“You didn't tell me why you have so many writings on your arm, daddy,” Asher said in his tiny, curious voice, the hint of laughter tugging at his lips as he fumbled with one of Ethan’s fingers, laying on the bed.“Oh, these?" Ethan said with a raised brow, glancing at his tattoos.Asher nodded.“It's art." He replied. “You know, daddy used to like art when he was little." “Like me?" “Yeah, exactly like you. I’d draw on everything—my books, the walls, even my bed. And my mum? She’d beat me so hard.” He pulled a goofy face.Asher giggled."And when I became a man, I still drew everywhere until I drew on my body.”"Isn't that bad?" Ethan nodded. “Very. And if my mummy were here, she'd beat me till I pee on myself." Asher chuckled some more.Jules leaned against the doorway, arms folded, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips.She had expected Ethan to be furious when he arrived at the hospital—instead, he’d said almost nothing about Asher’s condition and took it as a chance
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