𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 - 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚠

Going Home with Harry and Frederick

Deckard's POV

Everything was finally right. I had my sons... and my gorgeous wife.

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Get some sleep, darling. You need it. I'll keep an eye on the boys."

Isa gave me the faintest nod before her eyes fluttered shut. She was out cold in seconds—not that I blamed her. She'd been through hell bringing them into this world.

I stayed by her side for a moment, just watching her breathe, then stood and peeled off my shirt. Skin-to-skin, they said. It was supposed to help. Not exactly my style, but for them? For her? I'd do anything.

Carefully, I picked up both boys—small, warm, perfect—and settled into the chair with them tucked against my chest. Their tiny fingers curled instinctively, and just like that, the room went quiet. Peaceful. I couldn't help but smile.

The nurse walked in and said, "Mr. Shaw, we're discharging Mrs. Shaw from the hospital."

I nodded, careful not to wake Isabella, and thanked her. I gently moved the boys to the crib near their mother. I signed the forms quickly, paid, and came back. The nurse told me we'd be discharged at 2:30. When she left, I carefully woke Isabella, brushing her hair back softly.

I was gentle with every movement—helping her sit up, slip on a soft top, briefs, pants, socks, and shoes. Never rushed her. I brushed her hair, kissed her temple, and whispered, "Almost done, darling. Then we're going home."

Isabella smiled and nodded. I carefully changed Harry and Freddy into their going-home clothes and settled them into their car seats. I glanced at Isabella and said, "Ready to go, love?"

She smiled, tired but happy. "Yes and no. Yes, because I want to be home with just us. No, because I'm scared we'll do something wrong."

I kissed her softly. "We've got each other. You know what my old man was like. I'll never be him. We're scared, yeah, but we're doing this together."

She smiled, kissed me back, and Harry started crying.

Isabella chuckled, "Let me feed him."

I handed Harry to her. When Freddy started fussing, too, I laughed. "They both want Mum."

Isa smirked. "Can't blame them, babe."

After feeding, I changed them again, helped Isa into the wheelchair when the nurse came in, and wheeled her out while carrying our boys. I had everything ready—we were finally going home.

"Love, I'm getting the car. Be back in a sec."

The nurse parked the wheelchair before the door, and the twins were placed on the couch near Isabella. She nodded, and I went to grab the car. We only brought one carryall bag—it had all our things, plus the boys' stuff. I even packed a cushion for Isabella because I knew she'd be sore.

I drove to the entrance and spotted my wife and sons. I felt at peace. I got out, carefully placed the boys in the car first, making sure they were strapped in right. Then I went back in and wheeled out my wife, my strong, stubborn, incredible wife who'd just gone through hell and still managed to smile at me like I was her whole world.

"Easy, love," I murmured, steadying her as she sat in the passenger seat. She leaned into me for a second, and I held on just a little longer. Just to be sure.

The drive home felt heavier than I expected. Not bad—just... different. Everything had changed. I wasn't just a man with a past anymore. I was a husband. A father. And that hit harder than any job ever had.

When we stepped through the front door, Hattie, Mum, and Owen were already waiting. I barely got two feet in before Mum stood up, eyes locked on me.

"Look at you," she said, voice softer than usual. "You're a dad. Wow."

No sarcasm. No biting remark. Just honest pride.

She stood, walked over, and without asking, took the stroller from me like she'd been waiting her whole life for this moment. She bent down and picked up her grandsons, holding them like they were something sacred.

Hattie stood too, that quiet, proud smile on her face. She looked at Isa and gave her a nod.

Mum sat down with both boys in her arms. I helped Isa sit on the couch. She just smiled. I took out my camera and started taking pictures—Mum with the boys, Hattie, then Isa. Owen and Hattie took one of us with a son each in our arms.

I didn't say much. Just stood there, watching the people I love fill the house with warmth I never thought I'd deserve.

The rest of the day was calm. Harry and Freddy slept, woke, got changed, and fed. Mum, Hattie, and Owen were staying with us for a bit, which helped.

I spent the day just being a father—a dream I'd wanted for a while. And now it was real. I helped Isa rest whenever I could.

The house was calm—something I hadn't felt in years. Isa was upstairs resting. Hattie and Mum were in the kitchen, arguing over who made the better roast. Spoiler: it was Mum. The twins were down for a nap, though I knew that silence wouldn't last.

Owen and I stepped outside with a couple of tumblers and half a bottle of whiskey. The sun dipped low over the garden. Baby-proofed, of course. Another space for the boys.

We didn't talk at first. Just passed the bottle like old times.

He finally broke the silence. "Never thought I'd see you like this."

I gave him a look. "Like what?"

"Settled. Happy." He swirled his glass. "With a wife who adores you, two sons who'll probably drive us mad in a few years... You look like you belong somewhere."

I took a slow sip. "Feels strange, yeah. But it's right."

Owen nodded. "You ever think we'd get here?"

I let out a breath. "Not once. Thought I'd die before I had a shot at this. Wasn't sure I'd ever deserve it."

"You're not our father, Deck," Owen said, firm. "Don't start thinking like him. You're better than that. Always were."

I looked down at my glass. The mention of our father still made my skin crawl. But hearing Owen say that... it meant more than I'd admit.

"She makes me want to be better," I said. "Isa. She sees it all—the worst bits—but still believes I'm worth something."

"She's a good one," Owen agreed. "And the way you look at her... never seen you like that. Kinda terrifying."

I chuckled. "Terrifying, yeah."

We clinked glasses. Not a toast. Just a quiet understanding.

"I'll look after her too," Owen added. "Her and the boys. Just in case."

"I know," I said. "But they've already got me."

And for the first time in a long time, I believed it.