Chapter 201
The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the wide open windows, casting a warm light across the polished surface of the piano in front of me. The familiar hum of the household filled the room–children’s laughter, the occasional soft shuffle of feet, and the ever–present weight of my thoughts, which lingered in the background like a melody I couldn’t quite finish.
The return of Monologue had stirred a storm across the world. It wasn’t just about the music video I had released, albeit unintentionally; it was the three–year silence that had made it all so much more impactful. Fans from every corner of the world buzzed with excitement, comments flooding social media, speculating and debating.
Some even claimed they heard lullabies and the distant cry of babies within the tune–a clue, they believed, that my disappearance might have been due to something far more personal than a
creative hiatus.
5
But none of that mattered at this moment, sitting in my living room, surrounded by the two most important people in my world–my children.
Mummul A small but:
voice tugged at my leg. I glanced down to see Shirlika, her large, innocent eyes looking up at me, her dark curls framing her cherubic face like a halo. “It’s almost Christmas. What will Grandpa Claus give us this year?”
I couldn’t help but smile as I reached down to scoop her up into my arms, settling her comfortably on my lap. “What present do you want from Grandpa Claus, my little one?”
Her answer was immediate, as if she had been thinking about it for weeks. “I want Daddy.”
My smile wavered, and for a moment, I faltered. The name she spoke was a ghost in our home, a name that lived only in the stories I told them and the whispers they must have overheard.
Before I could respond, a more serious voice broke the moment. “Shirlika, get off Mummy. You crush her, you’re too heavy.”
I looked up to see my son, Sherlock. Unlike Shirlika’s soft features, he had inherited a sharper look. His dark eyes, even at his young age, already carried an Intensity far beyond his years. Where Shirlika was carefree, he was cautious.
Where she laughed, he often brooded. He approached the piano with his hands tucked behind his back, as if assessing a battlefield.
Sherlock” I said softly, “your sister is just fine.”
After I Let Go My Alpha, He Knell in Regret
Shirlika stuck out her tongue at him, her mischievous eyes glinting. “You’re just jealous, Sherlock, because I get to sit with Mummy and you don’t!”
His cheeks flushed slightly, but he crossed his arms over his chest. T’m not jealous. I’m just trying to
be careful.”
I chuckled softly, patting the empty space next to me on the piano bench. “Come here, my little man. What would you like for Christmas?”
1:
Before Sherlock could answer, Shirlika, in true younger sibling fashion, chimed in. “He wants Daddy too! He told me last night!”
Sherlock’s eyes widened, his face reddening further as he snapped, “I did not! And if I did, it was Caly so I could teach him a lesson for abandoning us and making Mummy sad.”
Shirlika giggled, “You said you wanted to see him, to see if he looks like you.”
Sherlock crossed his arms and huffed, “Only so I could beat him up!”
Their banter, while playful, carried an undercurrent of the pain we all felt–pain that neither of them. fully understood, but pain nonetheless. I felt the weight of their words tug at my heart. How could I explain the complexity of our lives, of why their father wasn’t here, of why I had shielded them from
so much?
“You can’t beat up your father,” I said, smiling weakly as I ruffled Sherlock’s hair. “Not yet, anyway. Maybe later.”
His face lit up, a small but determined smile creeping onto his lips. “Then I’ll start training now!”
Just as the conversation was about to continue, my phone vibrated on the piano, its screen lighting up with a familiar name–Morris. I held up a hand, signaling for the children to quiet down as I
answered the call,
“Maurice?” I said, my tone curious.
There was a brief silence on the other end before I heard a low chuckle, followed by a soft melody–a melody I recognized instantly. It was one I had composed just days ago, a tune no one else should have heard yet.
“Maurice, how did you…? This song isn’t supposed to be out. I haven’t released it.”
After I Let Go My Alpha. He knelt in Regret
apter
Shirlika stuck out her tongue at him, her mischievous eyes glinting. “You’re just jealous, Sherlock, because I get to sit with Mummy and you don’t!”
His cheeks flushed slightly, but he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not jealous. I’m just trying to
be careful.”
I chuckled softly, patting the empty space next to me on the piano bench. “Come here, my little man. What would you like for Christmas?”
Before Sherlock could answer, Shirlika, in true younger sibling fashion, chimed in. “He wants Daddy too! He told me last night!”
Sherlock’s eyes widened, his face reddening further as he snapped, “I did not! And if I did, it was Saly so I could teach him a lesson for abandoning us and making Mummy sad.”
Shirlika giggled, “You said you wanted to see him, to see if he looks like you.”
Sherlock crossed his arms and huffed, “Only so I could beat him up!”
Their banter, while playful, carried an undercurrent of the pain we all felt–pain that neither of them fully understood, but pain nonetheless. I felt the weight of their words tug at my heart. How could I explain the complexity of our lives, of why their father wasn’t here, of why I had shielded them from so much?
“You can’t beat up your father,” I said, smiling weakly as I ruffled Sherlock’s hair. “Not yet, anyway Maybe later.”
His face lit up, a small but determined smile creeping onto his lips. “Then I’ll start training now!”
Just as the conversation was about to continue, my phone vibrated on the piano, its screen lighting up with a familiar name–Morris. I held up a hand, signaling for the children to quiet down as I answered the call.
“Maurice?” I said, my tone curious.
There was a brief silence on the other end before I heard a low chuckle, followed by a soft melody–a melody I recognized instantly. It was one I had composed just days ago, a tune no one else should have heard yet.
“Maurice, how did you…? This song isn’t supposed to be out. I haven’t released it.”
