The One

Midnight Chats

 After the harrowing ordeal that followed the shocking revelation and her relentless crying episode, both mother and son trudged back to their home. As they stepped through the door, the comforting aroma of home-cooked dinner wafted from the kitchen, where William and Anna busied themselves with pots and pans, creating a symphony of sizzling sounds and delightful scents.

"Grandpa, grandma, we're home," she playfully announced yet her voice barely above a whisper, the weight of her emotions heavy in the air.

"Welcome back, my munchkins," Anna beamed, her warmth enveloping them like a soft blanket.

"Go shower and get dressed, dinner's about to be served," William instructed, his voice a gentle command filled with affection.

Karol, still ensnared in the depths of her sorrow, remained silent as they climbed the staircase to their bedroom. An hour later, they emerged, dressed in their night attire, only to be greeted by a surprising sight—Christian was unexpectedly present.

"Cute pyjamas," he remarked, his gaze flickering with playful admiration as he glanced from his mate to their son. Luka was clad in bright Superman pyjamas, brimming with childlike excitement, while Karol wore a striking red two-piece nightdress, its vibrant hue contrasting sharply with her gloomy mood.

Ignoring the playful exchanges, she was withdrawn, her mind swirling in a tempest of thoughts. She subtly linked with Luka, whispering through their bond, 'Baby boy, ask your father why he's here.' Luka turned his wide eyes first to his mother, then to his father curious.

"Daddy, why are you here?" he queried, innocence painting his features.

"To see my mate and my son, of course," his father replied, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes.

With an exaggerated eye-roll from Karol, the family settled at the dining table. William commanded the head of the table, flanked by Luka and Anna on his right, while Karol and Christian occupied his left side, a delicate balance of tension and warmth lingering in the air.

After a delicious dinner that spoke of love and tradition, they shifted to the living room. Luka's laughter rang out as he played with his toys, while the adults engaged in light-hearted conversation, artfully dodging the sensitive issues that hung like dark clouds over Karol and Christian.

As bedtime approached, Karol rose, excusing herself and Luka, while the others retreated to their rooms. Before she could slip away, Christian grasped her hand gently.

"Karol, can I talk to you, please?" he asked, his tone earnest.

"Let me put Luka to bed first," she replied.

"Let me join you then," he insisted.

"What do you want to read, baby?" she asked, her heart softening at Luka's eager face.

"Ferdinand, mummy," Luka chirped, hope sparkling in his eyes.

"Okay then, Ferdinand it is," she smiled warmly.

"Can Daddy read for me, mummy? Please?" Luka's wide, pleading eyes were impossible to resist.

With a tender smile, she handed the storybook to her mate, who accepted it with a joyful glint in his gaze. He began to read, the words flowing like a gentle stream.

"Once upon a time, there was a little bull, and his name was Ferdinand. All the other little bulls he lived with would run and jump and butt their heads together. But not Ferdinand. He liked to sit just quietly and smell the flowers. He had a favourite spot out in the pasture under a cork tree."

As Christian neared the end of the story, Luka's eyelids grew heavy, lulling him into a peaceful slumber. Both parents exchanged fond smiles, a shared moment of warmth amidst the chaos of their lives. She rose from the bedside, extending her hand for the book, and he dutifully returned it to her.