Semua Bab Mummy, Please Marry Uncle Biker Daddy: Bab 151 - Bab 160

~ Mara ~ I don’t wake up gently. I come back in pieces. First the weight in my body, then the ache, then the sound of a small, uneven breath that doesn’t belong to me. My eyes open slowly, and the room settles into place around me. Hospital walls. Dim light. The steady quiet that only exists after something big has already happened. My head turns slightly, careful this time, and the first thing I see is Cole standing near the window, holding something in his arms like he doesn’t trust the world not to take it. Him. My chest tightens instantly. “Cole,” I whisper, my voice barely there. He turns fast. Too fast for someone trying to stay calm. His eyes find mine, and something in his facial expression changed, like he’s been holding everything in place and just loosened his grip a little. He walks over without saying anything, each step, careful like he’s carrying something fragile enough to break if he moves wrong. “You’re awake,” he says quietly. “I am,” I answer, watc

~ Mara ~ The crying isn’t unfamiliar. That’s the problem. I know this sound. I’ve heard it before. I’ve handled it before. There’s nothing new about it, nothing confusing, nothing I haven’t already done years ago with Lily. And yet— Whatever I do is not working. I stand in the nursery, holding him against my chest, shifting his weight slightly as I move back and forth across the room. My steps are steady. The same rhythm I used before. The same way I rocked Lily, the same way that used to calm her down. But he keeps crying. “I fed you,” I murmur, adjusting his position again, checking his blanket, his temperature, everything out of habit. “You’re fine.” My voice sounds calm but it doesn’t feel calm. I pause, listening, trying to hear something different in his cry. Something that tells me what I’m missing. Because there has to be something. There always was before. I shift him to my shoulder, rubbing his back slowly. Waiting. Nothing. The sound cuts thr

~ Lily ~ The house is big. I liked that at first. Now it feels like when you shout into a room and your voice comes back at you. I sit on the floor with my coloring book open, my legs folded under me. The crayon is in my hand, but I’m not really drawing anything. I keep coloring the same corner over and over until the paper starts to feel rough. The baby starts crying again. I pause. I listen. I don’t get up. Before, I would’ve. I would’ve gone to the door, or looked at Mom, or waited for her to move. Now I just sit there and count in my head. One. Two. Three. Cole walks past he must have gotten up earlier. I hear his footsteps before I see him heavy like always. He doesn’t look at me right away. He just goes straight to the baby’s room like that’s the only place that matters when the crying starts. As he open The door opens. The crying subsides. I press the crayon harder against the paper until it snaps. I stare at it for a second. Then I d

~ Mara ~ This house is too big. I don’t mean that in a good way. I’m standing in the hallway, staring at nothing in particular, and it hits me again. Too much space. Too many rooms. Too many places to walk into, and it feels like something is missing. It doesn’t feel like a home right now. It feels like a place I’m trying to fit into. The baby starts fussing from the living room. I don’t move. That’s the part that scares me. With Lily, I used to react without thinking. Every sound pulled me in. Every cry meant something I had to fix. Now I hear it and my body stays still for a second too long. Cole walks past me, already heading toward the sound. “I’ve got him,” he says. I nod even though he’s not looking at me. Of course, he’s got him. He always does now. I follow slower, stopping by the doorway instead of going all the way in. Cole picks up the baby, adjusts him easily, like it’s second nature. His movements are steady with no hesitation or frustr

~ Mara ~ The crying doesn’t stop. It starts low. Just noise. Something I can ignore for a minute while I stand in the kitchen trying to remember what I walked in here for. Then it builds. I grip the edge of the counter and close my eyes for a second. I know what that cry means. Either he’s Hungry, tired or uncomfortable maybe something else. I just… don’t react fast enough. By the time I turn around, Cole is already there. Of course he is. He lifts the baby, checks him, and adjusts him like he’s done it a hundred times. The crying reduces. Then fades. Just like that. I stay where I am. Watching it happen again. Watching him fix it. “You good,” he asks without looking at me. “Yeah,” I reply The word comes out automatically. He nods once and keeps going, like he believes me. Or he doesn’t want to push the issue. I don’t know which one is worse. I move past them and walk into the living room. Lily is sitting on the floor again. Same spo