𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 | 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 [Collins]

Epilogue

I had woken up to an empty house on that Christmas Eve, and everything was terribly silent. I preferred when the voices of my husband and my son were feeling the room, but they were gone. I had found no one when I had opened my eyes after a long night of sleep that I much needed, as I was always tired so easily. Surprisingly enough, it was the loud silence that had woken me up, because I did not like being alone. I should take advantage of that time to rest and relax, but all I did was waiting for them to come home. I would get ready, read a book, while waiting for my boys to come back from their morning adventure, or I would stand by the window, observing what was happening outside.

The sky was grey and low, the light softened by the thick layer of clouds and the wind was blowing, whistling through the cracks of the window, cold entering the house, making the room a bit chilly. I would have to ask Andrew to start a fire when he was back.

I did not have to wait too long for I rapidly heard giggles coming from outside. I followed the familiar sound to see them running up the path leading to our cottage, Andrew encouraging Tomas to be quick as a mix of rain and snow was falling from the sky.

"Go, go, go! You're going to beat me!" he had turned this into a competition, always knowing what to do to make things entertaining for his son.

They disappeared from my sight when they reached the front of the house, and I heard the heavy door close behind them as they got in, sighing with delight when they felt the warmth of the house.

"Take off your shoes," Andrew warned our son. "And go to your room to change. If your mother sees that I took you out in the rain, she won't be happy!"

I heard the thump of shoes being dropped to the floor and quick footsteps climbing the stairs, followed by heavier, slower ones.

"Tommy, quiet. Don't wake her up," he whispered as he thought I was still sleeping.

I left our bedroom as I listened to them laughing and messing around, and I stopped at the edge of the door to observe them, taking advantage of the fact that they had not noticed me yet. One had stripped from his clothes and was sitting on his bed while the other rummaged through the chest of drawers to find a clean outfit. They formed the perfect pair, and I could not ask for a more loving father for my son than Andrew.

"Arms up," he told Tommy who obliged and let his dad help him pull a dry jumper over his head.

"Why is Mummy sleeping all the time?" he asked his father, his mouth partly covered with the collar of his top.

"Because she's tired. She needs to rest," he answered, now trying to cover Tommy's feet and have him remain stock still, unsuccessfully.

"Is she going to die?"

"What?" Andrew stopped in his track, Tommy's sock only half put on his foot. "No! She's not going to die!" he snorted at the bluntness of our son and resumed his task.

"I don't want her to die."

"Your ma is fine, you don't have to worry about that."

"Can I go see her?" he asked as he looked my way.

"No laddie, she's sleeping, remember?"

"But no, she's there!" he pointed in my direction, causing Andrew to turn to me in surprise.

"Hi boys," I gave them a warm smile.

As soon as his father was done with him, Tomas jumped down his bed and ran to me to wrap his little arms around my legs, melting my heart as usual.

"Pick me up Mummy!" he begged for my affection.

"I can't Tom, I'm sorry," I caressed his hair so he would forgive me, even if it broke my heart to have to deny him that.