Yes! Mr Murphy

Part 52

The following morning, you woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon wafting through the house.

Cillian had gone for his morning run, leaving your mother alone in the kitchen, humming softly to herself while she prepared breakfast.

Her voice carried through the open door, reminding you of simpler times.

You shuffled downstairs, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

"Morning, sleepyhead," your mother greeted you cheerfully, her eyes lighting up when she saw you.

"Smells amazing," you said, leaning against the counter and watching her work. "I don't usually eat much for breakfast," you admitted though, "but I think I might make an exception today," you laughed, your mouth watering at the sight of golden, crispy bacon.

"I made enough for three," your mother remarked, sliding a steaming plate of eggs, ham, and sausages onto the table.

"Cillian should be back soon from his run," your mother noted, her brow furrowing slightly. "It is good to see that he keeps fit at his age you know," she added, pausing to sip her tea. "I met a lot of other older men that don't take care of themselves and that's not good," she mused, her eyes straying towards the window.

"He isn't that old mum," you chuckled, sitting down across from her and taking a bite of your sausage.

"Oh no darling, I didn't mean it that way. I am just saying that it is good to keep fit at his age - or at any age really," your mother corrected herself quickly, noticing the sudden change in your expression. "If he keeps fit, it will be easier for him to chase after your little chicos and chicas when the time comes, you know," she joked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Speaking of which," your mother added, lowering her voice, "Are there any in the making?" she wanted to know, desperate to have some grandchildren in her life now that her family was reunited.

"Well," you hesitated, your fork hovering precariously above your plate. "No," you sighed before turning quiet for a moment, thinking about your recent miscarriage.

You felt the weight of your loss return as a lump formed in your throat. You thought about telling your mother about it, but the words wouldn't come out.

"Maybe one day," you murmured noncommittally, averting your gaze from your mother's probing gaze as, finally, Cillian barged through the door, sweating slightly from exhaustion.

"Maybe one day?" Cillian repeated, only having caught the tail-end of the conversation.

"I just asked my daughter if and when you were planning to have children," your mother answered with a playful wink, openly teasing you both in a way that a mother does to her adult children, not knowing about your pain and heartache.

Cillian, however, could not hide his surprise as, suddenly, the mood changed and even your mother picked up on the cues.

Although she did not know about the miscarriages, she realized that something was amiss, clouding her own previous excitement.

"Did I say something wrong my dear?" your mother asked you gently as she reached for your hand across the table. "You look upset all of a sudden," she noted, her eyebrows furrowing in concern.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "No, it's just...it's a long story," you said, pulling your hand away from hers and wiping your eyes.

Cillian walked over to you and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We recently lost our baby," he began without finishing his sentence. "I mean, Y/N had a miscarriage. She wasn't that far along but we were both pretty excited," he told your mother softly, regret and sadness etched on his face.