220. GO ON, DON

220. GO ON, DON
SELINE
I'm too tired to utter a word. Honestly, I don't know how I feel anymore or what to feel.
My body is exhausted. My brain stopped working. But my heart, it's full.
There are so many people around me—people I trust that my body is constantly giving into the resting mode without any worries.
"Celia is a nice name." Dante filled the silence. "What about the boy?"
Kade and I looked at each other, "Sirius." I said. "He is Sirius."
Layla smiled, "Like a star"
Hana's eyes lit up, "Like Sirius Black in Harry Potter?"
Well, I didn't think of it.
“But it would be boring if the baby didn’t turn into a black dog.” Lilly casually said, her entire focus solely on Sirius.
Luna gasped, “Baby dog?”
Then she was smiling as if it was the most wonderful thing she had heard.
I shook my head, my shoulders shaking as I smiled. I leaned towards Kade and slowly fell into a slumber.
“ ‘S okay. Babies are yours. They make Seline happy. So, I give.” That was the last thing I heard.
Yup, Luna sure learned how to pronounce the letter L.

Three days.
It took exactly three days after returning home for me to realise that giving birth had somehow broken my husband.
Not physically. But mentally.
Ten days more to realise that he has turned his overprotective mode on. It has been a month since I gave birth to two beautiful babies. A month for me to finally walk without any pain or discomfort.
Never getting pregnant again. Won’t recommend.
“I can walk,” I told him for what felt like the hundredth time.
“No.”
“I literally stood up.”
“I know.”
“So why are you carrying me?”
“Because you stood up.”
I blinked. His logic made absolutely no sense.
He had been carrying me everywhere.
Bedroom.
Living room.
Dining room.
Garden.
Kitchen.
Once, he carried me from one side of our bedroom to the other. It was four steps.
Four.
“You are impossible.”
“I know.”
He placed me gently on the sofa as though I were made of ancient glass worth several billion dollars.
“Don’t move.”
“I need water.”
“I’ll get it.”
“I can—”
“I’ll get it.” He disappeared before I could argue.
Storm walked over and rested his head on my lap.
“You see what I have to deal with?” I whispered.
Storm sighed.
Even he looked tired.
Kade returned carrying—
A glass of water.
A bottle of water.
Juice.
Milk.
Two pillows.
Three blankets.
A bowl of fruit.
And somehow…
A thermometer.
I stared.
“What exactly do you think I’m going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
He adjusted one pillow.
“That’s precisely why I’m prepared.”
I opened my mouth.
Then, closed it again.
There was no winning. Absolutely none.
It became worse when the twins entered the equation.
Much worse.
“Kade.”
“What?”
“You’ve checked whether they’re breathing seven times.”
“It was six.”
“It was seven.”
“They sneezed.”
“They’re babies.”
“They’re tiny.”
“They’re always tiny.”
“I know.”
“So stop poking them.”
“I’m not poking.”
“You are.”
“I am verifying.”
I looked at Hana.
“Hana.”
She didn’t even look up from her homework. “I stopped trying yesterday. And I can’t believe that your eyes are green.”
Hana is still stuck at the reveal of my eye colour. She is still too young for us to explain to her why both of us have the same eyes.
Maybe, one day.
“I’ll change her diaper,” I told Kade.
“No.”
“I know how.”
“I know.”
“So?”
“I’ll do it.”
“Kade.”
“I’ll do it.”
“You’ve changed six already.”
“I know.”
“It’s my daughter.”
“I know.”
He froze.
Slowly looked at me.
Then at the little girl sleeping peacefully in the crib.
“My daughter.” He whispered it again.
As though the words still surprised him.
Then he picked her up with ridiculous care.
As though she might dissolve into thin air if he held her wrong.
“See?”
He looked at me proudly.
“She likes me.”
“She likes warm people.”
“I am warm.”
“You also produce body heat.”
He narrowed his eyes.
The only person who seemed completely unaffected by Kade’s behaviour was our son.
He slept.
He ate.
He cried.
Then repeated the process.
Our daughter, however…
She had already figured out exactly how to control her father.
One tiny whimper.
That was all it took.
Kade appeared from absolutely nowhere.
Sometimes I genuinely questioned whether he had stopped sleeping altogether.
“Dante.”
I whispered one afternoon.
“When was the last time Kade slept?”
Dante thought for a second.
“Tuesday.”
“Today is Friday.”
“I know.”
I stared.
“You let him?”
“I tried.”
Dante looked offended.
“He threatened to fire me.”
“Again?”
“Again.”
“You didn’t?”
“I like getting paid.”
“This is ridiculous.”
Kade immediately looked up from the baby monitor.
“What is?”
“You installed cameras.”
“Yes.”
“In the nursery.”
“Yes.”
“In our bedroom.”
“Yes.”
“In the hallway.”
“Yes.”
“In the kitchen.”
He frowned.
“What if they crawl there?”
“They’re one month old.”
“They’ll grow.”
“Not overnight.”
“You don’t know that.”
I blinked slowly.
“…”
“…”
“…”
“You’ve officially lost your mind.”
“I’ve become efficient.”
“No.”
“You’ve become insane.”
He actually looked offended.
“I nearly lost you.”
The room fell silent.
Just like that.
All my teasing disappeared.
His voice had become so quiet that it almost didn’t sound like him anymore.
“I couldn’t protect you.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You couldn’t stop the surgery.”
“I couldn’t even go inside.”
He looked away.
“I stood outside those doors…”
His jaw tightened.
“…and for the first time in my life, I couldn’t do anything.”
I slowly reached for his hand. “You know what I remember?”
He looked at me.
“I remember waking up. The first thing I saw was you. You didn’t leave.”
“I never will.”
He lowered his forehead against mine.
“I know.”
“No.”
He closed his eyes.
“I need you to understand.”
His thumb gently stroked the back of my hand.
“I know you can fight.”
“I know you are stronger than almost anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I know you survived Delmere.”
“I know you survived me.”
A tiny smile escaped me.
“But I also know…”
His voice became barely above a whisper.
“…that there was one moment where I genuinely believed I’d have to learn how to breathe without you. I can’t. I won’t. So until I convince myself you’re really here…”
He glanced toward the nursery where two tiny cries suddenly echoed through the house.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I think you’re using the babies as an excuse.”
His eyebrows rose.
“For what?”
“To fuss over me.”
He looked genuinely scandalised.
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
At that exact moment…
One baby cried.
Kade stood.
The second baby cried.
He froze.
His head snapped left.
Then right.
Then left again.
Completely panicked.
I folded my arms.
“Go on, Don.”
He looked at one nursery cot.
Then the other.
Then back at me.
“…Which one first?”
I couldn’t help it.
I burst into laughter.
The feared Don of the Outfit—the man who could command hundreds of soldiers without blinking—looked utterly defeated…
By two babies who hadn’t even learned to hold up their own heads.