𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 | 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡

bonus chapter

In the hush of the night, a plaintive cry shattered the stillness, rousing Cordelia and Treech from their sleep. With a tired sigh, Cordelia began to stir, her movements halted by Treech's gentle touch as he intercepted, a silent assurance etched upon his features.

"I'll handle it," Treech whispered softly, tucking the sheets snugly around Cordelia as she offered a murmured expression of gratitude before succumbing once more to the embrace of sleep.

The weight of motherhood, heavy upon her shoulders, had left its mark, a testament to the relentless demands of caring for their children. With Rowan, their firstborn, now five years old, and little Kai barely four months into the world, the nights blurred into one another, each marked by the symphony of infant cries and parental care.

With practiced ease, Treech rose from the warmth of their bed, his steps purposeful as he made his way to the nursery, the soft glow of moonlight casting ethereal shadows across the floor.

Rowan stood resolutely by the crib, her young face etched with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion, her arms tightly crossed over her chest in a display of defiance. "He's hungry," she declared with a tone that betrayed both irritation and weariness. The incessant cries of her baby brother, echoed in the dimly lit room, a constant reminder of the unrest that had permeated their household.

Sensing his daughter's distress, Treech approached with a reassuring gentleness, his hands moving with practiced ease as he lifted Kai from the confines of the crib, his touch a comforting balm against the infant's ceaseless wails. With a tender smile, he beckoned for Rowan to follow.

As Treech ambled down the dimly lit hallway, his sturdy frame cradling his infant son, Kai, nestled against his chest, and his daughter, Rowan, trailing closely by his side, the weight of fatherhood hung heavy upon his shoulders. The soft padding of their footsteps echoed in the quiet stillness of the late night, punctuated by the occasional whimper from Kai, whose cries had roused them from their slumber.

With a gentle sigh, Treech guided Rowan to the nearby table, her sleepy eyes still heavy with the remnants of sleep. Seating herself with a yawn, she watched intently as her father moved with practiced efficiency, his movements fluid and sure as he prepared Kai's bottle, a ritual born of countless sleepless nights and tender moments shared between father and son.

In the cozy glow of the kitchen, Treech cradled Kai in his arms, the warmth of his son's tiny form a soothing balm against the chill of the late night air. With tender care, he expertly measured out the formula, his movements guided by a father's instinct honed through love and dedication. As Kai's cries gradually subsided, replaced by the soft gurgles of contentment, a sense of tranquility settled over the room, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond that united them as a family.

Rowan, her legs swinging idly from the edge of the chair, glanced up at Treech with a hopeful expression. "Can I have some pudding?" she inquired, her voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

Treech, his attention momentarily diverted as he settled Kai into his highchair, turned back to face Rowan with a quizzical expression. "Pudding? At this hour?" he echoed, a note of incredulity lacing his words. Rowan met his gaze with a pleading look, her desire for the sweet treat evident in the earnest tilt of her head. "Please?" she implored with a slight nod.

However, Treech shook his head gently, his resolve unwavering. "No," he replied firmly, his tone softened by a hint of amusement at Rowan's persistence.

"Please, I'm hungry," Rowan implored, their stomach grumbling with hunger. The mere thought of Iris's pudding sent their taste buds into a frenzy of anticipation. There was something truly magical about Iris's pudding, a culinary masterpiece that had earned its place as the epitome of gastronomic delight. Its ingredients remained a closely guarded secret, known only to Iris herself, but its secret ingredient was undeniably love, woven into every decadent spoonful.

"Mom always gives me a small bowl when Kai wakes up," Rowan added with a wistful smile, reminiscing about the tender night rituals shared with their sibling. The memory of those cherished moments, accompanied by the creamy indulgence of Iris's pudding, lingered fondly in Rowan's mind, a comforting beacon of warmth and nourishment in their hunger-filled plea.

Treech's gaze locked onto Rowan, a flicker of disbelief dancing in his eyes as he absorbed her words. Across from him, Rowan met his stare with a pleading expression, her eyes wide and shimmering with a familiar innocence that tugged at his heartstrings. Those puppy eyes, he knew them well – they were the windows to her soul, revealing her every desire with unwavering clarity.

"I won't tell mom," Rowan persisted, her voice a soft murmur that hung in the air like a fragile promise. In that fleeting moment, Treech found himself caught in a whirlwind of deliberation, weighing the gravity of his daughter's request against the consequences it might entail.

A silent contemplation enveloped him as he pondered the implications, each passing second a testament to the internal struggle raging within. Ultimately, swayed by the earnestness in Rowan's gaze and the unspoken bond that tethered them together, Treech relented, conceding to his daughter's plea with a silent nod of acquiescence.

"Alright, but this stays between us," Treech whispered with a conspiratorial tone, his voice barely above a murmur as he carefully retrieved a bowl of creamy pudding from the refrigerator, along with a spoon for Rowan. With deliberate movements, he settled into a chair at the worn kitchen table, placing the bowl enticingly in front of Rowan.

As Rowan's eager eyes lit up at the sight of the dessert, Treech's attention turned to the delicate task of tending to Kai. With practiced ease, he scooped Kai out of the high chair, cradling him tenderly against his chest, his touch gentle and sure as he offered the bottle to his son. Each moment, a tender symphony of care and devotion, unfolded in the intimate sanctuary of their kitchen, a testament to the unbreakable bonds that bound their family together.

Rowan bore a striking resemblance to Treech, their features mirroring each other with uncanny precision. From the sparkle in their eyes to the curve of their noses and the cascade of curly hair framing their faces, it was as if they shared a reflection in the mirror of genetics. Every smile, every gesture, seemed like a shared legacy, passed down through generations with a sense of familial continuity.

In contrast, Kai seemed to inherit more from Cordelia, at least for now. His delicate features echoed hers with a subtle grace, their eyes holding the same depth of emotion, their noses tracing a familiar line, and their smiles echoing a shared warmth. Yet, it remained too early to discern the full extent of his resemblance to his mother. Like a canvas waiting for the artist's brushstrokes to bring it to life, Kai's features held the promise of future similarities, a testament to the interplay of genetics and time.

As the final drops of milk disappeared from Kai's bottle and Rowan savored the last spoonful of pudding, Treech, with gentle determination, scooped up his son in his arms, his other hand tenderly guiding Rowan towards her room. With each step, the weight of fatherly responsibility settled upon his shoulders, a comforting burden borne of love and devotion.

Nestled within the bundle of their shared sanctuary, Treech lingered in the dim glow of his children's room, cradling Kai close to his chest. The rhythmic rise and fall of his son's breaths, accompanied by Rowan's animated recounting of the pudding's deliciousness, painted a tranquil tableau of familial bliss. With patient tenderness, Treech listened intently to Rowan's musings, his heart swelling with pride at the innocence and wonder in his child's voice.

As the night wore on and the lullabies of sleep beckoned, both Rowan and Kai succumbed to the gentle embrace of slumber, their breathing soft and steady against the backdrop of the night. With a bittersweet sigh, Treech carefully laid Kai back into his crib, pressing tender kisses upon the crowns of their heads, a silent vow of protection and love whispered into the stillness of the room.

With reluctant steps, Treech bid his children goodnight, the warmth of their dreams enveloping him as he retreated to his room. In the quiet solitude of his room, he found comfort in the knowledge that, amidst life's uncertainties, the love he shared with his children would forever remain steadfast and unwavering.

authors note:
here's a bonus chapter that i wrote a month ago. i wasn't planning on posting this, but i just thought it'll be nice to see a bit of dad treech.

*not proofread/ignore any grammar mistakes*