murrdihlover

Meanwhile, living in paradise was just that. Paradise. Walking the beaches barefoot, collecting seashells. On the occasion, making sand castles. But lately ...

Lately, you’ve been fatigued. Leaning against the wall with a warm mug in your hand. You watch him intently, hoping that he makes you favorite again. But looking down into the mug, you feel tired again … The caffeine isn’t working.

But you shake it off … Maybe it’s coming ...

Then ... you miss it. That little one a month visitor. Perhaps it’s just delayed … “Check it out,” Shoko says bluntly. But you stutter, almost fumbling the cellphone. You try to explain it off. But she just repeats, “check it out.”

The two of you live about an hour away from the city, but he’ll need more supplies for his little baking experiments. A good excuse.

You come home to see him work away in the kitchen. Bending down on the balls of his feet, watching the oven intently. His brows furrowed. Those pretty hazel eyes intense.

He no longer wears his glasses. So you see them all the time now. A sight in which never gets old.

“Hey honey, I’m back.”

“H-hey” He doubles takes your way. He wants to greet you but … the bread. With a sniff, it’s your favorite, so you understand.

You place the groceries down, and scurry to the bathroom to immediately take the test. It doesn’t take long but every passing second is torture. Then—

It’s a positive. A positive … With two hands, you push back against the sink. A positive … everything is going to change. Once you lock eyes with yourself in the mirror. Nervousness. Excitement. Worry. Happiness. All these emotions … Splashing your face with some cold water, you know to be safe, you have to make a doctor’s appointment.

You open the door which almost hits him. He holds a plate full of your favorite bread with your favorite topping. His smile is so sweet and sincere, like a little showing up his masterpiece. Immediately you reach for one but pull back, remembering what is behind your back. But he saw it. He saw what was in your hand. His eyes darting to yours before widening.

It’s confirmed at the doctor’s. They even print out a picture of the sonogram. At the doctor’s office both of you can’t take your eyes off of it. Even Kento who drives you both home, sneak peaks at it whilst you hold it on the way home.

At home, you frame the picture and place it where Kento, you, and anyone who comes over can see. Every once in a while, you see your husband lurking by the picture, picking it up and studying every minuet detail.

At night you and him lay down in bed, his fingers intertwined with yours. Lately his eyes won’t leave your stomach, almost impatiently—like a child asking if they’re there yet. Impatiently waiting for it to grow.

There is a spark to him lately—and to you of course. But the always bored, mono tone, stick in the mud Nanami walks with an extra pep in his step. You find him smiling for no reason at all. Like now. “What are you thinking about?” You give his hand a tight squeeze.

“What do you think?” He looks at you smiling before raising your entwined hands to look at your matching rings.

“It’s moments like this, that I can’t believe my luck. All that idiocy … led me to this moment, here with you.” You two smile at each other. “It was worth it. Absolutely worth it … But I can’t help but to feel a little …” He starts to say something else but stops himself. You wiggle his arm to say more.

“I’ve been have more and more dreams lately. It’s a feeling I’m not used to. Its started when I met you, when we got married.”

“You have more dreams? Come on, tell me.” He can’t take that playful smile of your’s.

“My dream …” He lays his head on the pillow smiling so wide that even his teeth poke out, “is to one day some home to see you playing with the kids, and have them run to me. And then visa versa.”

“That’s a nice dream …” You stare at him smiling.

As the months grow, so does your belly. You watch on as he assembles the crib. Converts the spare room to a baby’s room. Baby proofing the house. All while making sure you are comfortable. Bringing you iced drinks of your choosing when you heat up. Making sure you’re not too cold at night. Give you massages even when you didn’t ask. Those strong hands, fingers kneading your skin easing away the aches and pains.

You remember how some of your friends used to complain that their husbands didn’t even look at them when they were pregnant. Not yours, if anything, you think he found you more attractive. You catch him looking at you, with a little smirk admiring you.

But it’s not all easy ...

One night was particularly hard. You can’t sleep. Kento leans on his arm, his hand pushing up your shirt, his strong calloused fingers rubbing circles around your belly. “If it’s a girl, maybe she’ll look like you.” But you just side eye him, “your hair, your smile, your eyes … just a mini you.”

“Most first born girls look like… their dad …” Your eyes grow heavier. “I hope she looks … like you.”

“So long as shes healthy, that’s all we can ask for, hm?” He looks at you, finally you’re asleep, but he stays there fearing to wake you up. He doesn’t mind though. Still rubbing your belly. Every once in a while he can feel the babe kick.

The whole events of his life replay in rapid motion. All leading to this one moment. His hand on his wife’s stomach that holds his child. His. He glances up to your sleeping face, silently thanking you—for if it wasn’t for you, none of this would be possible. Oh how he wants to kiss you. Instead, his head collapses into the pillow, falling to sleep.

You wake up, Kento still next to you, his hand still splayed out on your belly. You swear he is still smiling. The morning sun highlighting him ...

A few days later, you’re waddling into the kitchen, hungry again. Kento watches each and everyone of your movements. Ready to help you at a moment’s notice. With a fruity ice pop, you make your way to the back deck with the ocean view. So peaceful … Until your eyes widen.

He sits at the counter reading some newspapers that was sent from Tokyo whilst sipping his gourmet coffee. Not exactly current, but still—beats digital any day. “KEN!” He spits then chokes on the coffee, almost stumbling to the floor as he runs to you. Your face almost disgusted but nervous but excited.

After a change, he, carrying the hospital bag you prearranged excorts you to the car opening the door for you, making sure the seat belt is tight. For the first time in almost two years—you haven’t seen his face so intense.

The baby comes with no problems. Healthy as can be. And it’s a girl. A beautiful baby girl. You name her in your arms, booping her little nose.

When you place her into his arms, he’s nervous … but unnecessarily so, it’s as though she was always meant to be there. They fit so perfectly together. His smile is so pure and genuine. You haven’t seen him smile like this since your wedding day.

Once home, you get to work. Making sure that child is taken care of to the best of your ability. Waking up in the middle of the night to cries. Changing endless diapers. You never complain. And he sees that.

It’s night, you wake up, shooting up from bed to, nothing. Absolutely nothing, it’s unsettling. Throwing off the covers you hurry to the crib. The baby isn’t there. In a panic, you walk quickly through the hallway and in the dark kitchen, in the only illumination of a single light, you see Kento holding your child. He tests the milk on his wrist before gently pushing it to the baby’s mouth.

You lean against the wall in silence watching this hulk of a man. You remember once seeing him fight some goliah curse with Yuji, barely breaking a sweat. His face stoic the whole time. After the curse turned to dust, he just walked away straightening out his suit jacket. But now, that man is this: holding your wee little baby ever so gently.

You watch as the bottle empty, and with all intent and purpose, he places a towel over his shoulder and starts to pat the little back so, so tenderly. You can’t help to smile at the sincere concentration on his face. Finally he turns around, your figure startling him in the dark. “How long were youthere?”

“Long enough to enjoy the view.”

“I got this, go back to sleep.” Like every woman that gave you advice, you take this opportunity to catch up on some rest. You turn back down the hallway to catch up on some sleep. Tomorrow, you’re a stronger woman.

But as everyone also says, babies grow in the blink of an eye.

A couple of months later ~

He sits in his reading seat, his mountain of books replaced by baby books. Wrapped in a snug little blanket, he reads a book to your daughter in a voice trying so desperately to get away from that monotone you love so much. It makes you giggle. He stops to look at you. “Sorry, sorry continue. I was enjoying the read as well.” And you were. You—of course—were not laughing at him. The cuteness of the view is just overwelming.

He continues to read, word by word. The baby eventually grips the side of the plastic book. Whilst still reading, you watch your husband—with those huge long fingers—ever so gently, peel away those fragile little grippers one by one as he turns a page.

~

You sit on the living room floor playing blocks with the babe. Nanami comes home. “Who’s that!? Is that Daddy!? Yeah!? Come on let’s go see Daddy!” You try to pick up the child but instead … with a gummy smile and eyes nearly shut looking directly at him, she wobbles, one step, then two—immediately you look at Nanami’s face. Eyes wide, glossy. The baby falls back onto her butt. No crying, only laughing as she gets right back up.

But Kento runs to scoop up the baby kissing her forehead. He is about to cry. What you are witnessing is the accumulation of person’s greatest wish. And it’s breathtaking.

~

Today, Kento was watching the littler Nanami, allowling you to have some alone time. You walk in on him baking (but of course) and her overseeing him in her high chair. The moment your daughter sees you, her face brightens and her arms stretch for you. “Ma!” she slams her little hands on the tray.

Kento’s head whips to her. You, mascara running down your face. The sight of you grabbing your baby and happy crying sends him off. He looks away scrunching his eyes. For the first time in … ever, he burns the cookies.

~

Ino is visiting this week. You watch over the deck as he runs from your blissful child. She loves her Uncle Ino. Chasing him, burying him in the sand. To see her smile, her little blonde hair sticking straight up in a single ponytail. This week, you have off (well not really but …), Ino is helping out a lot.

For the first time in months, you and Kento are going out on a date. After some much needed time to yourselves, you two arrive home, hand in hand, to see Ino splayed out on the couch, your daughter nuzzled onto his chest. His trademark beanie, still on, albeit framed by cheap plastic earrings and a pink pearled necklace. Apparently they were playing Pretty Pretty Princess.

~

Every once in a while, one of the sorcerers come down to say hello. Ino mostly, but sometimes Mei Mei and her brother Ui Ui. At first she scared your daughter, but she gave her a gift, her first piggy bank.

Nobara once brought in a luggage full of baby clothes. Together they even painted their nails. Whilst Yuji had way too much fun giving piggy back rides and being your daughter’s make up canvas. Lastly, Megumi enjoyed sharing a little meal with her (your baby is a clean eater). He even didn’t mind when she would play with his hair.

Shoko and Utahime even visited, all four ladies (you included) just sunbathed on the beach—with sun screen of course. At one point, your sun glass wearing daughter looks over, to see each of the women with their arms to their side, ankles crossed, she does the same.

She seems to genuinely like everyone … Everyone except … You walk outside to greet him. Instead you see your husband, eyes squinted, mouth pushed into a thin line, arms folded. You look down, to see your daughter, little chubby arms folded, eyes squinted, mouth just like her father’s. Two peas. “Oh my God there’s two of them.” Gojo looks back and forth, his head almost swinging.

~

It’s her first day of preschool. You watch as Kento straightens out her little jacket and makes sure her little backpack isn’t too tight.

Both of you fidget. Two ex-sorcerers who faught—and defeated—countless of curses, nervous to hear about their daughter’s first day. The door opens and the kids come flooding out. Finally you see the little blonde, arms stretched out running to the both of you. You grab her and pick her up, little feet dangling in the air while Kento pulls off the backpack.

She pulls for him and in one fluid motion, he places her on his back not caring that she is grabbing a tiny (but firm) handful of his hair.

That night you watch as as he makes covers her. She had a big adventure today. You make sure her favorite teddy is right next to her.

The two of you slink back ever so stealthy, closing the door.

As you’re about to do something, you feel your arm being tugged and before you know it, you’re tugged to him where he meets you in a passionate kiss. Once he has you where he needs you, he cups your face with both hands. Even trapping you against a wall. Whispering your name, like a prayer to the Goddess that you are, “can we another,” breathlessly, “maybe a son?”