Soft Spot → Sylus

A Peace Of Mind

Dawn becomes your favourite time of the day. Considering your daughter was born at around 6-ish AM, it becomes a habit to wake up earlier, maybe around 5 AM. It gives you some free time to enjoy yourself without being bothered by Theia, Mona, nor anyone else really. The house staff usually starts working at 8 AM, so they'd usually only come a quarter before 8.

Slipping out of the warm embrace of the silk sheets, it takes a moment for you to stand up, eyes glued to the other side of the bed. It's been 3 days since Sylus last came home. Although you keep in contact via chat, it feels different, especially since he likes to keep his line of business a secret from you.

Pushing the thought aside, you stand up, stretching your limbs. The nightdress you wear comes down to your knees, the cotton fabric soft and comfy against the skin. It was a personal gift from Luke and Kieran after Theia was born. Sylus has yet to see it, but you assumed the nightdress would be too modest for his liking - he has a thing for showing you off, after all.

Walking out of the bedroom, you walk straight towards the kitchen. Light footsteps echo through the room as you stop by the fridge to grab a piece of leftover desert from last night, saffron infused vanilla cake. Taking a large bite, you continue to make your way to Sylus's office.

Flicking the light switch on, you saunter over towards Sylus's desk. You always keep it neat and tidy, despite him barely using the desk unless he brings his 'business allies' home. A matte red vase sits on the edge of the table, fitting a bunch of eucalyptus branches. In each branch are a couple of flower buds, but they're not yet blooming, maybe from the lack of sunlight. Taking the vase, you perched it up on the windowsill, pulling half of the curtain up so it would catch some sunlight.

The sound of a door creaks open, followed by leisure footsteps echoing through the office. A pair of sturdy arms embrace you from behind, a face you know all too well resting its chin on your left shoulder. "Miss me, sweetie?"

"What do you think?" you caress the eucalyptus buds carefully, plucking one leaf out the branch. Crushing the leaf in your hand, it emits a menthol-like scent, strong but calming. "Business?"

Sylus hums in response as he pulls his swivel chair, pulling you with his weight as you sit on his lap, the chair creaking under the weight. "Does it still hurt?" with his arms resting against your hips, his hands gently caress your stomach.

"Not really. But, we can't have sex yet," you blurt out. The image of an angry Mona comes to your mind, in which she, in a sentence underlined and bold, said 'No sex until 40 days of recovery'.

Large hands gently run down to your thighs, caressing the cotton fabric against it. "By the way, when did you buy this nightdress?"

"Oh, it's a gift from Luke and Kieran. It's breastfeeding friendly," your hands slowly trail down along the veins and scars on his arms, stopping on his hands resting on your thigh. "Do you like it?"

"It's too modest," he sighed. "I wonder if I'm underpaying those two for them to buy you this."

"I mean, it's the thought that counts?"

Sylus hums, sending shivers down your spine as he rests his cheek against your neck. "We should go shopping for your outfits sometimes. They're getting a bit old."

"Shopping feels more like a monthly routine with you," you half complained. It almost feels like a task, due to the fact that he wouldn't let you choose already made clothing unless you begged. In fact, he would order custom made clothes specifically for you every month to the point that every high end brand fashion designer knows your measurement by heart.

"I don't want my wife to look poor," he raises his hand to brush a few tangled strands of hair.

A distant cry breaks your moment of tranquility. In a swift movement, Sylus carries you in his arms and begins walking towards the bedroom. Pressing your head against his chest, you can feel the rapid thrums of his heartbeat - you always find it unusual, but never bothered to ask.

Opening the bedroom door, you're greeted with a loud cry. Sylus walks over towards the bed, where Theia has been sleeping for the past three days, and gently lowers you beside the baby. Her usual pale face flushes a pale red as she turns her head side to side.

"I see that someone has stolen my spot while I was gone," Sylus feigns an irritated expression as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You chuckle, "It was getting lonely without you," laying on the bed sideways, you open the zipper on the breast padding and lowers down to breastfeed her.

Sylus sits beside you, combing the strands of hair that falls down your face and ties it to a loose ponytail. A comfortable silence drapes over the room for the moment. Your arm is starting to feel stiff, so you gently pull Theia into your arms and cradle her to sleep.

"Do you want to hold her?" you whisper, facing Sylus after Theia has fallen asleep.

An indescribable expression crosses Sylus's face. "Sure," he reluctantly responds, extending both his arms to reach out for the small girl. Ever so slowly, he lifts her in his arms, bringing her closer to his chest. "She's very small."

"Have you never seen a baby?" you piqued out of curiosity.

"Never," his eyes are glued to Theia, but it's hard to tell what kind of emotions it reflects at the moment. "And the first time I've seen a baby, it's my own daughter."

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you stare at the two in front of you. Despite his brash nature, Sylus is very careful with handling things he doesn't know much of. But, he has to get used to it. You wouldn't want Theia to grow up not knowing the warmth of her own father. The thought makes your heart leap, out of fear and joy all at the same time for the future to come.

If only moments like this can last longer, if possible, for a lifetime. No fighting, no wanderer, no threats and whatnots. Just the three of you in the solace of your room.

But even as the abundance of eucalyptus buds blossom into a mesmerizing anemone-like flower, a weak branch is due to fall from the bunch - the weight of breathing new life to the flowers is heavier than what the branch can handle.