GoodReadChapter 217 The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the wide open windows, casting a warm light across the polished surface of the piano in front of me.
The familiar hum of the household filled the room-children's laughter, the occasional soft shuffle of feet, and the ever present weight of my thoughts, which lingered in the background like a melody I couldn't quite finish. The return of Monologue had stirred a storm across the world.
It wasn't just about the music video I had released, albeit unintentionally; it was the three year silence that had made it all so much more impactful Fans from every corner of the world buzzed with excitement, comments flooding social media, speculating and debating.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtSeven claimed they heard lullabies and the distant cry of babies within the tune-a clue, they believed, that my disappearance might have been due to something far more personal than a creative hiatus.
But none of that mattered at this moment, sitting in my living room, surrounded by the two most important people in my world-my children.
"Mummy!" A small but sweet voice tugged at my leg.
I glanced down to see Shirlika, her large, innocent eyes looking up at me, her dark curls framing her cherubic face like a halo.
"It's almost Christmas. What will Grandpa Claus give us this year?" I couldn't help but smile as I reached down to scoop her up into my arms, settling her comfortably on my lap. "What present do you want from Grandpa Claus, my little one?" Her answer was immediate, as if she had been thinking about it for weeks. "I want Daddy." My smile wavered, and for a moment, I faltered.
The nshe spoke was a ghost in our home, a nthat lived only in the stories I told them and the whispers they must have overheard.
Before I could respond, a more serious voice broke the moment.
"Shirlika, get off Mummy. You'll crush her, you're too heavy." I booked up to see my son, Sherlock.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmUnlike Shirlika's soft features, he had inherited a sharper look.
His dark eyes, even at his young age, already carried an intensity far beyond his years.
Where Shirlika was carefree, he was cautious.
Where she laughed, he often brooded. He approached the piano with his hands tucked behind his back, as if assessing a battlefield. "Sherlock" I said softly, "your sister is just fine." Shirlika stuck out her tongue at him, her mischievous eyes glinting.
"You're just jealous, Sherlock, because I get to sit with Mummy and you don't!" His cheeks flushed slightly, but he crossed his arms over his chest.
"I'm not jealous. I'm just trying to be careful." I chuckled softly, patting the empty space next toon the piano bench.
"Chere, my little man. What would you like for Christmas?" Before Sherlock could answer, Shirlika, in true younger sibling fashion, chimed in. Chapter 217 "He wargs Daddy too? He tiddlas iglar Sherlock's eyes widened, his face reddening further as he stopped. "I me? And 16, waxedy of cond tear him a sous for shanda and making Mummy sad Shirlika giggled. "You said you wanted to see him, to see it to take live you Sherlock crossed his arms and huffed. "Only so1 codd best fam Their banter, while playful, carried an undercurrent of the pism we all felt-pain that neither of them fully underdoof, but pain nonetheles 1 felt the weight of their words tug at my heart
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