Chapter 568 A Family Together
WhenReunited
The clock had long since struck eleven when Patricia and James finally made their way back to the hotel. The atmosphere that had once been familiar and comfortable between them had subtly shifted, becoming charged with an unspoken tension.
As they crossed the threshold of their hotel room, they moved in tandem, a dance they'd perfected over time. However, the doorway proved too narrow for their synchronized entrance. Patricia's shoulder brushed against James's arm in an accidental collision. The contact sent a jolt through them both, causing them to stiffen and retreat in unison, as if choreographed.
"You first."
"No, you first."
Their words hung in the air, creating a palpable tension that seemed to electrify the space between them. An indescribable current flowed through the room, inexplicably causing their cheeks to warm and their breaths to quicken.
Their eyes met in a silent exchange, each gaze a piercing arrow that struck straight to the heart. They both hesitated, then quickly averted their eyes, too overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment to maintain the connection. Their eyes darted nervously around the room, the temperature seeming to rise with each passing second.
Patricia cast her gaze downward, biting her lower lip in an attempt to quell her rising anxiety. Her hands twisted the hem of her clothes in a nervous rhythm. The room was eerily silent, the only sound being the rapid thumping of her heart, a beat so loud she feared it might leap from her chest.
The sensation was both foreign and familiar, a paradox that left her feeling both comforted and terrified.
James, on the other hand, clenched his right hand into a fist, a physical manifestation of his struggle to contain his burgeoning emotions. His voice was rough with strain as he suggested, "We've had a long day. Let's shower and rest early."
Patricia nodded in agreement, wanting to meet his gaze but fearing what she might find reflected there. She hurried into the hotel room as if pursued by some unseen threat.
Once inside, she didn't dare to linger in the living room. She made a beeline for her room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, her hands pressed against her racing heart. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion.
What was happening?
Why was she feeling this way?
She dared not ponder the implications.
She refused to betray her relationship with Martin, even though he was no longer with them. She wouldn't allow herself to fall in love with another man.
She was resolute.
She wouldn't let it happen.
Meanwhile, James only entered the room after he heard the soft click of Patricia's door closing. He stared at the closed door, his fist tightening to the point where his knuckles turned a ghostly white.
The more he tried to suppress his feelings, the more they threatened to overwhelm him. As the minutes ticked by, his resolve began to waver. His feelings for Patricia were becoming increasingly difficult to control, and he didn't know how much longer he could keep them at bay. He was acutely aware that if things continued as they were, Patricia would eventually discover his secret.
He couldn't let that happen.
He had to stem the tide before it became a flood.
That night, Patricia, who had been a stranger to dreams for quite some time, found herself enveloped in one once more.
In this dream, she was in the kitchen, cooking with a joy that bubbled over like the pots on the stove. The children were scattered around the house, their laughter and chatter providing a lively soundtrack. They were engrossed in their world of television and toys, the outside world forgotten.
Maria and Declan, now old enough to walk, were the main culprits behind the disarray. They ran around the house, leaving a trail of toys in their wake. Charles, having grown significantly, followed them dutifully, picking up the scattered playthings.
Every time Patricia carried a bowl of soup out of the kitchen, she would call out to them.
"Maria, Declan, be good. Don't run around everywhere. Be careful not to fall and don't throw things around. If something breaks, it's okay, but what if you trip?"
She would then turn to Charles, Randy, and Fannie, who were keeping an eye on the younger ones. "Dinner is almost ready. We'll eat when Daddy gets home."
In the dream, the painful reality of Martin's absence seemed to have faded into oblivion. The house was filled with laughter and joy, a stark contrast to the silence that had become their norm. It was exhausting, but it was a kind of exhaustion that was laced with a solidity and satisfaction she had never experienced before.
Soon, everything was ready. Fannie, ever the thoughtful one, ran into the kitchen to help Patricia carry the soup. Patricia dried her hands on the kitchen towel and called out to Charles, "Charles, call Daddy and ask him how long before he gets home."
"Okay!" Charles responded with a hum. But before he could dial out, the sound of the fingerprint lock disengaging echoed from the entryway.
Hearing the noise, Fannie abandoned her task and sprinted towards the sound, excitement propelling her forward. "Daddy, you're back!"
Maria and Declan, barely able to keep their footing, opened their little arms wide and stumbled towards the door upon hearing that Martin was home. Drool hung from their mouths, their words mumbled and unclear, "Daddy, Daddy..."
Martin, delighted, squatted down with his arms open, waiting for them to run into his embrace. However, the two little ones tripped over each other's feet, tumbling to the ground in a heap.
"It hurts... it really hurts..."
"Wah... Daddy hold, Daddy hold, hold..."
Their cries were a mix of snot and tears, a comically pitiful sight.
"Ha-ha, silly, two little sillies," Fannie clutched her belly, laughing unrestrainedly. Charles rolled his eyes so far back it seemed they might flip backward. Randy Langley wanted to help them up but found their tumbling stances so hilarious that he couldn't hold back and burst into laughter along with Fannie.
Martin, too, couldn't help but laugh. He stood up, walked over, and lifted the two of them off the floor, one in each arm, soothing them patiently. "Don't cry, my treasures, Daddy's got you."
Maria and Declan weren't really hurt from the fall; they were just seeking Martin's attention by crying. Now, soothed by his comfort, they quickly started to giggle. One on each side, they planted firm kisses on Martin's cheeks, melting his heart with their affection.
Meanwhile, Patricia had set the soup on the table and called out to Martin with a smile, "You're back! Come wash up and have dinner." She then shouted to the children, "Daddy's home, hurry and wash your hands for dinner."
"Okay!" Charles, Randy, and Fannie heeded her directive and rushed to the restroom as if being even a moment late meant losing a race. After washing their hands, the three little ones took their respective seats in an orderly fashion.
Patricia walked towards Martin, her eyes crinkling with a smile. "Give them to me, go wash your hands and eat..." As she spoke, her gaze fell upon Martin.
But upon seeing Martin's face, she froze. Martin's face seemed shrouded in fog despite his unmistakable silhouette, familiar voice, unchanged hairstyle, and identical clothes. She was certain this man was Martin.
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