Life felt strange for Sebastian.
Acier wasn't next to him.
But somehow, it felt like she was.
Every night, as he lay in bed with Nozel resting on his chest, her presence lingered—not in body, but in voice.
Through the transponder, her lullaby drifted into the quiet of the room, soothing their son to sleep.
It was strangely melodious.
Strangely harmonic.
Quite Beautiful.
Contrary to Sebastian's memories that clocked Acier as one of the worst singers he had ever heard.
Still, he closed his eyes and imagined—
Not a transponder.
Not distance.
Not separation.
But her.
Lying next to him, smiling radiantly, her fingers running gently through his hair, sending soft tingles through his soul.
And then, as Nozel drifted off to sleep, snoring ever so slightly—
Her voice would fade.
Silence would settle in.
And then, a whisper.
"Goodnight, Sebastian."
His eyes, slightly red, would stay fixed on the ceiling.
And he would answer.
"Goodnight, Acier Silva."
No nostalgia.
No emotion.
Nothing in his tone betrayed what lay beneath the surface.
Then, the transponder gem would dim.
The line would cut.
And yet, somehow, it never felt like just a greeting or a farewell.
They spoke only a simple hi and bye, but it felt like an entire conversation had been exchanged.
It felt like the lullaby wasn't just for Nozel.
Sebastian wondered if he was reading into things too much.
He wondered if Acier felt even a fraction of what he did.
If her eyes were red.
If she, too, felt emotional.
If she, too, felt sad.
He wanted to see her face.
Because her voice never betrayed a single hint of it.
Sebastian wondered—
Did she think of him the way he thought of her?
Did he appear in her mind at inexplicable moments, unbidden, bringing memories of them?
Did their breakup-not-quite-breakup wound her the way it wounded him?
He never dared to ask.
Because if he did—
If he pushed—
Even this small, fragile light she had returned to him might vanish forever.
So, he kept silent.
Instead, he focused on Nozel.
He played with him.
Fed him.
Rocked him in one arm while studying with the other.
He flipped through books and diagrams, mastering the art of changing a diaper with the same precision he once devoted to improving his healing abilities all for his mother's sake.
He dropped everything when Nozel cried.
Attended to every need.
Every want.
Every little smile, tear, frown, cry, grin, blink, and coo moved him.
Though his main light had left him—
Another had taken its place.
Nozel shone just as brightly in his heart as Acier once had.
His son was the final thread keeping him tethered—
Keeping him from severing the past entirely—
Keeping him from drifting into the unknown.
And yet, the future still loomed before him.
Welcoming.
Yet terrifying.
Because it was a future he couldn't predict.
Couldn't see.
Couldn't understand.
Three years ago, beyond vengeance, the only future he could picture was one with Acier.
But that future would not be.
She would exist in his life—
And yet, not.
This was a path he had never foreseen.
Never accounted for.
So, he would walk it.
And see where it led him.
Because as long as Nozel was there—
He could accept whatever bumps lay ahead.
—
And then—
The first Sunday of March arrived.
With it came something he had not experienced in over a month.
His first day of coexistence with Acier Silva.
—
With Nozel in his arms and a slight gulp, Sebastian slowly opened the door.
And there she stood.
No longer wrapped in a heavy winter coat, but dressed lightly—sweater, linen jeans, Victorian-esque boots.
Spring had arrived.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Ocean blue met lavender.
Neither spoke.
Then, wordlessly, Sebastian stepped aside.
Acier entered with a strained smile.
She bent down, slipping off her boots and placing them onto his shoe rack—
What had once been theirs.
When she turned back, her smile was softer.
More real.
And then she lifted her arms in silent expectation.
Sebastian hesitated only a fraction before gently passing Nozel to her.
Their fingers brushed.
Skin on skin.
Neither flinched.
Neither reacted.
It meant nothing.
Strictly professional.
That's what they told themselves.
They were co-parents.
They would be civil.
They would be mature.
They would get along for Nozel's sake—
And for their own peace of mind.
No rekindling.
No fixation on the past.
They would move forward as they were now.
And so, neither of them felt anything at the contact.
They definitely didn't.
—
Acier beamed down at her son.
"Hello, baby. Have you missed Mommy?"
Her worst fear—
That Nozel would look at her like a stranger—
Didn't happen.
Instead, his face lit up with a giddy smile.
He reached for her, pudgy hands grabbing at her cheeks.
Acier's eyes stung with relief.
Bringing him close, she kissed his forehead—
And Nozel responded by biting her nose.
A startled laugh escaped her lips.
She hugged him tighter as he nuzzled against her neck, warmth filling her chest—
Only for her joy to falter when she noticed Sebastian still lingering by the doorway.
Stiff.
Awkward.
Like he didn't know where to stand.
Her smile dimmed.
With an apologetic wince, she spun on her heel, carrying Nozel deeper into the cottage.
Sebastian followed silently.
They veered into the living room.
Acier settled onto the couch, Nozel sprawled across her lap.
Sebastian sat at the opposite end.
Not too far.
Not too close.
Silence stretched between them.
Two awkward introverts, searching for something—
Anything—
To say.
Acier bit her lip.
Then forced a smile.
"…Wonderful weather we're having."
Sebastian blinked.
Acier cringed.
The silence grew unbearable until Sebastian finally exhaled and muttered, "So… how's things back at your place? How's work?"
Your place.
Not our place.
Acier swallowed the sting and forced another soft grin.
"Fine. Great, even. I took a mission. Got back to my training. And I'm slowly taking over my father's duties. I'll probably be Lady Silva by the end of the year."
Sebastian nodded stiffly.
"I'm happy for you."
A pause.
Acier glanced around the room, searching for something—
Anything—
To change the subject.
To move this along.
To escape.
But in the end, she only sighed.
And turned back to him.
Her voice was quiet.
"…What are we doing here?"
Sebastian parted his lips to answer.
But she wasn't finished.
"Do you have any plans?" she asked. "What are we supposed to do? Together? You and I… with Nozel?"
Sebastian's jaw shut.
Because he didn't have an answer.
Not a single one.
Everything that came to mind—
"I don't know."
"You be the judge."
"We do whatever Nozel needs."
They were all lame.
All worthless.
Acier looked down at Nozel in her lap, lightly tracing a circle over his tiny face.
A soft giggle bubbled from him.
She smiled.
Then, without looking up, she asked, "Has he been fed yet today?"
Sebastian hesitated before nodding.
"Yes… but he woke up pretty early. He might be hungry now."
Acier froze.
Something in his voice made her turn her head—
And then she saw them.
The heavy bags beneath his eyes.
Her breath hitched.
She had her mother, father, sister, and an entire household of servants to share the burden.
Sebastian had no one.
No partner to take shifts when it was his turn.
Nozel consumed his every waking moment.
Every second.
Every ounce of energy.
Acier gritted her teeth.
She whispered, "You can request servants and retainers to help. No matter what, you're still my husband—still a Prince of House Silva. That is your right—"
"I don't want strangers in my house."
Sebastian cut her off.
Calm.
Firm.
Yet, there was a slight edge to his voice.
Acier bit her lip.
"Then what am I?"
Sebastian's gaze sharpened.
"What kind of ridiculous question is that?"
His voice was lower now.
Softer.
"You are the mother of my child. My wife. You are anything but a stranger."
Acier's chest tightened.
Her heart clenched.
And then, before she could second-guess herself, she met his eyes.
"If that's true," she murmured, "then why are you treating me like one?"
Sebastian stilled.
Acier kept going.
"You said we're doing this for Nozel. But tell me—"
She looked him over.
His posture.
His exhaustion.
His quiet, guilty restraint.
"—How does running yourself into the ground benefit him? When was the last time you slept? The last time you had a proper meal? What happens if you collapse, Sebastian? Nozel is two months old. He wouldn't last a few hours without someone watching him."
Sebastian winced.
His head ducked.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
He didn't even try to hide his shame.
That only made Acier feel worse.
Not at him—
But at herself.
For not considering this sooner.
She sighed, shaking her head.
"Forget it," she muttered.
Then, voice quieter, steadier—
"Just… from now on, if things get too hectic, don't shy away from asking for help. If I'm not a stranger, don't act like it. If you need support, call me. I'll drop everything and come here. Nozel isn't only the most important thing in your life. He's the most important thing in mine too."
Sebastian's lips parted, as if to respond—
But Acier wasn't done.
"If seeing me too often is that uncomfortable for you," she added, "then remember—Nozel still has an aunt. And grandparents. As long as we're still married, whether you accept it or not, Aurelia is your sister-in-law. My parents are yours as well. You can contact them."
Sebastian bit his lip.
Then sighed.
And nodded.
Acier exhaled, relieved—
Until Sebastian spoke again.
"Then the same goes for you."
She froze.
Sebastian shifted, just slightly, drawing nearer.
Not too close.
But not so distant anymore.
And when he met her gaze, his voice was steady.
"If you need help with Nozel, remember—I am that boy's father. The first contact. The first person you should ever look to for help. Even if I'm on the other side of the world—"
His eyes softened.
"The first person you should ever call… is me."
Acier swallowed.
Then—
A small nod.
Sebastian let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
And leaned back, satisfied.
Acier looked down at Nozel, who gazed up at her with matching lavender eyes, smiling.
She giggled.
"Well, Baby, it's feeding time."
Nozel wiggled excitedly.
Sebastian smiled at the sight before standing to retrieve the milk and bottle—
Only to freeze.
Acier, without breaking eye contact with their son, began unbuttoning her shirt.
"You'll get to drink from Mommy's boobies today," she cooed. "It's fresh and healthier. Isn't that exciting?"
Nozel certainly thought so.
Sebastian did not.
Without turning around, he started to walk away—
Until Acier's voice stopped him cold.
"And where are you going?"
Still facing away, he kept his voice steady.
"I'm giving you privacy. Call me back when you're done."
He took a step forward—
And stopped again.
Acier's voice turned sharp.
"You've seen my body countless times. Why are you acting shy and weird now?"
Because I'm trying to move on.
Sebastian clenched his jaw.
He inhaled, slowly.
Then, voice barely above a whisper—
"It's different now."
Acier heard him.
And her voice, quieter now, reached him effortlessly.
"What's different?"
His fists tightened.
Relaxed.
Tightened again.
And before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.
"Everything."
A pause.
Then, lower—
"We're… not the same as we were. It's not right."
Acier didn't flinch.
"Why?" she asked.
"We're still husband and wife. And as a doctor, you'll see countless naked bodies in the future—many belonging to women. Yet you can't even tolerate being in the same room as me while I breastfeed our son."
Sebastian gritted his teeth.
His voice darkened, heat rising despite himself.
"Stop playing dumb, Acier. You know why you're different."
He exhaled sharply, forcing down his frustration.
"I can't do this. I'm sorry. It's uncomfortable."
Silence.
Sebastian's breath came slower, heavier.
Then—
Softly—
"Isn't that what these little co-parent dates of ours are about?"
Sebastian's shoulders stiffened.
"No matter how uncomfortable it makes us," Acier continued, "once a week, we do everything together for Nozel."
"Bathe him."
"Change his diapers."
"Rock him to sleep."
"Play with him."
"And feed him."
Her voice remained even, unyielding.
"This only works if we do it together. If we just wait in opposite rooms, we might as well not do it at all. For one day a week, it's not supposed to be mother or father—"
Her gaze softened.
"It's supposed to be mother and father."
Sebastian swallowed.
"This was your idea," she reminded him. "Don't back out on me now."
"I am here. And I will continue to come, once a week, every week."
"I will give you everything I am, once a week, every week—"
"For Nozel's sake."
Her next words came quieter.
"But will you do the same?"
Sebastian's stomach twisted in self-loathing.
A hoarse whisper—
"What am I even supposed to do in this situation?"
Acier glanced at him, Nozel still nestled securely in her arms.
Then, gently—
"Just sit here."
Sebastian barely breathed.
"Next to me."
She paused.
"Even if Nozel isn't looking at you—"
Her voice softened to almost a whisper.
"Let him feel you."
"Your warmth."
"Your presence."
Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut.
Inhaled.
Exhaled.
And when he opened them again, his ocean-blue irises were clear.
Then, slowly—
He turned.
And looked at Acier.
And felt relief.
No stirring.
No pang of misplaced desire.
No shame.
Just a mother.
And her child.
And that was all he saw.
Sebastian stepped forward and sank onto the bed beside Acier, leaving barely an inch of space between them. His hand reached out, palm warm as it gently rubbed Nozel's back while the baby nursed.
Acier turned her head, meeting his gaze.
For a moment, Sebastian forgot to breathe.
Then, softly, she whispered, "Thank you."
Sebastian shook his head.
"This is just the bare minimum," he murmured. "Nozel deserves so much more."
Acier bit her lip.
That he does… but can we give it to him as we are now?
She didn't say it. But Sebastian seemed to hear her thoughts anyway.
"We'll figure something out," he mumbled, voice barely above a breath.
Acier stiffened as his hand moved up, fingers brushing through Nozel's soft hair.
"This arrangement of ours…" Sebastian continued, "it might not be fairytale-worthy, might not be romanticized, but it's ours. And we'll make it work. As long as we both give him all our love, as long as we get along as we do it, he'll be just as happy as any child out there."
Acier exhaled, the tension slipping from her shoulders. She smiled softly.
"Yeah, you're right. We'll make this work."
A pause.
"All for Nozel's sake."
"All for Nozel's sake," Sebastian echoed with a nod.
Their eyes stung.
A synchronized blink kept the tears at bay.
—
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
They played with Nozel.
Together.
Their smiles were broad—yet bittersweet—as their baby boy giggled between them.
From the moment Acier's pregnancy had been confirmed, they had both envisioned this scene.
Playing together. Laughing together.
As a family.
They never imagined it would happen like this.
Still, they did everything that dream once held.
They changed his diapers together.
Bathed him together—both carefully keeping their eyes from wandering.
Fed him together.
Sat with him in silence together, taking turns holding him.
They took him outside for fresh air, walking around Sebastian's hill, venturing briefly into the woods.
They looked like the perfect young, loving couple.
No one was there to say it aloud.
But they both knew it.
And it hurt even more.
Sebastian cooked Acier lunch and dinner.
They ate together, Nozel nestled between them.
They did the dishes together.
Acier helped with his laundry, justifying it as doing Nozel's laundry together.
Everything they used to do in this cottage, when they were lovers—
They did again.
Just without the love.
Only the love they shared for Nozel remained.
—
Then, night fell.
And it was time to sleep.
They lay beside each other on Sebastian's bed—
The same bed that was once theirs.
The bed where they had made love.
Where they had made Nozel.
Where so many beautiful memories had been created.
Now, Nozel lay on Sebastian's chest, tiny breaths puffing warmly against his father's skin.
Acier lay on her side, fingers threading lovingly through their son's hair.
Softly, she began to sing.
"Close your eyes, little star,
In the night, you've come so far,
With magic shining bright above,
Feel the warmth and all our love.
In the forests, shadows play,
Lemiel's light will guide the way,
Tetia's winds will softly sing,
Underneath the moon's sweet wing."
Sebastian kept his gaze forward, his expression unreadable.
But his heart pounded against his ribs.
It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
Nozel, stirring in and out of sleep, finally let his tiny eyes close for good, his lips curling into a content smile as he drifted into dreams upon his father's chest.
Acier leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
Nozel's sleepy smile widened.
Acier smiled, too—
Bright. Radiant.
The sight stirred something deep in Sebastian's chest, something he was desperately trying to smother.
He wondered—
What would it feel like for that hand running through Nozel's hair to run through his, as it once did?
Every day, he wished for it.
But he kept that thought to himself.
Acier slowly stood from the bed.
Sebastian looked at her softly.
"Leaving?" he whispered.
Acier nodded.
He didn't try to stop her. Didn't ask her to stay.
Just nodded in return.
"Goodnight, Acier Silva."
Acier gave him a shaky smile—not forced, not faked, just… emotional.
"Goodnight, Sebastian. See you next Sunday."
Sebastian nodded.
"See you next Sunday."
Her smile faltered, just slightly. He caught the way her shoulders sagged as she reached for the lamp, snuffing out its glow before turning toward the door.
She was almost through the doorway when—
Against his better judgment—
Sebastian spoke.
"Perhaps earlier than Sunday."
She didn't respond.
Yet through the darkness, he saw it—
The subtle shift of her posture.
The way her slightly hunched back seemed lighter.
The way her shoulders eased, no longer weighed down by the parting.
And then—she walked away.
—
Acier laced up her boots, stepping out of the home she had once built, side by side with Sebastian.
The cold night air stung.
Or maybe that was just her eyes.
She blinked, but the redness remained.
This was the best day she'd had since Sebastian made that decision.
One of the best, most memorable days of her life.
And that made it all the more bittersweet.
Sebastian couldn't see her face now.
But if he could—
He would understand.
His feelings, his yearning—
Were mutual.
Acier's lullaby hadn't been just for Nozel.
—
Author's Notes:
[1] I always thought those writers who romanticized about being infected by their writing were bugging. Boy was I wrong, this and the main story have been making me a bit emotional these days.
[2] Feel free to join the discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar