47:  Little thief

"This is your home, sweetheart," Karylle said softly, cradling her grandson in her arms as they stepped through the front door of Richard and Khana's home. Her voice was gentle, filled with the warmth of a grandmother’s love and the wisdom of years spent raising children of her own. The house felt different now—more vibrant, more alive with the promise of a new life.

Khana smiled weakly, still adjusting to the reality of being back home after the exhausting experience of childbirth. Her body was still sore, and though she tried to mask it, the fatigue was evident in her eyes. Richard noticed and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, offering her a reassuring smile.

"Why don't you rest for a bit?" Karylle suggested her tone was kind but firm. "You haven't fully recovered yet, and you need to take care of yourself."

"I'm fine," Khana replied, though the weariness in her voice betrayed her words. She wanted to be strong, to show that she could handle everything, but deep down, she knew she was pushing herself too hard.

Richard looked at her, concern etched on his face. He sighed softly and squeezed her delicate hand again, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. "Please, sweetheart," he said gently. "Just sit down and rest. You need it."

Khana hesitated but finally nodded. "Okay," she murmured. Richard guided her to the bed, helping her settle down on the edge. She sank into the soft mattress, feeling the tension in her body slowly start to ease.

"Let me watch over my grandson while you rest," Karylle offered, placing Kharl gently in his crib. She glanced at her daughter-in-law with a tender smile. "You should sleep for a while, darling. You’ve been through so much."

Khana watched as her mother-in-law carefully laid Kharl down, but just as she did, the baby began to cry, his tiny face scrunching up in distress. The sound was sharp, piercing the air and sending everyone into a mild panic, everyone except Karylle.

"What should we do?" Richard asked, his voice rising with anxiety. "Is he hurt? Is he sleepy? I can't figure it out!"

Karylle remained calm, her experience as a mother kicking in. "He’s probably just hungry," she said calmly. She walked over to the crib and lifted the wailing baby, gently bouncing him in her arms before handing him over to Khana. "Here, let him feed. That’s what he needs right now."

Khana took Kharl into her arms, but her face clouded with uncertainty. "B-but I don’t have enough milk," she stammered, looking down at her son with worry.

Before anyone could respond, a loud, cheerful voice echoed from the hallway. "Where's my little angel?" exclaimed Richard's mother, her face lighting up with joy as she entered the room. She practically bounced with excitement as she approached her grandson, her arms outstretched.

"Mom," Richard interrupted gently, trying to keep the situation under control. "He's about to be breastfed. We should give them some space." He leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek, then did the same to his father, who had followed her into the room.

"Of course, of course," Richard’s mother said, still beaming. "We’ll just be in the dining area if you need us, dear," she added, turning to Khana with a kind smile. "Don’t hesitate to call for anything."

Khana nodded, grateful for the moment of solitude that was about to follow. She watched them leave the room, closing the door behind them and then turned her attention back to Kharl. She positioned him at her breast, watching as he latched on and began to suckle. The sensation was strange, a mix of discomfort and warmth, but also a deep, primal connection.

"Eat a lot, my baby," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. As she looked at Kharl’s tiny face, she couldn’t help but wonder where he got his features from. She scrutinized his little nose, and his eyes, trying to find traces of herself or Richard in his tiny, delicate features.

But then, a flicker of fear passed through her eyes. A faint resemblance—so subtle it might have been imagined—seemed to echo the features of the priest, a shadow of doubt that made her heart race. Khana shook her head quickly, trying to dispel the unsettling thought. "It’s too early to overthink," she murmured to herself. "He’s not his. He’s ours."

Just then, there was a soft knock at the door. "Honey?" Richard’s voice came from the other side, warm and filled with concern. He pushed the door open slowly, peeking in with a smile.

"I brought you some lunch," he said, stepping inside with a tray in his hands. The aroma of warm soup and freshly baked bread filled the room, making Khana realize just how hungry she was.

Her heart swelled at the sight. Richard had always been thoughtful, but in that moment, he seemed more caring and attentive than ever. "Thank you," she said, her voice tinged with emotion. She smiled and patted the space beside her, inviting him to sit down.

Richard sat beside her, and as they shared a quiet moment, Khana felt a warmth spread through her. Maybe, just maybe, marrying Richard hadn’t been a mistake after all. He was a good man, a loving husband, and the father of her child.

After a while, Karylle returned, offering her guidance. "Once he’s done feeding, you need to make Kharl burp," she instructed gently. "It’s important, darling. If he doesn’t burp properly, he might spit up everything he just ate."

Richard’s mother nodded in agreement, her experience as a mother shining through. "She’s right. You did that when you were a baby, Richard. You’d spit up half of your meal if we didn’t make sure you burped after every feeding."

Khana smiled at the advice, feeling a little more confident with every passing moment. She held Kharl up, gently patting his back until a soft burp escaped his tiny lips. The sound was followed by a giggle from Karylle, who couldn’t resist the child’s display of cuteness.

"My gracious!" she exclaimed. "What a strange expression! So cute!"

Richard's mother chimed in, laughing. "He looks just like you did when you were a baby, Richard. That same little smirk when you were in a good mood."

Richard watched the exchange with a smile, but inside, he felt a strange unease. He adored his son, there was no question about that, but there was a nagging feeling he couldn’t shake. As he stared at Kharl’s tiny face, a wave of jealousy swept over him, catching him off guard.

He didn’t hate Kharl, not at all. But the thought that his son might somehow come between him and Khana gnawed at him. They had only just begun to truly connect as husband and wife, and now there was this tiny, demanding presence that needed all of Khana’s attention.

Richard swallowed hard, trying to push the feeling away. He knew it was irrational, that he was being selfish. But still, the fear lingered in the back of his mind—what if he never truly won Khana’s heart? What if Kharl took her away from him before he had the chance?