The Mysterious Prince

41. Living in London

41.

𝕬𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝕯𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖎

This is the only best bakery I know of. Their cakes are amazing, and it's a pity my baby can't even eat it despite him turning three months today. I'm sitting down here waiting for my cake, which is still being packaged. It's been a long journey, but we've finally reached this milestone. The baby in honor is relaxing in his stroller, eating his fingers while making baby sounds. He's so adorable. I don't wanna lie. He's so peaceful and barely cries. He just plays all day. He turned out to look like me and boy, am I not beaming? I'm the happiest mom on earth.

"Hi. That's an adorable baby." A man says before sitting down on the vacant chair on my table.

"Can I help you?" I place my phone on the table.

"You're beautiful." I stare at him like he just said,'you look crazy'.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm saying I won't mind being a step dad to this little man." Men have guts. I fold my arms and prepare to give him a cheeky answer.

"Who says Junior needs a step dad? He has a present father who is waiting for us at home. Even if you were a possible candidate for being his father, you would fail. My baby is richer than you'll ever be in your lifetime." I stand up and push the stroller to the counter to pick up my cake. The baker assistant offers to take it to my car with me, and I appreciate her for it.

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"Happy three months, Junior!" Everyone is singing for him, and he's just grinning as always showing off his little gums. His hair is growing, and I can't wait to make little dreadlocks on him when he turns six months. My mom says his head is still soft to be pressed on. I've decided to resign from my job and take care of my baby. Every moment in his life is so precious that I don't want to miss out.

"Yay! Now eat the cake." Milly says and places the cake on Junior's little chair. He doesn't know how to sit properly, but this chair always helps him as it protects him from falling.

Junior starts playing with the cake without eating it, and he becomes a mess. Milly takes out her phone and snaps a picture of him while I give the cake to Qwawe and lick his small hands while we walk upstairs to take a bath. I leave Qwawe, Christian, and Milly downstairs. There are only ones here. That's the perks of living in London. We moved here two months ago.

Qwawe walks into the nursery and takes the baby as I prepare his bath. I love bathing him. I don't wanna lie, I love everything about my baby. I didn't think I'll get so attached to him, but try creating a mini person and see how you fall in love with him every day.

"My parents want him to visit them." Qwawe says. I turn around to see him already taking off his diaper.

"That's fine, but can we do it after I come back from South Africa? I promised Simlindile that I'll be there for her graduation ceremony."

"When are you leaving?" He gives me the baby, and I put him in the bathtub.

"Next week Monday. The ceremony is on Wednesday, and then on Friday, I come back." I start bathing the baby while he takes out his clothes. This one buys Junior new clothes every week. Apparently, he doesn't want him to repeat an outfit except for shoes, which are unnecessary, though, because he can't walk. The storeroom is full of baby's clothes and he's only three months old. I repeat his outfits, though, because I'm not Qwawe.

"What will I be doing in your absence?"

"You'll be doing your work, Daddy."

"Can I tag along?" No, he can't.

"Stop exaggerating." I give him the baby, and he wraps him up in a towel and holds him while I throw away the dirty water and put back the soap and shampoo.

"It's easy for you to say because you're attached to him. You breastfeed him, care for him. You basically do everything with Azibo more than me."

"Since when were we in a competition?" I chuckle. He's so childish.

"Then leave him behind. I'll give him a formula."

"We've never tried it on him before. What if he gets sick in my absence?" He spread the aqueous cream on him then puts on his clothes after.

"Can I at least spend this weekend with him while you do something for yourself?"

"I'm a mom now. My priorities have changed. You're still going to get a lot of chances with him when's he's no longer breastfeeding." How can I leave my three months old baby with his dad?

We walk downstairs with Qwawe carrying the baby. Christian takes him away while he plays with him. He's going to sleep late because when these two are here, they wake him up. I'm always scolding them like little children. You'll swear Christian doesn't have a three year old daughter. I've only seen her on a video call when her and her mother wanted to meet Azibo. They live in Havana, which is in Cuba.

I come from the family of internationals and married into one. We are all connected to South Africa anyhow. I'm in London, Asante went back to America with her daughter and husband while Angie is back in South Africa with her French babies. Qhawe's mother comes from South Africa, but he's in London while his brother stays in Cuba, and I have a cousin in Korea whom I haven't been in contact with in a while. We really need a family reunion someday because we are all over the world.

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"Congratulations!" We both hug each other in excitement. My bestie is a whole graduate.

"Oh my goodness, Azibo is so adorable." Jay, who's holding him, says. It's hard not to fall in love with those big doe eyes.

"Let's go and celebrate." Simlindile says, rubbing her baby bump. She wasn't lying when she said Azibo gave her a baby fever because here she is, pregnant.

"Celebrate what, preggie? Look at how big your nose is." Simthandile teases her, and she starts crying. Haibo? Her pregnancy is worse. We don't even know the father.

"Why are you crying?" I ask her.

"She says my nose is big." She sobs.

"I heard it's only worse when you don't know the father. A whole WITS student pregnant? You're brave." Jay adds.

"I know the father, I just don't wanna tell you." She wipes her tears. We all walk to Jay's car. I take Azibo from him and sit at the back with the preggie lady as we drive away to celebrate Simthandile's day.

NB: the next chapter is the last