Zephaniah // z.m

Sixteen

Zayn

"You must be so tired, love." Hannah whispered softly as she lifted the sleeping Zephaniah out of the car.

His head rested on her shoulder, his body completely limp as his legs dangled back and forth as she walked. She softly rubbed his back as she kept whispering sweet nothings in his ear and I couldn't help but stare at them.

The way she was holding him, the way she was talking to him. She acted like she cared about him, and it was something I couldn't quite get used to. It made me feel confused, because when did somebody really care about my child?

It had only been myself and some of my family members so far. The caregivers cared about the fact that they had a job and earned money, they never truly cared about Zephaniah as a person, you could just see that the way they treated him.

But Hannah, it was all so different. I could tell and I could just see that she was acting out of love and care. And the fact that I had never experienced that before made me express my emotions in the wrong way.

I didn't want to give in to the comment my sister had once made, I didn't want to give in to all these women that told me he needed a mother. I didn't want to give in because I didn't want to seem like a bad father. I had only wanted the best for him, why couldn't they ever see?

I clenched my jaw and unlocked the door, roughly pushing it open. I threw my shoes off, hung up my jacket and carefully laid Zephaniah's new toys on the table. I'd never forgive myself if I broke them because of my mood.

Sitting down on the couch, I watched as Hannah carefully placed Zephaniah beside me, softly taking off his coat and shoes. Zephaniah woke up, but didn't make any effort to talk.

His eyes kept falling close, especially when I started stroking his black hair. Until his eyes opened at the exact same time when Hannah walked into the room.

"Baba, can I s-see picture of dog," He said quietly, his voice thick with sleep.

I pulled him on my lap and hugged him close, slowly moving from side to side. "You're tired, Zeph. How about you sleep and we do it tomorrow?"

Zephaniah rubbed his eyes and yawned softly, slowly sitting up after that. "But you said it."

"Well, then ask her." I told him, causing him to look down immediately. I knew he didn't dare to do so, but if I wouldn't ever push him to do the things he was afraid of, how would he ever learn?

"Okay, fine baba, I will s-sleep." He said sadly as he rested his head against my chest, slowly playing with his fingers.

I sat him up and faced him, "Zephaniah, you don't have to be scared to ask something. What are you afraid of?"

Zephaniah turned his face away and closed his eyes, not responding to my question.

"Zeph," I said.

The young boy looked up at me, his green eyes slightly filled with tears, "I don't know, daddy! I tell you every time. W-weird feeling in my stomach. I don't w-wwanna do it." His bottom lip trembled but he was trying to stop it.

"Those are nerves, buddy." I said softly. "But you don't have to feel nervous when you ask something. You know what I always tell you, yeah? You have to ask to get a..?"

"Yes," Zephaniah mumbled, softly wiping his eyes.

I looked into his eyes and slowly lifted his chin up, so he was looking back into mine. "Asking is a good thing, Zephaniah. And I know you can do it."

Honestly, I wanted to know what was going through his little mind. I knew he was insecure, I knew he was scared people would think negatively of him, especially when he'd ask something. It made me sad, he was only seven after all, but his sensitivity and mild autism caused it.