After the children are put to bed, in the (few!) quiet hours in the Trainer household, Sasha makes their boudoir even more of a den of comfort than usual: soft music competes with diffusing lavender oil for the air's most pleasant occupant; their bed is piled to overflowing with pillows and cushions, a few of which have yet to receive a baptism of
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"Good evening," she murmurs, watching Sasha's silhouette move in the glass. "Come to watch the lights?"
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"Mmm. How has your day been?"
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