Chapter 73 RECOVERY
GALLAHAN’S POV
Days bled into a week, and a single week morphed into three. Gradually, the twins began to show signs of getting better, much to our relief.
The ears slowly but surely shrunk and disappeared by the end of the second week of nesting, and their cute little hands returned by the middle of the third. The fur that had sprouted on their arms eventually diminished until none was left.
But nesting wasn’t as easy as I initially thought it was.
Sure, it meant staying in the nest for ninety-nine percent of the time, cuddling and showering Calisto and Gillian with affection, which were both easy feats to do.
But when the second week rolled in, Willa and I gradually got sick of the humdrum of our days. Our bodies desperately sought movement and nature.
Our skin yearned to bask in the warmth of the morning sun, and our eyes were desperate to get a glimpse of a different view from the one we always see in our window.
The longing and need to roam free outside, to greedily breathe in the crisp fresh air, and to simply move our limbs was driving us mad.
But we forced ourselves to endure.
After all, the reward that awaited us at the end of this long tunnel was worth it.
It also helped that Willa filled our waking moments with stories about Calisto and Gillian—from tales about all their firsts, up until their little squabbles and infuriating misdemeanours that tested Willa’s patience to the limits.
We also killed the slowly ticking time by putting in the work to help me develop a certain degree of proficiency in using mind links.
Willa proved herself to be a patient teacher, which was something she attributed to raising two precious and precocious yet rambunctious children.
But even with a good mentor on my side, my progress was slower than a snail’s pace. Still, our mind link training session was something I continued to look forward to every single day.
The best silver lining to our restrictive situation, though, remained to be the fact that I got to have the chance to be so close to Willa. Heck, I could even get away with giving her lingering touches to her arm and hands here and there without me having to justify it.
We were nesting. Physical touch was normal.
Except, it wasn’t enough. At least, according to my insatiable libido. So I had spent a shameful amount of time in the bathroom during my designated showertime, jerking myself off with the scent of Willa permeating all around me like my own personal aphrodisiac.
I wasn’t sure if Willa had caught on, but even if she did, she seemed inclined to pretend I wasn’t doing anything unholy in her bathroom.
Fuck, nesting was maddening.
Thankfully, the end was within sight by the fourth week. Calisto and Gillian finally regained consciousness, which only lasted for a minute. Maybe even less. It just gave us enough time to make them drink the nourishing potion that had been ignored for weeks.
Then after that, their bouts of consciousness came sporadically, each one lasting longer than the one before.
And today was no different.
But it turned out that it actually was. Because as I was lazily lounging in our nest, with my back slightly reclined upward by a stack of pillows, Gillian’s eyes slowly fluttered open. She then weakly croaked out, “Daddy?”
A pathetic gasp left my mouth, and I immediately but gently pulled her closer to my side, as if doing so could make her feel how elated she had made me. It was, after all, the first word she had ever spoken to me.
“Yes, sweetheart? I’m here. Daddy’s here.”
“Han?” Willa called out softly. Then with a tone that was tinged with concern, she asked, “Did something happen? Are they okay?”
My attention turned to her just as she stepped out from behind the dressing partition, donning a white chemise that stopped just around her knees.
The sight of her was breathtaking, but I couldn’t fully appreciate and revel in her beauty when the fact that Gillian just called me ‘daddy’ greedily took the front seat of my mind.
“Gillian’s awake, Willa. She finally said something. She called me daddy.”
I breathless happy laughter bubbled out of me, as if my entire body couldn't handle the joy the one simple word had caused.
“Oh,” Willa murmured, her gaze soft and heart-wrenchingly fond. She then approached the bed, saying, “The feeling is unlike anything else in the world, right?”
I nodded, returning my attention to Gillian who was blinking slowly and repeatedly as if she was fighting off sleep.
“Mommy’s also here, sweetheart,” I murmured to her before pressing my lips on the crown of her head.
Willa, who had gotten a phial of nourishing potion from the bedside table, carefully joined us in our nest, sitting down near Gillian with her legs folded and tucked beneath her.
“Hey, love,” she greeted softly as the back of her hand lovingly caressed the supple and plump cheek of our daughter. “How are you feeling?”
“Not good. I’m thirsty,” Gillian answered promptly, but her voice still came out raspy from disuse. “I want… water.”
It was like a stake straight to my heart to see and hear her weak and fragile state, and I was bordering on desperate to make her all better. So I eagerly said, “I shall get you water, sweetheart. Hold on.”
I tried to slowly and gingerly slip myself out where I was wedged between Gillian and Calisto, but Calisto wiggled closer to me and slung his small arm on my torso, whining a hoarse, “Don’t go, Daddy,” with his eyes still screwed shut.
My head turned to Willa in a snap, and my expression must’ve been comical because Willa burst out into a fit of endearing giggles.
“I’m going to be so pathetic over them, aren’t I?”
Willa’s giggles dimmed and faded. Then Something in her expression shifted. It was minute and really subtle, but after spending time with her in the last few weeks, committing every little detail of her face to memory and devotedly learning each micro-expression that graced her features, the change wasn’t impossible to miss.
“I’ll get the water then.”
I kept my gaze on her, trying to decipher what the look on her face meant, even as she turned her full attention to Gillian.
“Here,” she said to Gillian. “Drink this first, love. Then Mommy will get you a glass of water.”
“Okay,” Gillian obediently croaked out.
Willa gently helped our daughter sit up, letting Gillian lean most of her weight against her. With the stopper removed, she then brought the phial to Gillian’s lips.
“Just a mouthful would do, love… Good girl.”
Once done, Gillian sluggishly settled back to my side, putting her head on top of my chest and mumbling, “Stay, okay?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” I promised.
And then she was back to dreamland, forgetting about the water she wanted.
For a moment or two, an inexplicable tense silence hung over Willa and I while we watched our children sleep.
But in all honesty, I was itching to broach the topic of Willa’s sudden unease and tension that emanated off of her like thick and heavy suffocating mist.
I internally debated how I could approach the topic without setting her off into defensive mode, which I had seen her automatically rely on multiple times before we started nesting.
It had dawned on me that it was almost instinctive for her to immediately put her iron walls up and shut the drawbridge close at the first sight of unwanted and uncomfortable situations.
But I didn’t have to think too hard. Because Willa willingly shattered the silence, saying, “Gallahan, I think… I think we need to talk about our children’s custody.”