birthday 3

It's been a week since my birthday, but the tension in the air hasn't left our home. There's an undeniable current of unease that's impossible to ignore. My dad has become extra careful, almost paranoid, triple-checking the locks and the house's protective barriers every single day. His usual easy-going nature has shifted into something much more cautious.

My mother, too, has changed—she's more easily startled than I've ever seen her, like she's expecting something to happen at any moment. It's as if both of them are on edge, anticipating a danger that I can't quite see yet.

Last night, I overheard them discussing something that made my heart race—the possibility of moving out. I was on my way to the bathroom when their hushed voices carried from the living room. The scene was hard to forget: my dad had his arms wrapped around my mom, gently caressing her shoulder in a repetitive, soothing motion.

"Should we run away again?" my mom asked, her voice trembling and heavy with tears.

Dad responded, trying to sound reassuring, though there was a noticeable uncertainty in his tone. "It's already been a week. If something were going to happen, it would've by now."

But even I could tell he wasn't fully convinced.

My mom's voice grew more frantic as she pressed on, her body trembling even more. "But those gifts, Theo... we didn't put them there. Someone did, and that's terrifying enough. We couldn't detect them. I couldn't detect them!" She was holding onto him tightly, fear evident in every word.

Dad stayed silent, just listening to her worries, though I could sense that he was just as anxious. He didn't want to add to her fear by confirming her suspicions, even though he likely shared them.

"Do you think it's someone from the capital?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide with uncertainty.

"I don't know," he replied, but his tone suggested that he'd been considering the same possibility.

"If it were them, they would've shown themselves by now. That's not how they operate." She paused, her voice dropping as if the next thought scared her even more. "Do you think it's his original family? Do they want him back?"

Her eyes locked on him then, wide and filled with terror.

"I don't know," my dad whispered desperately, his usual calm shattered by uncertainty. He didn't have the answers, and it was clear it tore him apart not knowing how to protect us from an invisible threat.

My mom's face twisted with fear, her voice breaking as she clutched him tighter. "No, no, no, nooooo!" she sobbed, her words frantic. "They can't take him away from me! Edy is my son! No one can take him away, right?! They won't take my baby, right?!" Her voice rose into a scream as the tears streamed down her face.

I'd never seen her so afraid, so vulnerable. The idea of losing me, of someone taking me away, consumed her with panic. Dad held her, trying to soothe her, but his eyes betrayed his own fear. He didn't know how to answer her, because deep down, he was just as scared.

My dad hushed her softly, about to speak, but before he could say a word, she interrupted him, her voice shaky and desperate. "Don't tell me you don't know... he's my baby. I finally have a baby... they won't take him away from me, right?!" Her words were more like a plea, as if she was begging for reassurance, needing him to tell her no—even if it was just a comforting lie.

And that's exactly what he did. "They won't take him away," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "No one will separate our family. I won't let anything happen. Don't worry." He tried his best to sound reassuring, to be the rock she needed, but I could hear the cracks in his voice, the hidden fear he was trying so hard to mask.

I stood there, listening from the shadows, unnoticed. I should've gone back to bed, but I couldn't. The weight of their fear and sadness was suffocating, and even though I knew I shouldn't be eavesdropping, I couldn't just ignore it. I felt frozen, torn between stepping away and staying to understand what was going on.

I walked into the living room, rubbing my eyes like someone who had just woken up. "Mommy," I called softly.

They both quickly wiped away their tears and tried to compose themselves, though it was clear they'd been crying.

"Baby, were you scared when you woke up alone?" my mom asked, doing her best to sound normal, but the shakiness in her voice gave her away.

"No, I'm a big boy. I'm not scared," I replied, trying to sound brave.

"Yeah, that's my man. Come here, buddy," my dad said with a forced smile, lifting me and placing me between them on the couch.

"Yes, you are," my mom added, her voice softer now, though her eyes still looked a little red. They both hugged me tightly, as if holding me could keep the fear away. I leaned into them, feeling the weight of something unspoken but too big for me to understand fully.

My question seemed to catch them off guard. For a brief moment, they both froze, clearly realizing that in all their worrying and overthinking, they had forgotten to actually talk to me about the most important part of the celebration—what choosing the scepter meant. I could see the regret flash across their faces, the guilt of having left me in the dark, when the whole event was supposed to be for me.

After what felt like an eternity, my dad finally spoke, his voice low but steady. "Well, son, choosing a scepter... it's a bit complicated," he began, searching for the right words. "A scepter is a symbol of authority, power, and leadership. It's usually associated with rulers, people who have the strength and wisdom to lead others. In many ways, it's something that chooses you as much as you choose it."

My mom, still holding me, gently added, "It's not something we expected, darling. Most kids your age choose toys or tools... something simple. But the scepter... it's... well, it's very rare." Her voice trembled slightly, but she smiled, trying to reassure me.

I nodded slowly, not entirely sure I understood everything. "Does that mean I'm supposed to be a king or something?" I asked, half-joking.

They both exchanged glances, not laughing this time. Dad sighed and ruffled my hair. "We don't know what it means yet, but no matter what, we'll figure it out together. You're still our little boy, and we love you just the same. Don't worry, okay?"

But as much as they tried to reassure me, I could feel the weight of the unknown in their words. Something had changed, and none of us knew exactly what it was yet.but I didn't press them for more. It felt like there was more to this than they were telling me, but for now, I was okay with that. What mattered most was that they were with me, no matter what the future held.

Hello, sunshines! 🌞

Here's a new chapter for you! I'll be doing my best to update as quickly as I can. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for your support!