Stirring slightly, he squinted as the glare of the morning sun filtered its way through the curtains and creeping up the bed and onto the visages of those who slept there. Shutting his eyes, he buried his face into the pillow, but now that he was awake, it was quite impossible to go back to sleep. Opening one bleary eye, he turned from his lying position to lie on his side. A hand reached out to touch the dark mass of soft, bed-tousled hair of the woman lying next to him, breathing softly, with her mouth parted slightly as she slept on. He touched her cheek lightly and smiled as she stirred, but not waking up, only snuggling closer to him; close enough to feel her breathing into his skin tenderly. Crawling up, he kissed her forehead before turning his head to the other side, to his surprise he saw the bedroom door slightly ajar and a small boy of around four was edging into the room as quietly as he can. As the child drew up to the bed, both father and son stared at each other. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked at the small boy, blinking at him with those dark eyes under the messy dark hair that he had passed on to the child.

It was the child who first broke the silence, much to his father’s surprise. “I was scared.” he said quietly, looking at his feet uneasily.

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes still on the small boy. “You had a bad dream?”

The boy nodded.

His father looked at him, “Well, it’s alright now, it’s gone.”

He looked at his father, doubt still obvious in his face. His confusion seemed to amuse his father. Again, he fearlessly spoke up. “I’m still scared. Where’s mummy?” he demanded; or tried to- it had sounded timid instead.

He broke into a smile, “Come here.” He said, gesturing for the child to come closer. The boy crawled up the bed, with his father helping him. He turned his head to look at his wife briefly before running a hand through his son’s hair. “Your mother’s still sleeping, dreaming. Perhaps of nice things, she likes those.”

Big brown eyes stared at him, “Nice things?”

“Yes. Knowing your mother, they’re probably flowers. To her, they never seem to die… I can never understand why…”

“Flowers?”

“She likes them. A lot, too…” he replied, slightly amused at the confused expression on the boy’s face.

“Mummy likes flowers?”

“Oh she does...”

He paused and looked at his father, head tilted slightly. “What other nice things?”

“I don’t know…”

The boy looked over at his mother before turning his gaze back to his father’s face. “Does she like me?”

“Of course, she does.”

“Oh…” the boy paused, pursing his tiny lips together. His father looked at him in surprise, at how much the child resembled his mother in cases like these. He blinked as the boy looked at him again. “Would that make me a nice thing too?”

For the first time, he laughed. “Of course you are, especially if you’re a good boy.”

She wasn’t asleep anymore; in fact, she had been listening to everything they had been saying- only that she was lying on her side, turned the other way so none of the two knows she was awake. She smiled into the pillow and listened some more as her husband started to speak.

“Your mother loves you,”

“What about you?” the child’s voice asked.

“What?”

“Do you like me too?”

He was astounded and was unable to speak, purely out of astonishment. “Of course I do. Your mother and I both love you. You’re our heir, after all.”

“You never tell me that.” The boy’s smile faltered. His father paused but to his surprise, the boy spoke up again, “Do you like mummy, then?”

His amazement with the boy never ceased. “I… learned to love your mother, of course.” Though I never thought that that was possible at first, he added mentally. I guess I was dead wrong…

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why?” the boy repeated. She felt like laughing out loud because she could feel her husband’s struggle in answering their child’s questions.

“Erm…”

“I like mummy.” The boy cut in, surprising both his parents at how firm he sounded. “She’s nice. She smells nice too- like flowers.”

“Yes, I know…”

“Is that why you like mummy too?”

“Not only that, really… You’re too young to understand…”

“I’m four. I’m not young.” The boy shook his head stubbornly, “Daddy…”

“Hm?”

“Mummy tells me…”

“Yeah?”

“… that she loves you too.”

This is priceless, she thought, now highly amused- her son was speaking on her behalf. Things she can never tell her husband without her worrying whether he was paying attention or not.

“She told you that?” he said, smiling, but raising an eyebrow. Now he was starting to wonder who was the adult… his son seems to know more things that he took him for. Then again, he never really knew his own family much. He couldn’t help but feel a sharp tug of guilt.

He nodded and looked up to his father’s face. “But she said she wasn’t supposed to, but she doesn’t care- she said she loves you.”

“Really…” he raised his eyebrows at his son, purely out of how impressed he is.

“I don’t understand.”

“What?”

“Why mummy said that.”

“I think I do…”

The boy tilted his head, “Why?”

“Your uncles never liked me much…” he smiled humorlessly.

“Why? They’re nice. They say they like me too…”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Why don’t they like you?” he asked curiously.

“Erm… I don’t know…” he replied uneasily. Yeah… right, I don’t know… he scoffed mentally. Because I wasn’t exactly nice to them, really.

“I like you, daddy.” He nodded.

“Do you now…?”

“Mmm. You’re nice to me and to mummy. But…”

“But…?”

The boy looked down and flushed lightly, “But you should spend more time with us. Mummy cries sometimes too. I saw her. I asked her why, and she said that you’re always working and your work is dangerous too. She said she’s worried.” He explained, now looking up to his father’s face.

“Oh…” he tore his eyes off his son and looked at his wife.

“But I tried to make her feel better.”

“Really?” he smiled, “You’re a very good boy then.”

“She stopped crying and smiled, she said I remind her of you.”

He said nothing but merely looked at his son and his honestly before saying his wife’s name softly.

“Daddy…”

“Yes?”

“Can I be like you one day?”

“Good Lord… I just hope not.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think your mother would like it… and neither will I, really…”

“But mummy and I like you…”

“Yeah, but that’s different from wanting to be like me. Your mother and I want you to be somebody great, and hopefully, you won’t live the way we had.” He said firmly as he got out of bed and donned on a robe and took his son into his arms. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat,” he told the boy, kissing his forehead briefly before looking at his wife who looked back at him. She smiled tenderly and blew him a kiss. He returned the smile and left the room, with the boy prodding his robes.

[ end ]