âI want more!â She squirmed and protested in various ways.
It took a good thirty minutes, but finally, she drifted to sleep.
Rubbing his temples, Holden marveled at his own patience throughout the ordeal.
He took a moment to tidy up Ariana, wiping her brow and taking off her shoes, ensuring she slept comfortably.
With Ariana taken care of, his attention shifted to Melon, who sat on the bed, fighting off sleep with frequent yawns.
Holden stroked the childâs hair, murmuring, âItâs bedtime for you too.
â
Sleepy-eyed Melon reached out, wanting a hug.
Holden, seeing the kid struggling to stay awake, felt a tug at his heartstrings.
He gently scooped up Melon and located the childrenâs room, setting him down softly.
But as Holden was about to exit, Melonâs little hand latched onto his leg.
Despite his fatigue, the child held up a storybook.
âMr.
Mask, will you read me a story?â
Holden sighed deeply, rubbing his face, then nodded.
âAlright, letâs hear a story,â he agreed, settling beside Melon on the bed.
Even on the brink of sleep, a smile tugged at Melonâs lips as he nestled closer to listen.
At one point, drowsy but still attentive, Melon murmured, âYour voice sounds just like my Daddyâs.
â
That gentle observation made Holden smile softly.
It struck him that lately, heâd been in a role reminiscent of a father figure to Melon, trying to build trust and connection.
Yet, he wasnât about to unpack that with Melon right then.
He was drawing breath to continue when Melon, with eyes half-closed, added, âYou donât just sound like him, you know.
You look Like him too.
â
That gave Holden a pause.
Melon had made a similar comment when theyâd first met.
Holden had brushed it off then, attributing it to a childâs imagination.
Hearing it again now, though, a mixture of curiosity and doubt bubbled up inside him.
He voiced his thoughts, asking, âReally? How much do I resemble your dad?â