One of the teachings of the Millis Church was: "A man and a woman should love only each other, one at a time." Although I had run away from home, that doctrine they repeated to me since I was small, and which was the norm at school, remained deeply rooted in me. That's why, one day I told him: "If you don't touch any other woman, then you can sleep with me." He smiled and accepted.
I knew he was lying to me. But I thought I didn't care. If he cheated on me, then I could stop loving him. Back then I was also naive, reckless, and foolish. Because with that one time... I ended up pregnant.
I didn't know what to do. Anxiety invaded me.
It never occurred to me that Paul would take responsibility and marry me. And so the day of delivery arrived.
My children were born: Daiki and Rudeus Greyrat.
Twins.
I still remember that day with painful clarity.
The was long. Exhausting.
He was perfect. Small. Vulnerable. Mine.
But then I saw Paul's expression.
It wasn't that of a proud father. It was... distrust.
Because my baby had black hair. Black as night. And red eyes like rubies.
Features that neither Paul nor I had.
"Zenith." Paul's voice sounded controlled, but there was something cold in it. "Explain this to me. What is this?"
The words hit me like a physical slap.
I had just given birth. I was exhausted, in pain, vulnerable. I was holding our newborn son in my arms.
And the man I loved was looking at me as if I were a stranger.
"What do you want me to explain?" I whispered, feeling tears burning my eyes. "I just gave birth to our son... Aren't you happy?"
He pointed at the baby as if it were evidence of a crime.
I understood then. Paul thought I had cheated on him. That I had been with another man. That the baby wasn't his.
The pain in my chest was so intense I could barely breathe.
And then Lilia screamed.
The second was faster.
Because this baby had light brown hair. Bright green eyes.
Exactly like Paul.
I saw how my husband's expression changed from shock to comprehension to absolute horror.
"Twins," he whispered. "They're... they're twins."
He looked at the baby in his arms. Then at the one I was holding.
And then he collapsed to his knees.
"Zenith... I... forgive me. I should never have doubted you. I should never have..."
But the damage was done.
The words couldn't be taken back. The distrust couldn't be erased.
For months afterward, every time I looked at Daiki, I remembered that expression on Paul's face.
The doubt. The accusation.
And it hurt.
But with time, that pain transformed into something else.
Into determination.
Because Daiki was my son. My baby. And if Paul had doubted me because of his appearance, then I would love him twice as much to compensate.
My two sons. So different. So precious.
Rudeus, expressive and curious from the beginning. Daiki, calm and observant.
Rudeus constantly sought my attention. Daiki accepted it when I gave it, but never asked for it.
Rudeus smiled easily. Daiki... Daiki took months to smile for the first time.
And when he did, I cried.
Because that smile was worth every moment of pain. Every doubt that Paul had planted. Every strange look from the neighbors when they saw his black hair.
My son. My precious dark-haired, red-eyed son.
He was perfect.
Now, years later, I watched my two oldest sons caring for their younger sisters.
Rudeus was making funny faces at Norn, sticking out his tongue and making ridiculous sounds to make her laugh.
"Bero-bero-baa!"
"Kya, kya, baa, baa!"
Norn laughed delightedly.
And Daiki...
Daiki was sitting next to Aisha's crib with a book in one hand. But he wasn't reading it. He was holding it in such a way that the illustrations were visible to the baby.
"This is a rabbit," he said with his calm voice, pointing at the image. "They're soft. They jump a lot."
"Aa!" Aisha babbled, reaching for the page with her little hands.
"Exactly. Rabbit."
He wasn't making funny faces like Rudeus. He wasn't using silly voices.
But Aisha was completely absorbed, looking at him with those big eyes full of absolute adoration.
Because that was the difference between my sons.
Rudeus entertained with energy and expression.
Daiki calmed with presence and patience.
Both styles worked. Both were necessary.
"Ufufu..."
I couldn't help but let out a giggle seeing the scene.
Rudeus turned around, smiling.
"Mother? What's so funny?"
"Nothing, dear. Just... you two are so good with your sisters."
"Of course." Rudeus straightened up with obvious pride. "We're going to be the best older brothers."
Daiki said nothing, but I saw how his lips curved slightly. That small smile he reserved for genuine moments.
My four children. So different. So perfect.
"Fuu..."
I let out a sigh, remembering when they were small. When I discovered that Rudeus had talent for magic, I was filled with joy. And when I saw Daiki execute his first sword movement with impossible perfection for his age, I knew he was special too.
But over time, I began to suspect something that terrified me.
That maybe, deep down, they didn't feel true affection for their family. Rudeus never showed himself affectionate with me. Daiki was polite but distant.
As if... as if they were here but not really present.
But those doubts changed during that scandal with Lilia's pregnancy.
When Paul confessed. When I felt betrayed. When I was about to destroy this family in my anger.
It was my sons who stopped me.
Rudeus, with his careful words, trying to pacify the situation.
And Daiki...
Daiki with that cold but devastatingly effective analysis. Those brutal statistics about survival probabilities. That relentless logic that forced me to see beyond my pain.
And then, that offer.
"If you still decide to expel her... then I'll go with her."
A six-year-old child willing to abandon everything to protect an unborn baby.
My son. My precious son who I thought didn't feel family affection.
Was willing to leave us. To leave his home. His comfort. Everything.
For a principle. For doing what was right.
I cried that night. I cried because I had been so blind.
Daiki DID love his family. He just... showed it differently.
Not with hugs or sweet words.
But with actions. With sacrifice. With unwavering determination to protect what was his.
"Uu... aa!"
My thoughts were interrupted when Aisha began to complain. Daiki put down the book immediately, assessing the situation with that characteristic efficiency.
He checked her diaper. Dry. Touched her forehead. Normal temperature. Observed the time on the sundial visible through the window.
"Mother." He looked at me. "It's time to feed her."
Always so precise. So observant.
"Yes, you're right, dear."
Meanwhile, Rudeus had noticed that Norn was also beginning to complain.
"Oh! I think Norn is hungry too."
"Come here, Rudy. Bring Norn."
"Yes!"
I sat in the chair. Rudeus brought me Norn, while Daiki approached with Aisha.
I uncovered my left breast first, bringing Norn close. She latched on immediately, drinking with pleasure.
And then I noticed Rudeus's gaze.
He was staring fixedly at my breast. With that greedy, perverted expression that didn't seem like that of a seven-year-old child.
‹Definitely Paul's son.› I thought with amusement.
"What's wrong, Rudy? Do you want some too?"
"Eh?!"
Rudeus made an expression of surprise and looked away, blushing.
"No, it's nothing. I was just watching how well she drinks."
"Ufufu. No, you can't, this is for Norn. Rudy already had plenty when he was little, so hold on."
"...Of course, Mother."
I looked at Daiki, expecting to see... something similar perhaps.
But my oldest son was looking out the window with a completely neutral expression. Deliberately giving me privacy.
Always so considerate. So mature for his age.
Maybe too much.
"Daiki." I called him softly.
He turned.
"Yes, Mother?"
"Can you bring me Aisha too? Lilia will be late today."
I saw something cross his face. Surprise. Then... relief?
"Are you sure?"
The question hurt me. Because I understood what it implied.
Daiki knew about my beliefs. About my Millis teachings. About my internal struggle with accepting Lilia's situation.
And he was asking if I really could, if I really wanted to feed the "other woman's" daughter.
"Of course I'm sure," I said firmly. "Aisha is your sister. She's my daughter. Bring her to me."
Something in his expression softened. That barrier he always maintained lowered just a bit.
"Understood."
He brought me Aisha carefully. I took her in my free arm, uncovering my other breast.
Aisha latched on without hesitation, drinking as eagerly as Norn.
And I felt... peace.
Because I was right. They were my daughters. Both of them. Regardless of the circumstances of their birth.
"Look how she drinks with pleasure," I commented.
"Mother's is delicious," Rudeus said with that mischievous smile.
"You don't need to flatter me like that."
"It's not a compliment. I remember it well, I still have its taste present."
I let out a giggle.
But I noticed that Daiki was still observing us. Not with Rudeus's lascivious gaze.
With something deeper.
As if something that had worried him deeply had finally been resolved.
‹Ah.›
I understood then.
‹He was afraid I would reject Aisha.›
My son, who offered cold statistics and relentless logic, who offered to abandon home for a principle...
Was worried about his baby sister. About how her mother would treat her.
My heart squeezed painfully.
"Daiki." I called him.
He approached.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For worrying. For protecting your sisters. For... for being you."
I saw how he blinked, clearly not expecting that.
"I... didn't do anything special."
"You did everything," I corrected gently. "You always do. Just in your own way."
He stayed silent, processing.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
"You're welcome, Mother."
Three simple words. But coming from Daiki, who measured every word carefully...
They meant the world.
After both babies finished feeding and I had put them back in their cribs, I sat back in the chair.
Rudeus and Daiki were nearby, watching their sisters sleep.
"Hey, Rudy." I called my younger son.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Can I pat your head?"
"...You don't need permission. You can do it whenever you want."
Rudeus sat beside me and offered his head. I stroked it gently.
Then I looked at Daiki.
"You too, dear."
Daiki blinked, surprised.
"Me too?"
"Of course. Come here."
I saw the hesitation on his face. That moment of doubt.
As if he wasn't sure he deserved physical affection.
‹My poor baby.›
I thought.
‹What made you feel this way?›
Finally he approached, sitting on the other side. More rigid than Rudeus. Less accustomed to this.
I put my other hand on his black hair.
And I felt how he tensed. Then, slowly, relaxed.
There we were. The three of us. In comfortable silence.
Through the window came the soft light of a spring day. Beyond stretched golden fields of wheat. A serene and peaceful afternoon.
"I wish these moments would last forever," I sighed.
"That's right," Rudeus responded.
Daiki said nothing. But I felt how he leaned into my hand.
Accepting the affection he rarely sought but clearly needed.
"Rudy. Daiki."
"Yes?"
Both responded in unison.
"Thank you for being born. Both of you."
Rudeus blushed, scratching his head.
"On the contrary... thank you very much."
Daiki didn't respond immediately. But then, so low I almost didn't hear him:
"Thank you for accepting me. Despite... everything."
My heart broke a little.
Because I understood what he meant.
Despite his different hair. His strange eyes. How he had caused Paul to doubt me.
My seven-year-old son still carried that guilt.
"Daiki. Look at me."
He raised those red eyes toward me.
"There's nothing to 'accept.' You're my son. From the moment you were born. From the first second I saw you. Your hair doesn't matter. Your eyes don't matter. Nothing matters except that you're mine."
"Mother..."
"And I'm sorry... I'm sorry that you ever felt different. That Paul's doubts made you feel like you didn't belong."
"It's not your fault."
"But I should have made it clear before. I should have told you every day that you were perfect exactly as you are."
Daiki was looking at me with a more vulnerable expression than I had ever seen him have.
"I am now. You've shown me. Every day."
"Then let me say it one more time." I hugged him, pulling him against me along with Rudeus. "You're perfect. You both are. My two oldest sons. So different. So precious. So loved."
Rudeus was already crying. Daiki... Daiki was trembling slightly. Finally crying.
"I love you," I whispered. "Both of you. Always."
"We love you too, Mother," Rudeus sobbed.
Daiki said nothing. But his arms wrapped around me tightly.
And that was enough.
Because my black-haired, red-eyed son, who measured every word and action carefully, who rarely showed affection openly...
Was hugging me as if his life depended on it.
Like the small child he was underneath all that maturity.
My baby.
My precious, perfect baby.