Chapter 137
Alaric stood in the doorway of Harry’s room, watching his son carefully. He could sense Harry’s growing concern. The air was thick with emotion—Alaric had never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but right now, everything felt too heavy to hide.
Harry had noticed something was wrong immediately. He took a step toward Alaric, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by concern. “Dad, are you feeling unwell?” Harry asked, his voice laced with genuine worry. “If you’re not feeling better, you should stay in the hospital until you recover. I’ll be worried if you don’t take care of yourself.”
Alaric felt a wave of warmth rush through him at Harry’s words. This boy—who had stepped into the shoes of someone else, who wasn’t even supposed to be here—had shown more care and compassion than he had expected.
Seeing Harry’s anxious face, Alaric reached out, affectionately patting his head, and smiled. “Dad is fine now, I just missed you so much.”
Harry’s eyes softened with relief. “Really?”
“Of course,” Alaric reassured him. “If I weren’t well, why would the doctor allow me to leave the hospital?”
Harry let out a sigh of relief, still not entirely convinced but trusting his father’s words. “It’s good that Dad is fine. You startled me before.”
Alaric smiled faintly, his gaze lingering on Harry for a moment longer than usual. In that instant, a sense of guilt washed over him. He had been so caught up in everything that he had neglected Harry, the one person who had stood by him. “Caspian,” Alaric said, his voice growing soft, “Dad has been busy with work and hasn’t spent much time with you. Mrs. Marigold and Orion haven’t treated you well either, and you’ve suffered because of it. I was wrong to force you to treat Orion as your mother. I didn’t consider things from your perspective. I’m sorry.”
Harry was stunned. He hadn’t expected this. His body instinctively took a step back, his mind racing to process the sudden shift in the conversation. “Dad, why are you suddenly telling me this?” he asked anxiously. “Do you have a terminal illness? Or do I?”
The question hit Alaric with a mix of sadness and amusement. He chuckled softly, his voice shaking off some of the tension. “I swear neither of us has a terminal illness. It’s just that during my time in the hospital, I reflected on myself, and I realized I had done wrong.”
Harry wasn’t sure how to respond, but he wasn’t one to hold grudges. “It’s good if you can change,” he said, his voice warming. “Since you’ve already apologized to me, I can only accept it.”
Alaric smiled, relief in his eyes. “I knew my Caspian was the best.”
He didn’t want the moment to end on such a serious note. “It’s been a while since you had Dad’s cooking. What does Caspian want to eat?”
Harry shook his head in mock disbelief. “Dad, you just recovered from the hospital! How can I bear to let you cook for me? You’re the patient! I’m a responsible man. I have to think about you,” he said, excitement lighting up his face.
Alaric chuckled at his enthusiasm, the image of Harry taking charge of the kitchen giving him a rare, genuine moment of peace. “Great, you’re the head chef, and I’ll assist you. Shall we do it together?”
“Sure! Father and son working together—nothing could be tiring!” Harry replied with a wide grin.
They busied themselves in the kitchen, Alaric assisting Harry as they prepared a simple meal. Despite the simplicity of the dish, the sense of unity and love made it taste like the best meal they’d ever had. After cooking, they sat down to eat together, the atmosphere between them warm and comfortable, a stark contrast to the tensions that had been building up around them.
Once they had finished eating, Harry seemed to brighten at the mention of Galatea. “Dad, have you seen Mom recently?” he asked, clearly missing her presence.
“She stayed with me at the hospital last night,” Alaric replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “She’s rented a shop recently and plans to open a clinic. She’s busy with the renovations.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Mom is opening a clinic?” he said with a mix of excitement and surprise. But there was also a flicker of something else—anger, perhaps, that Caspian hadn’t been told sooner. “Why didn’t you tell me this in advance?”
“Yes, Galatea is starting a business,” Alaric confirmed.
“If Mom starts a business, will she still focus on love?” Harry asked, a little frustrated, still trying to figure out where Galatea’s priorities lay. “Dad, are you and Galatea going to get married?”
Alaric’s eyes softened at the question, but he could feel the weight of the moment. He thought about the future, about how everything would change. “If I marry Galatea, will you be happy?” he asked.
Harry’s eyes lit up immediately. “Of course! Elisa would be the happiest! She’ll finally get to be a princess!”
Alaric’s smile deepened, a quiet satisfaction in his chest. “If I marry Galatea, then Harry and Elisa will naturally be my children. Can you get along with them?”
Harry didn’t hesitate. “Of course! I’m too lonely by myself. I love having siblings. With Harry and Elisa, I won’t be lonely anymore.”
Alaric couldn’t help but feel a lump form in his throat. The previous Caspian had always been so reclusive and distant, but Harry—who had stepped into those shoes—was full of warmth and hope. He was making connections, dreaming of a family, and Alaric couldn’t have been prouder.
“Great,” Alaric said, his voice soft. “Since you like Harry and Elisa so much, next time I’ll take you to meet them.”
Harry’s face brightened. “We don’t need to rush to meet Harry and Elisa. Dad, marry Galatea first. I can’t wait any longer.”
“Alright,” Alaric agreed, feeling an unexpected sense of peace. He couldn’t promise what the future held, but he could make this one promise: Harry would no longer be alone.
After dinner, Alaric took Harry out to play some ball, then read with him, helped him bathe, and tucked him into bed. The day had been filled with so much love and care that Alaric couldn’t help but feel like a different man.
“Time to sleep, Caspian,” he said softly, a hint of affection in his voice. “I’ll take you to school in the morning.”
“Okay, Dad. Goodnight,” Harry replied, content with the attention and care he had received. He was at peace for the first time in a long while.
After Harry fell asleep, Alaric made his way to the task that had been on his mind. He carefully collected a strand of hair from Harry, the follicle still attached, just as Cormac had instructed.
He then went back to Harry’s room, gently covered him with a blanket, and quietly left, closing the door behind him. Back in his own room, he dialed Galatea’s number.
“Why are you calling me when you’re so busy?” Galatea answered, sounding amused. “I thought you had no time today.”
“I’m going to the office tomorrow,” Alaric replied, trying to sound casual. “Today, I was just dealing with some household matters.”
But Galatea, as perceptive as ever, sensed something was off. “What’s wrong? Did you have a fight with Mrs. Marigold?”
Alaric couldn’t help but laugh, albeit bitterly. “You’re amazing. How did you guess that?”
“You said you were going home to talk to Mrs. Marigold,” she observed. “Your tone just now didn’t sound right. Did you have a serious argument?”
“It’s just that Mrs. Marigold is too controlling,” Alaric explained, his frustration creeping back into his voice. “She always wants to dictate my life. I don’t want to be controlled by her anymore. It’s a contradiction I’ve been used to, but it’s getting harder to bear. What about you? Are you still at the shop?”
“Yes, I’m about to finish and head home,” Galatea answered, a hint of amusement in her voice.
“Why are you still out so late?” Alaric asked, his concern rising. “I’ve told you before, that street is full of troublemakers. It’s not safe for you to be out so late. Wait there, I’ll come pick you up.”
“No need,” Galatea said kindly. “You have work tomorrow. Go to bed early tonight. Didn’t you arrange for a car for me? I already called James Smith, and he’s on his way.”
“Alright,” Alaric said, but the concern in his voice didn’t waver. “Keep your phone’s location on. I want to make sure you get home safely.”
“I got it,” Galatea responded with a smile in her voice. “The car’s here, I’m getting in now. You go to bed early.”
“I’ll only sleep once you’re at home,” Alaric said, his words carrying a deep sense of protectiveness.
“As you wish,” Galatea said with a gentle laugh before hanging up.
After the call ended, Alaric stood by