CHAPTER 38
3233 Words
As we step out of the study room, I notice my son yawning. A teasing smile tugs at my lips as I glance down at him.
"Is my baby boy getting tired?" I ask playfully, watching his cheeks flush—a trait he undoubtedly inherited from his mother. Teasing him is one of my guilty pleasures; he reacts just like Saphire, blushing at the slightest bit of attention.
Though things between his mom and me are far from perfect, I am beyond grateful that my relationship with my son remains intact. If he resented me too, I don't think I could bear it.
Until he gets a sibling, I have decided that he will always be my baby boy. The first time I called him that, he laughed, insisting he was far too grown for such a name. But I kept using it, playfully challenging him until, with an exasperated sigh, he accepted it. The day he finally said, "Alright, Da, you can call me that," I felt like I'd won an Oscar.
"Not yet, Da. I wish I could spend more time with my handsome Da," he teases back, grinning mischievously.
I arch a brow at him, feigning offense. "Ah, so now you finally see where your handsomeness comes from?" I jest, and he simply nods, a satisfied smile on his lips.
They say children born out of deep love between their parents turn out to be the most beautiful. Perhaps there's some truth to that.
"From my Da," he murmurs as we head towards the main living room. His words spark warmth in my chest. There's no doubt about it—he's inherited more of my features than Saphire's. Firstborns often take after their fathers, or so they say.
The house is too large for my liking. I designed it with my family in mind, but its vastness often makes me feel like I'm chasing after them rather than simply living with them. That’s why I decide to stay in the main living area rather than in my study.
As we enter, my gaze lands on Saphire, who is watching television. Markle spots her at the same time and immediately lights up, calling out for his mom in excitement. Saphire turns to him with a soft smile, but as soon as her gaze shifts to me, her expression hardens.
She's been ignoring me all day. If it weren’t for Markle, she probably wouldn't even acknowledge my existence. Despite that, my love for her hasn't wavered.
Having the love of your life despise you—it’s a cruel kind of suffering. But rather than dwell on it, I move closer and take a seat near her. She immediately shifts away, widening the space between us.
Markle settles between us, sitting near the armrest of the couch. Together, we silently watch the television.
"You know, there's a TV in our room," I blurt out suddenly, only realizing afterward how ridiculous I must sound.
Saphire turns to me briefly before returning her gaze to the screen. "I don’t know how to use it," she says simply.
That’s why she’s here? I exhale a deep breath, my chest unexpectedly light. Fireworks explode in my heart. She spoke to me.
"It works with voice command," I explain, suppressing a grin. "Just say ‘on’ or use the remote."
She doesn't respond, only gives a slight nod. But that's enough. She listened. And that alone makes me smile.
“Is everything here like that, Da?” Markle asks, his bright, curious eyes locked onto me.
I lean in closer and whisper, "Yes, baby. Even the curtains have sensors. You can control them with your voice."
Both Saphire and Markle glance toward the curtains, intrigued.
I demonstrate, "Curtains, open."
A soft beep signals the command has been recognized, and the drapes begin to part, revealing the breathtaking night view beyond the glass walls. The city lights twinkle like distant stars, casting a mesmerizing glow into the room.
Markle gasps in awe.
To close them, I use the motion sensor attached to the lamp, swiping my hand from right to left. The curtains glide shut once more.
Markle's enthusiasm bursts forth in a gleeful, "Wow!"
I chuckle at his amazement, pulling him onto my lap and peppering his cheeks with playful kisses. He shrieks with laughter, squirming but not pushing me away.
I catch Saphire out of the corner of my eye—her lips twitching upward before she quickly looks away. She tries to hide it, but I saw it. A smile.
Encouraged, I adjust Markle on my lap, inching slightly closer to her. An odd sense of nervousness creeps over me. Maybe it's because of what happened earlier. Maybe it's the uncertainty of where we stand now. I'm afraid she'll move further away, but she doesn’t.
And so, I take my chances.
“Thank God for completing my family,” Markle suddenly announces, his voice filled with certainty.
Both Saphire and I freeze. Our son’s innocent declaration hangs in the air, heavier than he realizes. Our eyes meet. We don’t speak, but in that moment, we understand.
At five years old, our son already understands the reality of our situation. He knows he was raised by his mother alone. He knows that though I wasn’t there, I never stopped searching. That I would’ve moved heaven and earth just to find them again.
“What do I do now, Da?” Markle’s voice is soft, thoughtful. “My greatest wish has already come true.”
I blink. His ultimate wish? To have a whole family? My heart swells with an indescribable emotion.
I smile, running a hand over his small chest as he rests against me. "That’s the beauty of wishes, baby. Once one comes true, you can always make another. You have an unlimited wish card, and when the time is right, the universe will grant it."
He grins, eyes twinkling.
"I have another wish," he says. "It’s impossible for now, but I wouldn’t wish for anything else but this last one."
Curious, I tilt my head. "And what is this wish, son?"
He glances between me and his mother before returning his gaze to the television. "Only both of you can give me that wish."
I frown slightly. Love? We’ve already given him that. Then what could it be?
I turn to Saphire, who looks just as puzzled as I feel. She is clearly caught off guard by the weight of his words.
I don’t push him for an answer, but a part of me can’t help but wonder what exactly he’s wishing for. And whether, in time, I’ll be able to grant it.
Minutes pass, and we've already watched three shows since settling on the couch. I glance over at my son, only to find him sound asleep, his small chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm. A quiet chuckle escapes me as I ease back into the plush cushions, letting the moment sink in.
Saphire remains beside me, unable to move much since one of Markle’s legs drapes over her, as if instinctively anchoring her in place.
“I think our beautiful son is already dreaming,” I muse, hoping she’ll respond.
“He usually sleeps early,” she murmurs after a pause. “But he never drifts off with a smile. Not until recently—about a week ago.”
It’s the longest sentence she’s spoken to me all day, and my heart tightens at the thought that, despite everything that happened earlier, she’s still here. Still talking to me.
I chuckle softly. “That’s probably because he’s been having fun with me. I always take him out whenever we’re together, let him order whatever he wants to eat.” I say it lightly, but deep down, I hope she understands—I love my son. More than anything.
Movement catches my eye, and when I turn, I find Saphire looking directly at me, her gaze sharp and searching. “Why did you come back, Pervince?” she asks, her voice steady, unwavering. “Why are you here?”
Her words cut deep, sharp as a blade, but I don’t flinch. Instead, I meet her gaze, letting her see the truth in my eyes.
“Because I never forgot you,” I say simply. “I never stopped loving you, Saphire. Isn’t that enough of a reason? Enough for you to accept that I’m here, with you and our son?”
“There’s no ‘us’ anymore, Pervince.” Her tone is resolute, her face unreadable, but I see the flicker of something else beneath her cold exterior. A hesitation. A crack in her armor.
“That’s what you tell yourself.” I shake my head. “But I never gave up. Not once. Even when you changed your name, even when you tried to disappear, I searched for you. I searched for both of you.”
Guilt flashes across her features, fleeting but unmistakable. I hold onto that, hoping she’ll finally let me in.
“Why now?” she presses, her voice tightening. “Why come back when you’re already married? You have another child, don’t you? Why are you here, disrupting our lives?”
I exhale sharply, my patience thinning. “Don’t discredit the years I spent in pain, trying to find you.” My voice is rough with emotion, my fists clenching at my sides. “Don’t sit there and tell me I’m bothering my own son.”
I inhale, steadying myself before speaking again. “I’m here because I fought to be here. Because I never wanted anything more than to be with my son and the woman I love.” I pause, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “I love you, Saphire. Is that so hard to believe?”
She scoffs bitterly, shaking her head. “More than hard. Impossible.”
The walls between us are unrelenting, and frustration coils inside me, igniting something sharp and reckless. “I did not marry any woman who made my life a living hell for five years!” I snap through clenched teeth, forcing myself to keep my voice low so I don’t wake Markle.
“We don’t need you.” Her words land like a slap, but I only give her a cold smile in return. She wants to push me away? Fine. But I won’t let her push my son away too.
“You’re wrong.” My voice is eerily calm, controlled. I shift slightly, pressing a gentle kiss onto Markle’s forehead before tightening my hold on him. “I might not get another chance with you,” I murmur, lifting my gaze back to hers, “but I won’t let my son slip through my fingers.”
Her face pales, her lips parting in shock. Fear flickers in her eyes, raw and unguarded. “W-what do you mean?” Her voice wavers, and for the first time tonight, I see genuine panic ripple through her composure.
I look away, unwilling to let her guilt sway me. “I will fight for full custody.” The words fall heavily between us, a final line drawn in the sand. “And I’ll use every resource I have to win.”
Her breath stutters, her hands trembling as she reaches up to cover her mouth. “No. No. You—you wouldn’t,” she whispers, her voice breaking.
I steel myself against the pain in her eyes, refusing to let my resolve waver. “If you leave me no other choice…” I let my words trail off, letting the weight of my threat settle between us.
Tears spill down her cheeks, silent but unrelenting. “You’re cruel.”
I close my eyes briefly, forcing back the ache in my chest. “Yes,” I admit, opening them again to meet her gaze. “But only because you leave me no choice. Don’t push me, Saphire.”
A heavy silence settles between us, thick with unspoken emotions. She exhales shakily, and I do the same, both of us caught in the tangle of our past and the mess of our present.
How did it come to this? We were supposed to be talking, just talking. Just us. But every time the ghost of Eurika lingers between us, it drags me into the darkest part of myself. The part that resents. The part that hates. The part that burns for revenge.
A quiet cough from the entrance of the house breaks the tension, and I turn to find Zoren standing there, my phone in hand. He doesn’t speak, just nods at me. My jaw tightens. Who the hell is it this time?
I rise, careful not to jostle Markle. I’m about to set him down when Saphire moves, her arms already outstretched. “Let me,” she murmurs, barely meeting my gaze.
I hesitate, then gently place our son into her waiting arms. She cradles him instinctively, her fingers brushing his hair, her lips pressing a soft kiss to his temple.
I step back, watching her hold him, and something inside me twists painfully. I don’t want to fight her. I don’t want to be the villain in her story.
I just want to love her.
And damn it, I still do.
Saphire doesn’t realize how close I am until I inhale deeply, drinking in her scent—the very fragrance I’ve longed for over the past five years. The scent of my love. She still smells just as intoxicating as I remember.
She snaps her gaze toward me, her eyes searching mine. I meet her stare with quiet intensity, refusing to take advantage of the way her soft, inviting lips glisten under the dim light. I want to kiss her, to claim her, but not when she doesn’t want me to. So instead, I close the distance between us, leaning in until my lips find the warmth of her forehead.
A slow, burning sensation spreads through my body at the contact, igniting every nerve, making me ache with something deeper than desire—something raw, something real. I linger, savoring the moment, wanting her to feel me without words.
When I finally pull away, I let my gaze travel to hers, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Even when you push me away… even when you hurt me, Saphire, my love for you only grows stronger. I cherish you beyond words—beyond this life. Please… believe me, the way our son does. Because if there’s one thing that will never change… it’s this.”
Her lips part slightly, as if she wants to protest, but something in my voice stills her. I see it—the flicker of uncertainty, of hesitation. A part of her believes me. A part of her remembers.
I step back before she can reject me again, turning toward Zoren, who’s standing near the entrance. His expression is tense, his stance rigid.
“Is it her?” I ask, my voice sharp with irritation.
Zoren nods. “It’s urgent, sir.”
Eurika. What the hell does she want now? What kind of game is she playing this time?
I glance back at Saphire, who’s already cradling Markle in her arms. I let out a slow exhale before walking out of the house, not wanting them to hear the fury laced in my voice.
The moment I reach Zoren, I snatch the phone from his grip. “Damn it, Eurika! It’s late at night, for Christ’s sake!” I growl through clenched teeth.
Silence.
My patience thins. “Are you deaf now? Speak!”
A choked sob finally spills from the other end. “P-Perv… it’s Ceena… she… she got into an accident.” Her voice trembles.
My body tenses. “What?” My breath catches in my throat.
“W-while playing… she fell… she’s hurt.” Eurika’s words are broken, her sobs growing heavier.
I inhale sharply, trying to steady myself. “What happened?” My voice is calmer now, though a storm brews inside me.
“The doctor said she needs a blood transfusion… but I’m not a match. You are.”
My chest tightens, my mind spinning. Ceena. My daughter. I might not love her the way I do Markle, but she’s still my child. And no matter what, I can’t ignore this.
“Where is she?” I demand.
“St. Luke’s… Please, Pervince…” she begs, her desperation piercing through the line.
“I’ll be there in two hours.” My voice is clipped. “Who’s with her now?”
“T-Tyler…” she murmurs.
I barely acknowledge her answer, already strategizing my next move. “Put the doctor on the phone. Ask how long she can wait for the transfusion.”
A shuffle follows, then Eurika returns. “They said they can wait… but not for long.”
“Fine. I’m on my way.” I hang up before she can add unnecessary theatrics.
As I march back inside, I shove the phone into Zoren’s hand. My thoughts are chaotic, but my steps remain steady. When I enter the house, I find the living room empty. Saphire and Markle must’ve gone upstairs.
I take the elevator straight to our room, but when I reach for the doorknob, it’s locked.
Saphire.
With a sigh, I turn away, heading straight for Markle’s room. As I push the door open, I find her tucking him in, smoothing the blanket over his tiny frame with quiet care.
Something tugs at my chest.
Without thinking, I stride forward, gently taking her hand in mine. She stiffens but doesn’t pull away as I guide her toward our room.
“Hon, this is your room too,” I tell her, my voice softer this time.
She shakes her head. “No, I’ll stay with my son. I—”
I don’t let her finish. “Don’t hurt me more than you already have,” I murmur. “Just stay here. I have to leave for Australia. It’s urgent. I’ll be back soon. A day, maybe two. Tell Markle not to worry—I’ll call him.”
I don’t wait for her response. Instead, I move toward the walk-in closet, grabbing a bag and tossing in enough clothes for the trip. When I turn back, she’s still standing there, watching me, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Once I’m done, I step closer, pressing a small remote into her palm. “This controls your walk-in closet. The red button opens yours, the blue one is mine, and the green activates the voice command.” My fingers brush against hers as I close her hand around it.
Before she can step back, before she can build another wall between us, I lean in, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek.
She stills.
For a brief moment, she doesn’t push me away.
I steal one last glance at her before turning to leave, catching the faint flush rising to her cheeks.
A small, bittersweet smile tugs at my lips.
Then, without another word, I walk away.
Outside, my car is already waiting. I instruct Zoren to stay behind and handle a few things for me—I don’t trust Paul enough.
Then, without looking back, I slide into the car and speed off toward the airport, the weight of what’s to come pressing heavy on my chest.
- Writer
