentinel still has cities to connect. Aurora still has lullabies to learn. And we—"
She placed a hand over his heart.
"We have a whole life to keep building."
Together.
Brick by brick.
Heartbeat by heartbeat.