All Chapters of Your brother, my husband : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Raymond's POV The beeping was steady, Too steady.It was the kind of sound you both feared and clung to. Nobody knows what's happening.I stood in the hospital room, watching my father breathe beneath thin cotton sheets. Beatrice sat beside him, one hand over his. Her fingers trembled, but her face remained still—regal even in heartbreak.Naomi stood near the window, holding Aurora close to her chest. Miranda clutched my other hand, unusually quiet.He had fainted in the nursery. No warning, No chance to prepare for anything. Thanks God we saw him early.And now here we were—waiting. Unsure of what to expect but everyone is acting strong Incase of what the outcome might be.He stirred around 6:47 p.m.Eyes fluttered open.Beatrice gasped softly. Naomi turned. I stepped closer.“Dad?” I said carefully. Almost all part of me want to rush to hug him but I just thread carefully.He blinked once, Then again.“Raymond,” he rasped, his voice like gravel and paper.“I’m here.”He looked arou

Raymond's POV The mornings were getting quieter day by day. Not the peaceful kind of quiet we’d come to cherish, but the kind where you start counting breaths—your own and the ones that might not last.My father had grown paler. Slower. His words, once sharp and intentional, sometimes trailed off in the middle of sentences now. His hands trembled when he tried to hold a cup of tea, and his eyes closed a little longer between thoughts.The doctors had warned us.We had two months, if we were lucky.We were already five weeks in.This is really hard on everyone, everyone is fighting in their own silent ways.---He still insisted on staying in the study downstairs. Beatrice moved her reading chair closer to his bed, and a picture of all of us—one Miranda had drawn with uneven heads and stick arms—sat on the windowsill beside his favorite mug.Sometimes he’d hum when Naomi passed through. Other times he’d whisper for Miranda to come sit beside him, asking about her drawings, her stories

Alexander’s POVI didn’t expect to be here, not even after everything I did.Not after the silence, the hurt, the years lost like wind-scattered ash. Not after I hurt Naomi and everyone around me.But here I was—back in this house, this family, this story, And no one had shut the door in my face.Not yet, I didn’t know if that meant I was forgiven.But I knew it meant I had been allowed.And for someone like me, that was everything.I was more than grateful for this opportunity given me and I am not ready to misuse it.---The morning sunlight slipped gently across the floor of the hallway, painting warm streaks over the hardwood. I’d been up before everyone—habit, I guess. A kind of restlessness that came from living with regret. You don't want to do too much or too little, just be balance.I walked past Naomi’s office. She wasn't there.Raymond’s voice echoed low from the nursery. It was Soft, playful. Probably telling Aurora one of his ridiculous animal stories.And then, from the

Raymond's POV Grief really changes the sound of a house. It was just dead silent, nobody was thier self , everyone was just a walking dead in the house.The morning after the memorial, the walls didn’t echo like they used to. The creaks in the floorboards felt heavier. Even the birds outside seemed to chirp more gently, as if they, too, knew not to disturb the silence.I stood in the kitchen with my hands braced on the counter, watching the kettle steam without reaching for it. I wasn't sure what I needed more—tea or stillness. The quiet wrapped around me like a second skin.Naomi came in quietly, wrapped in one of my shirts, hair still damp from her shower. Her hand found mine. She didn’t speak. Always remaining calm despite any conditions.She didn’t need to, We’d both loved him. He was her father on the very best day of her life. He was there to make sure she didn't miss a father figure on our wedding day and now We’d both lost him at a very unexpected time.And now, we were navig

Naomi's POV When I saw Rachael with Alex, I was really shocked and at first words were not coming out because I remembered well, I caught her cheating on my man from the beginning, then she thought he loved her only to find out that she was being use and then they both hurt their selves and went separate ways.But it seems they have really grown over what happened and they are finally letting go of the past which I have done already so that's a good thing.When I had dinner with them, it was very lovely to smile again and I missed them and sincerely I had forgiven them.The next morning, I woke up to the same state if the house, it was becoming our daily routine now in this house.Grief has rhythms, Slow ones, Quiet ones. Sometimes loud, but mostly it just hums in the background—a soft ache you learn to move with. Like music that plays long after the song is over.It had been a week since the memorial. The house had settled into a new kind of stillness, one where we spoke softer and