NovelEnglishChapter 1612:
“Enrolling them in the sschool was the right decision,” Eric remarked, his attention shifting to the crimson
fabric taking shape in her hands. “What's this project?”
Recognition then dawned in his eyes. “Is that... my sweater? The one from last winter?”
His memory surprised her. “You've been working on this for nearly a year now, haven't you?” he asked, a hint of
wonder in his voice.
“Ugh.” Hadley shot him a playful glare. “You have a talent for frustratingjust when | gather momentum on
ie.”
Each stitch carried her emotions—love woven into every row, yet the needles always fell silent during their
disagreements, as if the yarn itself refused to cooperate.
“Who knows if I'll complete it this teither?” Hadley muttered, eyeing the remaining yarn with skepticism.
“You will.” Eric captured her hand between his, leaned close until their foreheads touched, and whispered, “This
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇttime, nothing will stand in our way.” His lips brushed against hers, soft as the wool between her fingers.
A whimper pierced their intimate moment.
“Stop...” Hadley pressed a palm against his chest. “Joy's right here,” she warned, glancing anxiously toward their
daughter.
The last thing they needed was their daughter awakening to this display of affection.
“Boohoo...” A tiny sob confirmed her fears.
As if summoned by her mother’s thoughts, Joy's soft weeping filled the room.
Eric immediately released Hadley and crossed to Joy, scooping her into his arms. “Hey, my little sunshine, what's
with these rain clouds?” he asked, thumbing away a tear.
“Daddy...” Joy gazed up at him with red-rimmed eyes, distress painting her cherubic features.
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“That's right, princess. Daddy’s here now,” he soothed, cradling her closer.
“Daddy...” Joy burrowed into his shoulder, her small body trembling. “I don’t feel good,” she whimpered against
his collar.
She scrubbed at her eyes with pudgy fists, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“My eyes won't open properly. Boohoo...” she hiccupped between sobs.
The little girl hovered in that hazy space between dreams and wakefulness.
“I understand, sweetheart. Let Daddy fix this,” he murmured, his voice gentle as rainfall.
Eric carried Joy to the window, her weight familiar against his chest. “Let's see what's happening outside, shall
we? Look at those raindrops dancing...”
He'd mastered his daughter's rhythms by now. Joy invariably emerged from naps with storm clouds in her
disposition.
She'd inherited her mother’s post-slumber sensitivity—another trait binding mother and daughter together.
Eric treasured even these fussy moments, finding charm in her sleep-rumpled indignation.
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