Chapter 81: The Warmth of Acceptance

I didn't know when sleep had taken me, but I woke up to a warmth I didn't recognize. It was comforting, steady, and familiar in a way that confused me. My small fingers twitched, grasping at the fabric beneath them, and as my heavy eyelids fluttered open, I realized something shocking.

I wasn't in Mama's arms.

The scent was different—less floral, more like fresh linen and something faintly metallic, like the tools in Emily's lab. My mind, still hazy with sleep, took a moment to piece together the truth. My head rested against a strong chest, and the arms around me weren't soft like Mama's. They were different. Stronger. More hesitant. My tiny hands clutched at the fabric again, and that's when I remembered everything.

I had fallen asleep in my father's arms.

Panic should've set in, but strangely, it didn't. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath me was rhythmic, lulling, almost like a quiet song. I could hear the faintest sound of his heartbeat, slightly faster than normal, as if he was nervous. As if he was afraid of moving and waking me up.

It was… strange. Unfamiliar.

But it didn't feel bad.

I didn't want to open my eyes completely, afraid that if I did, the moment would disappear. But then I felt movement. The arms around me shifted, ever so gently, as my father tried to sit up without disturbing me. It was so careful, so unlike the man who had once left me behind. My small fingers instinctively tightened around his shirt, and before I could stop myself, a quiet word slipped from my lips.

"Stay…"

I barely registered saying it, but the reaction was immediate. My father's entire body stiffened, as if he had forgotten how to breathe. I could feel his heartbeat jump beneath my cheek. His grip on me, though still gentle, became even more protective, as though he was afraid to let go.

For a long moment, he didn't move, didn't say anything. I wondered if I had made a mistake. If I had let my guard down too soon. But then, in the softest voice I had ever heard from him, he whispered, "Okay."

The single word held more weight than I could understand.

I felt myself being lifted again, but it was slow, deliberate, as if he was terrified of making me uncomfortable. When I peeked up through my lashes, I saw Mama watching us. Her arms were crossed, but there was something in her eyes—something cautious, something protective. And yet… she didn't stop him.

She simply nodded.

It was a silent permission, but a warning, too. She was allowing this, allowing him to be close to me. But if he hurt me—if he even so much as made me flinch—she would tear him away without hesitation.

My father swallowed hard before carrying me up the stairs. I was used to being in my sisters' arms or wrapped securely against Mama's warmth. But his arms were different. They trembled just slightly, as if he was holding something too precious, too fragile. It made my chest ache in a way I didn't understand.

When we reached my bedroom, Mama was the one to pull back the covers. It was my safe place, my sanctuary, where I only allowed my sisters and Mama. But tonight, as my father gently laid me down, I didn't push him away.

The warmth disappeared for just a second as he pulled back. I should've let him go. I should've turned over and closed my eyes, like I always did. But my fingers moved before I could stop them, grasping the sleeve of his shirt, holding on just enough to make him pause.

I didn't know why I did it.

I just… didn't want him to leave yet.

"Stay," I whispered again, barely audible, barely believing the word had left my lips.

His breath caught. I heard it. Mama did too. The entire room felt frozen in time.

Then, after what felt like forever, he exhaled shakily and nodded. "I'll stay."

Mama hesitated for only a moment before sighing and allowing it. She sat on the other side of the bed, watching over me like she always did. I felt the mattress dip slightly as my father settled at the edge, not too close, not too far.

It was a small moment. A quiet moment.

But for the first time in a long time, my father didn't feel like a stranger.

And for tonight… that was enough.