Chapter 57 - Lachy

Chapter 57 - Lachy
Five years later

The office was quiet in the early morning, the kind of silence that held promise. Lachy stood by the window, coffee in hand, watching the city stir to life. The skyline was familiar, but today it felt different—like the beginning of something new.

Tristan had officially stepped down, handing over the reins of the company with a quiet confidence that only brothers could share. “It’s yours now,” he had said, clapping Lachy on the shoulder. “Make it better than I ever could.”

Lachy had always been the one who never took anything seriously, but after everything that had happened with Senna and Alba and their struggles, I got why Tristan took a back seat. But after Alba and Tristan finally got married, Tristan wanted to spend every second with them, and who could blame them? He used to come in a few times a week, but after Alba suffered a miscarriage, Tristan’s appearances started to become less and less frequent, to the point that he just didn’t come. So, while I knew that he was going to do this, hand the reins to me, it still shocked me that he went through with it.  Under Lachy’s leadership, the company pivoted toward sustainable innovation, focusing on clean energy, ethical AI, and community-driven technology. Profits soared, but more importantly, so did purpose.

Yet, despite the success, Lachy felt a quiet ache. His life was full of meetings, milestones, and accolades, but empty of the kind of connection he saw in Tristan and Alba, in Dana’s quiet glances toward Elias, and in Senna’s fierce devotion to justice.

He didn’t know he was searching until he met Mei. His Alba was something to behold.

It was a charity gala hosted by one of the company’s partners—a fundraiser for paediatric health initiatives. Lachy had attended out of obligation, dressed in a tailored suit, his mind already on the next quarter’s projections. The ballroom was elegant, filled with laughter and clinking glasses, but he felt like a ghost drifting through it.

Then he saw her.

Mei stood near the silent auction table, her hair pulled into a loose bun, her dress striking but straightforward. She was laughing with a group of nurses, her eyes bright and unguarded. Lachy didn’t know what drew him in—maybe it was the way she listened, or the way she touched people’s arms when she spoke, grounding them.

A mutual acquaintance introduced them. Mei was a paediatric surgeon, recently returned from a humanitarian mission in Southeast Asia. She spoke with passion, her words painting vivid pictures of resilience and hope.

“You must be Lachlan,” she said, extending her hand. “The quiet genius behind the green tech revolution.”

Ichuckled. “I’m not sure about genius. Mostly spreadsheets and stubborn optimism.”

They talked for hours, drifting from the ballroom to the garden, where fairy lights hung like stars. Mei told him about her childhood, her decision to become a doctor after losing her younger brother to a rare illness. Lachy listened, captivated not just by her story, but by the way she told it—with grace, humour, and unflinching honesty.

At the end of the night, she gave him her number. “Call me,” she said. “Not for business. … call.” I would be lying if I didn’t think of calling her on the way home from the event. But I held out until the next morning, and when she answered, and I asked her if she wanted breakfast, she agreed, and from there it was, as they say, history.

Mei’s schedules were unpredictable, her work emotionally demanding. Lachy respected that. He didn’t try to fix her world; he simply showed up in it. He brought her coffee after night shifts, listened to her vent about hospital politics, and held her when the weight of loss became too much.

Mei, in turn, saw through Lachy’s armour. She understood the pressure he carried, the loneliness behind his success. She didn’t ask him to be more than he was—she just reminded him that he was enough.

They travelled together—weekend escapes to the coast, quiet dinners in hidden corners of the city. Mei introduced him to her favourite books, her love of jazz, and her habit of dancing in the kitchen when she thought no one was watching.

One night, as they lay on the couch, Mei turned to him and said, “Have you ever thought about kids?”

Lachy hesitated. “I used to think I wasn’t built for it. Too much work, too much risk, add to what happened with Senna, I didn’t know if I could handle it if anything went wrong.”

She nodded. “I get that. But it’s also everything.”

The decision to adopt came after a visit to a children’s shelter Mei supported. Lachy had gone with her, expecting to feel out of place. Instead, he found himself drawn to two boys—Javi, age six, and Theo, age four. Brothers. Quiet, watchful, and inseparable.

Javi was protective, always scanning the room before letting Theo explore. Theo was curious, with a laugh that echoed through the halls. They had been in the system for two years, shuffled between homes, never quite fitting.

Lachy watched them play, something stirring in him. Later, in the car, he turned to Mei. “I think we could be their home.”

Mei’s eyes filled with tears. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The adoption process was lengthy, involving extensive paperwork, multiple interviews, and moments of uncertainty. But through it all, Lachy and Mei stood together. They built a room with bunk beds and glow-in-the-dark stars, stocked the kitchen with snacks and juice boxes, and learned to navigate tantrums, bedtime routines, and the delicate art of sibling rivalry.

Javi took longer to trust. He tested boundaries, kept his distance. Lachy didn’t push—he showed up, day after day, with patience and love. One night, after a particularly rough day, Javi crawled into Lachy’s lap and whispered, “Are you staying?”

Lachy held him close. “Always.”

Fatherhood changed Lachy in ways he hadn’t expected. He became softer, more present. He learned to leave work at the door, to prioritize soccer games over board meetings, and to find joy in the chaos of family life.

Theo adored Mei, often following her around with a toy stethoscope, declaring he would be a “kid doctor” like her. Javi, slowly but surely, began to open up—drawing pictures of their family, asking questions about Lachy’s childhood, and calling him “Dad” without hesitation.

The company continued to thrive, but Lachy’s heart belonged to pancake Sundays, bedtime stories, and the quiet moments when he watched his sons sleep, their faces peaceful and safe.

One evening, after the boys were tucked in, Lachy and Mei sat on the porch, sipping tea. The stars were bright, the air filled with the scent of jasmine.

“You’ve changed,” Mei said softly.

Lachy smiled. “I think I found the part of me I didn’t know was missing. My unexpected family”

She reached for his hand. “You’re a good man, Lachlan. A good father.”

He looked at her, his heart full. “And you’re the reason I leapt.”