Chapter 14: Father and Son Bond 2
1655words
Leo’s teacher, Ms. Flores, asked at the parent-teacher conference. This was the first parent-teacher meeting since Leo’s transfer, and Ethan and I attended together.
“I’m a financial crimes investigator,” I answered, noticing the surprise that flashed in her eyes.
“Wow, that sounds exciting,” she smiled, then turned to Ethan. “And you, Mr. Morgan?”
“I work in finance,” Ethan answered simply, not mentioning his CEO position or family background. He wore a simple navy suit today, looking more like an ordinary father.
Ms. Flores looked at both of us, then glanced down at Leo’s file. “Leo is a very bright child, especially excelling in mathematics. His memory is quite remarkable as well.”
“He does have a photographic memory,” I said proudly.
“However,” her expression turned serious, “recently he’s been mentioning some things in class… about ‘bad guys’ and ‘secret missions.’ Considering he’s just experienced a school transfer, I wanted to confirm if his home environment is stable.”
Ethan and I exchanged a glance. Recent events had clearly affected Leo, despite our best efforts to protect him.
“Leo has indeed experienced some changes recently,” Ethan said calmly. “We’ve just… reunited as a family. We’re doing everything possible to ensure he feels safe and loved.”
“I understand,” Ms. Flores nodded. “If Leo needs any additional support, the school has excellent counseling resources.”
Walking out of the meeting room, I felt relieved but also somewhat worried. Ethan’s hand gently held mine, the touch feeling so natural, as if we had always walked hand in hand through every moment of life.
“Do you think Leo is really okay?” I asked Ethan, my voice carrying undisguisable concern. “Maybe we should take him to see a therapist?”
“Perhaps,” Ethan considered, his brow slightly furrowed, an expression that reminded me of Leo when he was thinking. “But I believe the most important thing is to make him feel stability and security in his life.”
He hesitated, uncertainty flashing in his eyes, then gently squeezed my hand. “Olivia, I’ve been thinking… perhaps we should consider a more permanent arrangement. For Leo’s sake.”
I knew what he meant, that unspoken proposal hanging in the air. He wanted a real family, not just a temporary arrangement of living under the same roof. The thought filled me with both anticipation and fear.
—
“Mom, what day is tomorrow?” Leo asked me before bedtime, his eyes sparkling with mystery. Wearing dinosaur-patterned pajamas, he looked more excited than usual.
“Saturday?” I answered as I tucked him in.
“It’s a special day!” he smiled mysteriously, his small hands clenched into fists. “But it’s a secret. Daddy said not to tell you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You and Daddy have secret plans?”
Leo nodded, then suddenly turned serious. “Mom, do you love Daddy? Like mommies and daddies on TV?”
This direct question caught me off guard. How could I explain adult emotions to a five-year-old?
“I… I care about your daddy, Leo,” I answered carefully, my fingers gently stroking his cheek. “We both love you, that’s what’s most important.”
“But Aunt Sophie says you used to love each other very much, like in fairy tales,” Leo persisted. “She says you just need a little help to remember.”
“It’s bedtime, little detective.” I kissed his forehead, changing the subject. “You can tell me about your secret plans tomorrow, okay?”
Leo nodded, closing his eyes. “Goodnight, Mom. Tomorrow will be special.”
I gently closed the door and walked to the living room, finding Ethan sitting on the sofa reviewing some documents. He wore a dark gray cotton T-shirt and loose pajama pants, looking much more relaxed than usual. His black hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d just run his fingers through it, less meticulously groomed than his business persona, with more of a casual, approachable hominess. The soft lamplight fell on his profile, highlighting his perfect features while making him appear more approachable.
He looked up at me. “Is Leo asleep?” he asked softly, setting down the documents, the pen between his fingers casually placed on the coffee table.
“Yes,” I nodded, sitting down on the sofa across from him. “He says tomorrow is a special day, but he wouldn’t tell me what it is.”
Ethan smiled, a hint of mystery in his expression. His ankle rested casually on his knee, one arm stretched along the back of the sofa, his whole posture revealing a relaxation and ease I rarely saw in him. “We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.”
We sat quietly for a while, with only the ticking of the clock and occasional car sounds from outside. This silence was no longer awkward but a comfortable coexistence.
“Leo asked if I love you,” I finally said, my voice so soft it was almost a whisper.
Ethan’s expression softened, an emotion I couldn’t quite read flashing in his eyes. He sat up straighter, the muscle lines under his T-shirt faintly visible. “What did you tell him?”
“I said I care about you, and we both love him,” I answered honestly, my fingers unconsciously drawing circles on the sofa armrest. “I didn’t know how to explain our relationship to a five-year-old.”
“So,” Ethan asked softly, his eyes carrying a vulnerability and hope, “do you care about me, Olivia?”
This simple question made my heart race. I looked at him, at those blue eyes that once captivated me, at the man who had opposed his own father to protect us, at the father who got up at five every morning just to practice baseball with Leo. At this moment, without his business mask, he was just an ordinary man longing to be loved.
“Yes,” I finally admitted, my voice soft but firm. “I care about you, Ethan. More than I’ve been willing to admit.”
His expression brightened, hope gleaming in his eyes. He stood up from the sofa and slowly walked over to sit beside me, close enough that I could smell the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the freshness of shower gel. His gaze tenderly studied me, as if seeking some kind of permission.
“Perhaps this is exactly what we need—a new beginning,” he said softly, his voice deep and warm. “No rush, one step at a time.”
He slowly moved closer, his hand gently touching my cheek, his thumb softly tracing my features. I didn’t pull away but leaned slightly forward. His breath brushed my face, warm and familiar. Then, he gently pressed his lips to my forehead, a kiss as light as a feather yet carrying immense tenderness and promise.
I closed my eyes, feeling this simple yet profoundly meaningful touch. This wasn’t a passionate kiss but something deeper—respect, understanding, patience, and a promise to wait. When his lips left my forehead, I felt a strange sense of peace and certainty.
“One step at a time,” I softly repeated, feeling a long-absent hope sprouting in my heart.
—
The next morning, I was awakened by noise from the kitchen. Leaving my room, I found Leo and Ethan busy in the kitchen, surrounded by chaos.
“Surprise!” Leo shouted excitedly when he saw me. “Happy Mom’s Day!”
I looked at them in confusion. “Mother’s Day? Isn’t that in May?”
“This is our own Mother’s Day,” Ethan explained, wearing an embarrassed smile. “Leo wanted to do something special for you.”
Only then did I notice the state of the kitchen: flour scattered everywhere, eggshells littering the counter, and a plate of somewhat burnt pancakes in the center of the table.
“We made breakfast!” Leo proudly announced. “And presents!”
He produced a handmade card from behind his back with three stick figures holding hands, labeled “Mom,” “Dad,” and “Me.” The background showed a house with a chimney and garden—a typical child’s vision of a happy family.
“This is our home,” he explained, pointing to the card.
I felt my eyes grow moist as I crouched down and hugged Leo tightly. “This is the best gift I’ve ever received, baby. Thank you.”
Looking up at Ethan, I saw him watching us tenderly, his eyes filled with emotions I couldn’t ignore. In that moment, I glimpsed the future we might have—a real family, one filled with love and understanding.
“There’s one more surprise,” he said. “Leo, bring that box over.”
Leo ran to the living room and returned with an elegant gift box. I opened it to find a photo album with “Reed Family Memoirs” written on the cover.
Opening to the first page, I was surprised to see photos of my parents when they were young, along with their university research notes and awards. Photo after photo documented their lives, their smiles, their achievements—memories I thought were lost forever.
“How did you…?” I looked up at Ethan, my voice choked, tears flowing uncontrollably.
“I contacted your parents’ former colleagues and friends, collecting these photos and memories,” Ethan explained softly. “I know you lost many items and memories related to them. I hope this helps you and Leo understand their story.”
This gift was so thoughtful, so carefully considered, striking the softest part of my heart. After my parents’ deaths, I had always tried to preserve memories of his grandparents for Leo, but resources were limited. Now, Ethan had given us an invaluable gift—our family’s history and memories.
“Thank you,” I said softly, tears flowing uncontrollably.
Ethan stepped forward, his hand gently wiping away the tears on my face, the touch tender and familiar. “Your parents would be proud of you, Olivia.”
Leo watched us, his face full of expectation. “Can we be like the families on TV now?”
Ethan and I exchanged smiles, not answering immediately. But in that moment, I felt some of the ice in my heart beginning to melt. Perhaps Sophie was right; perhaps I had been too rational, too cautious, too afraid of being hurt again.
Perhaps it was time to give our story a new beginning.
