“When I’m fat and old
And my kids think I’m a joke
‘Cause the stories that I’ve told,
I tell again and again”
I am not sure how the years manage to fly by so fast. I’ve known Freya for seven years now and my heart still flips in my chest when she uses that smile that’s especially reserved for me. I can’t believe we’re twenty-five now, I still feel like a boy.
Okay, maybe not when I look at my beautiful wife with her very pregnant belly. She’s due any day and she has to stay at the hospital for observation. Naturally, I’m right by her side.
I’ve been terrified at the aspect of being a father. I’m not sure I can be a good one but I know Freya will be a wonderful mother and hopefully she can make up for my mistakes. I make up stupid stories and I know the nurse is annoyed at me but it’s worth it for every grin I earn from my wife.
Maybe, I’m bias but Freya looks as beautiful now as she did on our wedding day and the very first day I met her. She’s changed and grown but she’s still my Freya. Slowly but surely, all of her doubts have faded away.
“You know, when I’m fat and old and my kids think I’m a joke, I hope you still put up with my silliness. You know I’m refusing to grow old and I definitely won’t act my age.”
She burst into laughter. “You are already a joke, age or a kid or two won’t change that.”
“Will you still love me when I can hardly walk and my hair is falling out?”
“Of course, babe. You’ll look gorgeous bald,” she answers.
“What about when the stories that I’ve told, I’ll tell again and again?”
“You already do that too,” she says and rolls her eyes.
“’Cause I love the stories and our kids will be told them until their ears fall off.”
She shakes her head; she knows I mean all of our stories. Then she yawns, being pregnant is exhausting her.
I go down to grab us some food and when I return, she’s soundly asleep. However, my eye catches something that wasn’t there before. A black-bound leather notebook lays on the nightstand with a torn off paper on top that says ‘Read me – it’s time’ in her handwriting.
To be honest, I had forgotten about that notebook but I recognise it now. It was the one she wanted to give me on our first Valentine’s Day together.
I pick it up and sit down in the chair besides her. Her breathing is steady and she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she was worried about how I would react to the words inside the notebook.
I flip it open and see her handwriting filling out the entire page first page. I gulp and begin reading. Unwillingly, tears run down me cheeks and I stop multiple times to glance at the woman I love. I can’t believe she felt this way the entire time.
When she wakes up, I’m rereading it for the fourth time. She jolts awake and her hands reach for mine instinctively.
“You okay?” she asks with a voice hoarse from sleep.
“More than okay. I love you. I love this book, those words… I wish you would have told me sooner but I’m just happy we’re here now.”
“Me too,” she says and smiles the brightest smile I’ve ever seen. “I love you.”
“I love you, babe, and you too, baby,” I say, to her and her belly respectively.
YOU ARE READING
Solos from FOUR
FanfictionA short love story based on and inspired by Louis Tomlinson’s solos from the album “FOUR”. As we progress through the songs, so does their relationship.
