The eighth night is full of stories about our child.
On one side, I'm curious to hear from him. On the other, I can feel Alexander's desperate tone.
He wants to meet our son again.
But then, why did he destroy our future together?
The way Alexander describes the little bun with incredible blue eyes makes me smile a couple of times. He talks a lot, so much that his throat becomes sore somewhen late into the night.
I just lie next to him, my head on his chest and my eyes half-closed. It's so relaxing. I could listen to him for hours without getting tired. His proud smirk and shining eyes are so inspiring.
Will he talk like this about our child too?
On the ninth night, finally, I hear the rest.
It's painful, but certainly not worse than what Alexander feels. He cries while telling me about our last banquet.
