The Rebel & The Rogue

{36} Mila

IN LIGHT OF SIX (maybe even 7) -- make that 8 xo MONTHS WITHOUT AN UPDATE, HERE YOU ARE.

As 2018 springs into action, it dawned on me, that I haven't updated since August of 2017!Thanks so much my rays of sunshine for not just 10k OR 11k BUT 12K too! I've never had such a big case of writers block before. But who else from the Southern Hemisphere has their exams now!? Ugh. (I wrote this part back in November...)

ABOVE: birthday triplets
P.s I decided that Landon will be Beau Mirchoff (any Awkward fans??)

PART ONE

"Happy birthday!"

My other half exclaims, slumping tiredly but with excitement. He busts into the kitchen, where the boys sit and watch him quietly in their high chairs. Shirtless, pantless but not quite sockless, he walks over to me in his underwear, wrapping his big arms around me.

He sniffs, taking a good whiff of the frying pan in front of me. "You're making yourself your own birthday breakfast?"

"I'm going to give it to my brothers." I smile, as he sighs behind me.

"What if I want some too?" The fatty asks.

"It's their birthday too, you know."

Defeated, hungry and turned down, he drags himself over to the boys in their high chairs. They giggle jiberish as he pulls faces at them.

I look down at my omelette as my spatula slides under it. I just wanted to cook something one last time.

"Do you reckon he looks like me?" Ares asks. I turn around to see his big arm wrapped around Chase, their heads both a little tilted. Chase's little chocolate curls fall on his forehead as his greenish-blue eyes look at his father. His pink flushed cheeks light up when he giggles, just like Ares.

I laugh. "God, yes."

"Knew it." Ares ruffles up Chase's hair. "You've got the good genes, little man."

Coby, obviously offended, makes a loud babbling noise.

"It's okay, Coby baby. You look like your uncle Dexter." I tell him, well knowing that my children only have my eyes and nothing else. But still, Ares' blue clashes with my green, giving them ocean coloured eyes.

"He kinda does." Ares nods, kissing him on the forehead.

As I plate up and seal my food, Ares feeds the boys their favourite - mashed banana. I let him have a shower and get ready while I spend time with our sons. Then, when the time comes to change out of my pajama shorts, I stare emptily at my wardrobe.

What am I supposed to wear on a day like this?

My birthday, my death day.

I flick through the endless coats, dresses and playsuits. What will Ares do with my clothes? What will my family do with them? Will they keep them, treasure the memory of me, and try keep my scent laced through? Or will they burn them, too saddened by the thought of my voluntary death -- or as others might say, suicide.

My fingers stop tracing the clothing when I reach an old dress of mine. Green. Not bright, or pale but earthy. Short, very low cut at the front, and long sleeved. Not tight, or loose, but elegant. Something that I'd like to wear today.