260. CHRISTOPHER H. (POV)

260. CHRISTOPHER H. (POV)
I watch Henry’s chest rise and fall, steady and deep, his eyes closed, pacifier in his mouth. He fell asleep before I even reached page five. Still, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t close the book or sneak out of the room. Not because I was afraid of waking him, but because I knew that once Henry’s asleep, the world could end outside and he still wouldn’t stir. Especially after such an eventful afternoon.
What kept me sitting by the bed, watching him sleep so peacefully, was the fact that I had waited for this moment for a very long time. Ten years. Ten years sitting in that dark, empty, cold room, praying for a cry that never came, holding books with stories no one would hear. Just like a shadow nobody knew.
But now, my son is here, sleeping—the same son I once thought I didn’t deserve, but for whom I would do anything in this world just to see him smile, just to hear him call me Daddy.
My eyes soften, and I finally close the book gently, placing it on the nightstand. He’s clutching the stuffed animal I gave him on his first birthday, the same one that’s been his bedtime companion every night since. My heart tightens, but not from pain. Sometimes, it feels like I might burst from a love that’s too big to fit inside my chest.
It’s funny how someone so small and fragile has the power to change grown, broken men with just a bright, loving glance. From his very first cry, there’s no longer a version of me that doesn’t carry a piece of him. He’s in everything—my schedule, my priorities, my choices, even my mistakes… because now, when I mess up, he’s the first one I think about.
Even when I’m exhausted, even when fear creeps in and I have no idea what I’m doing, I keep trying… for Henry, so he keeps looking at me proudly, like I’m his hero.
Me— a hero. Who would've thought?
I lean in softly, adjusting the blanket perhaps for the third time. I brush a lock of brown hair away from his long lashes, just like Charlotte’s, and kiss his forehead.
“Good night, Little Champ,” I whisper, my throat tight, and I force myself to pull away, straighten up, and square my shoulders. Because now more than ever, I need to be strong.
I quietly leave the room, closing the door just enough so only a small crack remains, and I sigh on the other side. As soon as I step into the hallway and head toward our bedroom, the day’s exhaustion finally catches up with me.
But again, everything fades away when I look at her, my wife, lying on our bed, so perfect in that white nightgown, her hair falling in brown waves over her shoulders, provoking me just by her presence.
Charlotte looks up when she notices me, smiling softly as I slowly unbutton my shirt, each button seeming to take more strength than I have.
“He’s asleep?” she asks gently, placing her own book on the nightstand. Hard to tell whether Henry got his love for books from me or her.
“Like an angel,” I smile, finally pulling off my shirt. I feel Charlotte’s eyes on me, and my abs tighten instantly, like I can feel the heat of her gaze. “I was thinking… what do you think about visiting Sebastian next week?”
I sit on the edge of the bed, and she snuggles closer.
“I think it’s a great idea. It’s been a while since we saw Sebastian. And Henry misses him,” Charlotte says in that velvety, serene voice that’s become more common ever since she became a mother. “I know you’re worried about your little brother. And William, too. We could make it a family trip.”
I wrinkle my nose, making a face that clearly shows I don’t miss him, even though I can’t deny I am worried. Even if Sebastian has been managing his condition well, it’s still tough for me. I don’t like seeing him worn out, hiding it behind a smile. It just doesn’t suit his smug face.
“You’re never going to admit you miss him, are you?” she teases, resting her head on my shoulder. Her touch is warm, familiar. The peace she brings is different from the peace I feel when I look at Henry.
With her, it’s grounding.
With him, it’s redemption.
“I just want to make sure he’s fine. He seemed a little off earlier,” I retort, even though my face and whole body soften at the feel of her beside me, her warmth blending with mine.
“Now that you mention it… Elodie seemed a little off, too, when I called her.”
A silence settles between us for a moment.
Then Charlotte suddenly lifts her head, a mischievous spark in her eyes, “You think…”
“Elodie? And Sebastian?” I frown, trying to picture it—and instantly regret it. “No. They can’t stand each other.”
She laughs, and that sound unravels me. There’s something about Charlotte’s laugh that always throws me off… like she has the power to break through any armor with just a tilt of her head and a teasing sparkle in her eye.
“We know better than anyone that the line between love and hate is pretty thin, Christopher.”
“Yeah, but you never called me unbearable with the same conviction Elodie uses when she talks about Sebastian.”
“She does. Yet, she’s in Switzerland with him, supporting his treatment.”
That’s true. It really was a surprise. I never thought they were close enough for that. And even though she said she was just pursuing a postgraduate degree there, it still caught even Sebastian off guard.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s something there.”
Charlotte tilts her head and gives me a triumphant smile, “Are you admitting I’m right?”
“I’m admitting you might be right.”
She laughs again, gentler this time, more mischievous, and gently touches my face, guiding me with that effortless manner only she possesses. Her eyes shine brightly tonight. They’ve been glowing for a while, but tonight... they resemble stars. Emotional. Happy. In love.
“Yeah… I think we really should visit him.” Charlotte rests her chin on my shoulder. “After all, we have news that should be shared in person, don’t we?”
“We do?” I tilt my head slightly, resting my temple against the top of hers.
Charlotte hesitates for a second, and that’s when I feel it. The shift in the air. The way her body molds even closer to mine, like she wants to merge with me.
She doesn’t have to say anything… I already know. But she says it anyway, with the softest, sweetest voice I’ve ever heard from her.
“I’m pregnant again, Christopher.”
My heart races, thudding furiously in my chest. Henry’s words from earlier echo in my mind, and when I pull back just enough to look at her, my arm wrapping tighter around her waist, I can see in her eyes that she’s thinking the same thing.
“Are you sure?” Somehow, I find my voice, but it comes out hoarse and weak, like it doesn’t even belong to me.
“You know how my cycle being a couple of days late isn’t that unusual, so I didn’t worry. But when Henry said his wish had already come true, I realized I was late. So, I took a test.” She pauses, scanning every inch of my face, searching for my reaction. “Two lines, yes. I’m sure.”
I swallow the lump rising in my throat and pull her into me. She rests her head on my chest and takes a deep, shaky breath, holding my waist like she’s anchoring herself.
“Do you think…” Charlotte starts, then stops again, trying to find the right words, but she doesn’t need to. I know exactly what she’s thinking. I know what her heart wants, and what was so painfully hard to let go of once. “Do you think it was just a child’s imagination?”
“No.” I stroke her bare shoulder, gently running my thumb across her soft skin. “I think we’ve all been through things that would make any sane person doubt. It doesn’t sound crazy to me that Henry and Kyra met in Heaven.”
Charlotte’s breath catches, but she doesn’t move. Her nails dig into my waist, but I feel no pain. All I sense are the wet tears soaking my chest.
“You think… she could be ours again?”
I cup her face with both hands, wiping the trail of her tears, looking straight into her bright eyes.
“I’ve heard people once say that children choose their parents, and the family they want to be born into.” I smile softly, remembering those old, almost-forgotten memories. “You were Kyra’s mom. And if she chose you once, love… I’m sure she’d choose you again.”
After all…
Her last wish was to see you again.
Charlotte closes her eyes and lets out a low, nearly silent sob, but it echoes deep inside me.
She collapses against my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around me, as if she’s trying to hold onto everything she couldn’t before. I let her cry, feel, and tremble with the hope that maybe… just maybe… the daughter we lost is finding her way back to us.
My own eyes start to burn, and I rest my chin on the top of her head, gently stroking her hair, soothing us both.
“Hope…” She takes my other hand and places it over her belly, holding it with hers. “She really was my hope once… I couldn’t think of a better name.”
“Me too, love,” I whisper, pulling her even closer, and close my eyes. “Me too.”