Updated Apr 16, 2026 • ~12 min read
Chapter 23: Moving in Together
Luna
Luna stands in front of the Brooklyn brownstone that Matthias bought for them—”for our family,” he’d said—and tries to process that this beautiful house with its brick facade and small front garden and tree-lined street full of families is supposed to be hers, that this is the home where they’ll raise Sofia and build a life together instead of Luna’s cramped Queens apartment that barely fits the two of them let alone three.
“What do you think?” Matthias asks nervously, his hand finding hers while Sofia runs ahead to examine the front steps with three-year-old enthusiasm. “I know I should have asked before buying it, but when I saw it, I just knew it was perfect for us. But if you hate it, we can look at other places—”
“Matthias,” Luna interrupts, squeezing his hand. “It’s beautiful. But this is huge. Moving in together, this house—that’s a really big step.”
“I know,” Matthias says, and he turns to face her properly, both hands holding hers now. “But I want us together. A real family under one roof. Not me visiting your apartment or you visiting my penthouse. I want Sofia to have her own room that’s actually hers, not a temporary space. I want you to have a kitchen that’s bigger than a closet. I want us to wake up together every morning and go to bed together every night. I want this, Luna. If you’ll have me.”
“You bought a family house?” Luna asks, the enormity of it settling over her—that Matthias didn’t buy an investment property or a bachelor pad upgrade, he bought a home designed for the three of them, chose this specific house because it would work for their family.
“For our family,” Matthias confirms. “If you’ll have me. If you’ll say yes to building this life together.”
Luna looks at the house again—at Sofia running up and down the front steps, at the neighborhood full of kids riding bikes and families walking dogs, at the tree in the front yard that’s perfect for climbing when Sofia gets older, at the home that Matthias chose for them—and she feels her last protective walls crumble completely.
“Okay,” Luna says, and her voice comes out thick with emotion. “Yes. Let’s do this. Let’s move in together.”
Matthias’s smile is blinding, and then he’s kissing her right there on the Brooklyn sidewalk while Sofia giggles from the front steps, and Luna kisses back thinking that this is it, this is the moment when their family becomes official, when they stop maintaining the fiction of separate lives and admit that they’re building something permanent.
“Can I see my room?” Sofia asks when they finally pull apart, and Matthias laughs.
“You absolutely can,” he says, unlocking the front door and ushering them inside.
The house is perfect—there’s no other word for it. Not like Matthias’s cold penthouse with its designer furniture and impersonal decor, but warm and lived-in and clearly chosen with a family in mind. Hardwood floors that can handle kid messes, a living room with built-in bookshelves perfect for Sofia’s growing collection, a kitchen with an actual dining area where they can eat meals together, and upstairs—
“This is your room, Sofia,” Matthias says, opening a door to reveal a bedroom that makes Sofia gasp with delight.
It’s decorated like a princess castle—pink walls with hand-painted flowers, a canopy bed draped in sheer fabric, shelves full of books and toys, a small reading nook by the window with cushions and stuffed animals, and in the corner, a little table set up for tea parties with chairs just Sofia’s size.
“You did this yourself?” Luna asks, seeing the small imperfections that suggest amateur work rather than professional decorator—the flowers painted at slightly different heights, the hand-sewn canopy that’s charming in its imperfection.
“I wanted it to be from me,” Matthias admits, looking almost embarrassed. “I watched YouTube videos about painting murals. It’s not perfect—”
“It’s perfect because you made it,” Luna says, watching Sofia explore every corner of her new room with unbridled joy. “Matthias, this is… you really did this for her?”
“I wanted her to feel at home immediately,” Matthias says. “Not like she’s moving into my space, but like this is her space. Her room. Her home.”
Luna feels tears gathering because this man—this billionaire CEO who probably hasn’t painted anything himself in decades—spent hours creating a perfect room for a daughter he’s only known for a few months, put thought and care and actual manual labor into making Sofia feel welcome and loved.
Their bedroom is next door to Sofia’s, decorated in neutral tones that feel restful instead of cold, with a king-sized bed and windows that overlook the small backyard, and Luna can already imagine waking up here, seeing Matthias beside her, hearing Sofia’s footsteps in the hallway as she comes to climb into bed with them on weekend mornings.
“There’s an office you can use,” Matthias says, showing her a small room set up with a desk and bookshelves. “For when you need quiet to work or just space to yourself. And the backyard—Sofia will love it in the summer. We can get a swing set maybe, or a sandbox.”
“We,” Luna echoes, testing out the pronoun that implies partnership and shared decisions. “I like how that sounds.”
“Me too,” Matthias says, pulling her close. “So you really like it? You’re really saying yes to moving in?”
“I’m really saying yes,” Luna confirms. “Though Matthias, I can’t afford half the mortgage on this place. My salary—”
“Is yours to keep,” Matthias interrupts gently. “Luna, I bought this house outright. No mortgage. And I don’t want your money. I want you and Sofia here, building a home with me. The financial stuff—we’ll figure it out. Maybe you contribute to groceries or utilities if it makes you feel better. But I’m not asking you to pay rent to live in your own home.”
Luna wants to argue about fairness and partnership and not being financially dependent—but she also knows that Matthias’s wealth is so vastly different from hers that trying to split costs fifty-fifty would be ridiculous, would mean her entire salary going to household expenses while barely making a dent in actual costs.
“We’ll figure it out,” Luna agrees, deciding to trust that they can navigate the financial inequality the same way they’ve navigated everything else—with communication and compromise and focus on what actually matters.
They spend the afternoon planning the move—Matthias arranging for professional movers to handle Luna’s apartment, Luna making lists of what they’ll need for the new house, Sofia bouncing between rooms claiming spaces and imagining how she’ll arrange her toys—and by the time they leave to get dinner, Luna feels like this house isn’t just Matthias’s purchase but actually their home, the place where their family will live and grow and build memories.
The actual move happens two weeks later, professional movers transferring Luna’s modest belongings from Queens while Matthias supervises and Luna tries not to feel embarrassed about how little she owns compared to the vastness of their new house—her furniture barely fills two rooms, her entire life fitting into a few dozen boxes that look lost in the Brooklyn brownstone.
“We’ll make it ours,” Matthias promises, seeing her uncertainty. “Your things and my things and new things we choose together. It doesn’t have to be perfect immediately, Luna. We’ll build it over time.”
Sofia adjusts to the new house with the easy adaptability of a three-year-old, claiming her princess castle room as her favorite place in the world and insisting on showing everyone who visits (Carmen, Greta, even Helene during one awkward but civil visit) every detail that “Daddy made special for me.”
Luna takes longer to feel at home, catching herself sometimes referring to “Matthias’s house” instead of “our house,” hesitating before rearranging furniture or adding her own touches—but slowly, gradually, she starts to relax into the space, starts to claim ownership of the kitchen and the living room and the small garden she’s started planting with herbs.
Their first real fight in the new house happens three weeks after moving in, a stupid argument about dishes that escalates because they’re still learning how to cohabitate, how to navigate each other’s habits and expectations—but they work through it, apologize, establish routines that work for both of them, and Luna realizes that this is what family looks like: not perfect harmony but genuine effort to communicate and compromise.
Sofia’s fourth birthday falls one week later, and Matthias is more nervous about it than Luna has ever seen him—ordering decorations, researching age-appropriate party games, asking Carmen approximately fifty questions about what four-year-olds like, clearly desperate to make his first birthday with Sofia absolutely perfect.
“Matthias, it’s fine,” Luna assures him the night before while he’s assembling goodie bags with the intensity of someone defusing a bomb. “Sofia will be happy with cake and presents. You don’t have to go overboard.”
“It’s her first birthday with me,” Matthias says, carefully placing stickers into tiny bags with precision that’s frankly adorable. “I missed three birthdays already. This one has to be special.”
And it is—Sofia wakes up to the living room transformed with purple and pink streamers (her current favorite colors), a homemade banner reading “Happy 4th Birthday Sofia!” in Matthias’s handwriting, and a stack of presents that makes Luna’s eyes widen because it’s definitely too many but she can’t bring herself to scold him when he’s looking at their daughter with such pure joy.
Sofia’s reaction is everything Matthias hoped for—screaming with delight, jumping up and down, launching herself at Matthias with a hug that nearly knocks him over while shouting “Best birthday EVER and we didn’t even have cake yet!”
Carmen and her kids come over for the party, along with Greta and surprisingly Helene, who brings Sofia a beautiful vintage German children’s book and actually smiles when Sofia thanks her with a sticky kiss on the cheek.
They sing happy birthday—Matthias crying through the entire song because of course he does—and Sofia blows out her candles with such enthusiasm that she accidentally spits all over the cake, and everyone laughs instead of being grossed out because that’s what family does.
“Did you make a wish?” Luna asks after Sofia catches her breath.
“I wished that Daddy lives with us forever,” Sofia announces, apparently not understanding that wishes are supposed to be secret. “And that we get a puppy. But mostly the Daddy thing.”
“The Daddy thing is already true,” Matthias says, his voice rough with emotion as he pulls Sofia into his lap. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. Forever and ever.”
“Promise?” Sofia asks, holding up her pinky.
“Promise,” Matthias confirms, linking his pinky with hers in the most solemn four-year-old contract imaginable.
Luna watches them together—her daughter who just turned four, and the man who’s been her father for less than a year but loves her like he’s been there since the beginning—and thinks that this is what Sofia’s birthdays should always look like: surrounded by people who love her, celebrated and cherished and safe.
Later that night, after Sofia crashes hard from sugar and excitement, after Carmen and Greta leave with leftover cake, after Helene gives Luna an awkward but genuine hug goodbye, Matthias finds Luna cleaning up wrapping paper in the living room.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
“For what?” Luna asks. “You planned the whole party.”
“For letting me be part of this,” Matthias says. “For giving me the chance to celebrate her birthday. To be her dad. To be here. I know I don’t deserve—”
“You do,” Luna interrupts, crossing to him and taking his hands. “You’ve earned this, Matthias. You show up every single day. You love her. You’re exactly the father she deserves.”
“She wished for me to stay forever,” Matthias says, and there are tears in his eyes again. “That’s what she wants. Me. Here. Forever.”
“Then it’s a good thing that wish already came true,” Luna says, and she kisses him while birthday decorations flutter around them and their daughter sleeps upstairs in the princess room he painted, and their family feels complete and perfect and exactly right.
One month after moving in, Luna wakes up to Sofia climbing into their bed at six in the morning, wedging herself between Luna and Matthias with her stuffed elephant, and Matthias automatically shifts to make room without fully waking, and Sofia curls against Luna’s side with complete contentment—and Luna realizes this is home now, this bed and this house and this life they’re building together.
“Good morning, Mama,” Sofia whispers, not wanting to wake Daddy.
“Good morning, baby,” Luna whispers back, and she looks around the bedroom—at Matthias sleeping peacefully beside her, at Sofia’s toys scattered in the corner where she was playing last night, at the family photos they’ve started hanging on the walls, at the evidence of their life together—and feels overwhelmingly grateful.
This is what she wanted for Sofia from the moment she found out she was pregnant—a family, a home, a father who’s present and loving and committed to being there.
This is what she wanted for herself even when she was too scared to admit it—partnership, love, someone to share the burden and joy of parenting instead of carrying everything alone.
This is theirs now.
Not Matthias’s house that Luna is staying in.
Not a temporary arrangement until they figure out what they are.
This is their home.
Their family.
Their forever.
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