Four years
1301 Words
BRAHAM'S POV
FOUR YEARS EARLIER— BARCELONA
The November air in Barcelona carried the salt-sweet scent of the Mediterranean. I stood in the shadows across from the third-floor apartment, hands shoved deep in my pockets.
11:47 PM. The lights were still on.
Through the sheer curtains, I could see her moving…Millie-Rose, around 5-6 months pregnant, one hand pressed to her lower back. Even from this distance, I could see the exhaustion in her posture.
Cross the street, my wolf Vorn snarled. Go to her. She's our mate. She's carrying our pup.
"We can't," I whispered into the darkness.
Because three months ago in Mexico, she'd left me a note: Stop looking for me. I'll return when I'm ready. — Millie
So I'd stopped hunting. Stopped tracking. But I couldn't stop this…weekly check-ins from a distance, making sure she was safe.
The bedroom light flickered on. I watched her shadow move across the curtains, preparing for bed.
"Sleep well," I murmured. "Both of you."
My phone buzzed. Diego Martinez, my local investigator.
Weekly report sent. She's doing well. No complications.
I pulled up the email. Rosa-Mila Oslo. Spanish lessons three times a week. Freelance translation work. No contact with her old life.
She'd vanished completely.
Except I knew exactly where she was.
And it was killing me not to go to her.
THREE YEARS EARLIER— NEW YORK
February 2nd.
My phone rang at 12:17 in the morning.
Diego's name. Middle of the night.
My heart stopped.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, Alpha." I heard the smile in his voice. "She had the baby. A boy."
The world tilted.
"When?" My hand gripped the phone so hard the case cracked.
"6:42 AM Barcelona time. Seven pounds, four ounces. Healthy. Strong. Mother and baby both doing well."
My throat closed up. I have a son.
"What's his name?"
"Lionel. Lionel Oslo. No father listed."
"Send me everything."
My phone buzzed twenty minutes later. An email from Diego.
The photo loaded slowly, and when it appeared, something inside my chest cracked open.
Millie, exhausted but radiant, holding a tiny bundle wrapped in blue. Wrinkled red face. Dark hair sticking up at odd angles. One small fist curled against Millie's chest.
My son.
I zoomed in, memorizing every detail. Then I noticed Millie's finger curled around his tiny fist, her face showing pure, absolute love.
And I wasn't there to see it.
I sank onto the bed, still staring at the photo. I'd missed the birth. The first cry. The first time she held him. All of it.
We have to go, Vorn snarled. Hold our pup. Protect our mate.
"We can't. She asked us to stay away."
"And I'm going to respect that," I said aloud, my voice breaking. "Even if it kills me."
I spent the next three hours staring at that photo. At 7 AM, Diego sent more. I saved every single one.
At 9 AM, I called him back. "Tell me everything."
Labor was twelve hours. Millie refused an epidural…stubborn even in childbirth. A friend from her Spanish class had been with her. Lionel scored nine on his Apgar test. Already nursing well.
"Keep watching," I said. "Daily reports now. Not weekly."
After I hung up, I pulled out the photo again.
I'd thought watching Millie from afar was torture.
But knowing I had a child I'd never held?
This was agony.
TWO YEARS EARLIER
"Alpha, there's a situation. Lionel has a fever. High fever. Millie took him to the emergency clinic."
I was out of bed before Diego finished. "How high?"
"39.5 Celsius…"
"That's too high for an eighteen-month-old." I was already pulling on clothes. "I'm booking a flight."
"Alpha, wait. The doctor just came out. It's normal baby sickness. Nothing serious. They're prescribing antibiotics and the fever's already coming down."
I froze, trembling. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure. Lionel's going to be fine."
After I hung up, I sat in the darkness, heart still racing.
We should be there, Vorn whined. Our mate is scared. Our pup is sick.
"I know."
Updates came throughout the night.
3:15 AM: Fever down to 38.9.
6:00 AM: Doctor cleared them to go home.
8:00 AM: A photo. Millie on her couch, Lionel in her lap, both asleep. Her hand protective on his back.
This was what I'd chosen. To protect her autonomy, I'd given up the right to be there when they needed me.
Was it worth it? Vorn asked.
I didn't have an answer.
SEVENTEEN MONTHS EARLIER— BARCELONA
The Barcelona office meeting was routine. But I'd volunteered to lead it anyway.
Because Barcelona was where they were.
My phone buzzed during the meeting. Diego: She's at Mercat de Sant Josep. Lionel is with her.
I stood abruptly. "Excuse me. Urgent call."
I was out the door before anyone could respond.
The market was fifteen minutes away. I made it in eight.
And then I saw them.
Millie at a fruit stand, Lionel on her hip…already two years old with dark curls and golden-hazel eyes.
My son.
She spoke to the vendor in halting Spanish. Lionel reached for oranges. "Naranja, Mama!"
"Sí, mi amor. Muy bien." She kissed his head.
They were speaking Spanish together.
Pride and grief hit simultaneously. I should be there, teaching him words, being part of this.
Instead, I was thirty feet away, hidden like a stalker.
Millie shifted Lionel and turned slightly.
Our eyes met.
For one heart-stopping moment, her expression shifted…confusion, recognition starting to dawn.
Then Lionel grabbed her hair, demanding attention.
When she looked back, I'd already melted into the crowd.
We saw them, Vorn said quietly. We saw our family.
From thirty feet away. For less than five minutes.
It would have to be enough. But how could it be enough?
PRESENT DAY— THE STUDY
I stood in my study, those photos spread across my desk. Every single day of those four years had been torture.
"Braham?"
Millie appeared in the doorway.
"Just thinking," I said. "About how proud I am of you. You survived. You Thrived."
"We survived," she corrected. "And now we get to thrive together."
"You were in Barcelona once," she said suddenly. "Two years ago. At the market. I saw someone who looked like you."
I couldn't lie. "Yes."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because seeing you that happy, building a life..." I cupped her face. "I couldn't disrupt that. Even though every instinct screamed at me to cross that market and never let you go."
"I looked for you for days after." She laughed softly. "Part of me hoped I'd see you again. But another part was terrified."
"I'm sorry. For watching from afar. For not being strong enough to stay away completely."
"Don't be sorry." She took my hand. "You gave me time. Space. The chance to figure out who I am without anyone controlling me. Even when it killed you. It’s a gift I’d never receive in my life"
"It did. Every day."
"That's when I started falling in love with you," she whispered. "In those quiet moments when I was alone but felt... protected. Like someone was watching over us."
"You felt that?"
"I felt something. Now I know it was you. Always you."
She settled into my lap. "I'd wait four more years if I had to," I said. "Forever."
"You don't have to wait anymore. We're here. We're yours."
"Ew, you guys are being mushy again."
Leo stood in the doorway, face scrunched in exaggerated disgust.
"Come here, you." I pulled him up between us. "You're stuck with the mushy now. For the rest of your life."
"Nooo," he whined, grinning.
Millie kissed his head, then kissed me.
For the first time in four years, I wasn't watching from afar.
I was living with them.
And I was never taking that for granted ever.
- Writer
