(i)
Cid yelled at her to come outside one day and she emerged from the back of the house into the yard to find a handsome, brightly-coloured bird tethered to a rickety fence post.
"Oh! A golden chocobo. I've never seen one before."
The chocobo's plumage gleamed in the sunlight and it gave her a friendly squawk when she patted it on the head.
"He's beautiful."
He grinned. "Yeah." She had told him before that she liked chocobos; she used to have a friend called Chole who worked with them. "Guess what Cloud called it?"
"What?"
"Goldie. He's so goddamn original."
(ii)
He paced around, waiting for her to bring him a drink like she always did. His face was sweaty, and it wasn't just from the work. He had always thought that the phrase 'butterflies in the stomach' was stupid; something that only pansies would use. And yet, he had this fluttering feeling…
"Cid?" She came up to him, smiling. "Here's your tea. I've made it just how you like it-"
"Thanks," he said roughly. He took the drink and wet his lips, steeling himself. Shera looked as though she was about to go back. "No – wait!"
"What?"
"I love you."
(iii)
Babies looked cute. But they were actually miniature demons sent from the deepest pit of hell to test weary parents. Eight months after his son's birth, Cid was certain of this. Cid Junior wailed, bawled, puked, and couldn't control his own bowel movements. Mostly in the godforsaken hours of the morning.
"I never want to change a nappy again," Cid growled, as he climbed back into bed and rubbed his sore eyes.
Shera shifted, murmuring, "I'm afraid you'll have to, darling. I'm pregnant again."
That night marked the first time he paid money into the swear box for six weeks.
(iv)
"D'you remember when we were discussing baby names the last time?" Cid asked.
"Oh, yes," said Shera, "we could pick one of those – can you remember any?"
He cracked a smile. "I remember the first name I thought of."
"What was it?"
"The Valiant." He shook his head. "And then I realised that was a name for an airship, not a kid!"
She laughed. "You can name your airship after a person, but you're not naming a person after an airship."
Still, he was tempted. After all, his kids weren't just any kids. They were Highwinds. And that meant something.
(v)
The fire in the hearth crackled. It was dark, Shera was sleeping against his shoulder, and Cid gazed into the bright flames.
Fire always made him reflective. He had dreamed of seeing the stars burning in the sky. He had never dreamed that he might be happy with a fire burning in a little house, with a wife and family. But Shera felt warm and solid snuggled against him, and she sighed softly as he stroked her hair.
In the past, his eyes had burned with excitement and passion; later, with resentment and bitterness. Not tonight. Tonight, he felt content.