1947, Paris
I held on to my son tightly as he cuddled into my chest. I could feel the wind hitting my skin as I stared at the door waiting for the man to walk in. Excitement shot through my body when I heard the door opening as he confidently strutted in.
"Heinrich here's papa". I told my toddler who raised his head, his blue eyes locking to his father's.
"My son". Hans said as he rushed to us capturing us in a hug and placed a kiss on my lips. He held out his arms for Heinrich.
"Go to papa". I encouraged our son who shook his head snuggling closer to me.
"Naw". He cried gripping me tighter, I could see the look of hurt in Hans' eyes.
"He doesn't take well to strangers". I said before quickly releasing my mistake.
"I mean you are his father but..". I stuttered.
"I know". He said cu
