Laylani, pronounced lay-LAH-nee, unfurls with the measured grace of a Kyoto lantern released at dusk, its sound at once crisp and diaphanous; born as a modern variant of the Hawaiian Leilani—lei, the fragrant garland, meeting lani, the expanse of heaven—yet brushed by the velvety echo of the Arabic Layla, “night,” it balances sunrise bloom and midnight hush in a single breath. Such liminal beauty conjures a lei of moonlit plumeria drifting between ocean and sky, a tableau that feels simultaneously Pacific and quietly Japanese, like cherry petals floating on dark water. Parents, entranced by this cool serenity, have ushered Laylani along the U.S. name charts since the early 2000s, drawn to its rarefied aura, its promise of a child who carries both celestial light and nocturnal calm, much as a silver koi glides beneath ripples of reflected starlight.