Chapter 41
JIYA
“Look who I found.”
I looked up from the kitchen counter when I heard Cole’s voice coming through the front door one Friday evening after he had wrapped up work for the Christmas holidays. There was a brightness in his tone that immediately caught my attention.
When I stepped into the living room, I saw him standing there with the most mischievous smile on his face, holding a small beagle in his arms.
The little dog looked up at us with wide, curious eyes.
An abandoned beagle.
Lucas gasped first. “Whoa!”
He ran toward Cole immediately as he crouched down to pet the dog. Emma toddled over beside him, her tiny hands clapping together as she giggled happily.
Oreo rushed over too, sniffing the newcomer carefully, his tail wagging as if he had just discovered a new best friend.
“What do you think we should name it, guys?” Cole asked, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on my cheek.
I smiled at him, amused and touched by the way he had brought the dog home.
Emma, now twenty-one months old, stood there looking at the dog with serious concentration. Then she pointed. “Dada… Milo!”
Everything in the room stopped.
Lucas froze.
Oreo paused mid-wag.
Even Cole blinked in surprise.
My breath caught in my throat as my daughter’s words echoed in the room.
Dada.
Emma had just called Cole Dada for the very first time.
My insides twisted.
I looked at her before slowly lifting my gaze to Cole.
His mouth had fallen open. He looked completely stunned. Then his expression exploded into pure joy. His smile grew so wide it seemed like it might split his face. He let out a loud whoop and scooped Emma into his arms, swinging her around as she laughed.
“Say it again, Emma! Say it again!” he shouted excitedly.
“Milo,” she said proudly.
Cole burst out laughing.
“Not Milo,” he said, still holding her. “What did you say before that?”
“Dada,” she replied, giggling.
Tears instantly filled my eyes.
“Again, Emma,” Cole said, his voice bright with delight.
“Dada! Dada! Dada!” she squealed happily.
Then Lucas spoke softly from beside us.
“Can I call you that too?” he asked quietly. “I would like to call you Dad.”
The vulnerability in his voice made my heart ache.
Cole immediately set Emma down on the floor and knelt in front of Lucas. He held Lucas gently by the shoulders and looked straight into his eyes.
“Buddy,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ve been waiting for you to call me that.”
Lucas burst into tears.
Before I could even move, Cole pulled him into his arms and held him tightly. I saw Cole’s own eyes glisten as he hugged him.
I turned toward Geeta.
She stood near the doorway, her eyes shining with tears.
My own emotions finally overflowed. I picked Emma up into my arms and stepped toward them, wrapping my arms around both Cole and Lucas. Geeta joined us, and the five of us were tangled together in a tight group hug filled with laughter, tears, and overwhelming love.
“Milo seems like the perfect name,” Cole said after a moment, glancing at me.
“Perfect,” I said, smiling. “I think it’s just perfect.”
Later that night, I stood quietly near the doorway, watching Cole and the children.
Lucas laughed as Milo chased a toy across the floor, while Emma clapped excitedly beside them. Cole lay stretched out on the carpet, pretending to bark back at the dog as the children squealed with delight.
I smiled as I watched them.
And then something struck me so hard it felt like being hit by a speeding bus.
I had seen this before—not this exact moment, but something eerily similar.
My mind raced back to the hospital years earlier, when I had been fighting for my life during my heart surgery. In that strange state between consciousness and darkness, I had seen faces.
A man’s face.
Cole’s face—exactly the way he looked right now.
My gaze shifted slowly to Emma, and my heart skipped again.
I had seen her face too, long before she had been born—before she had even existed.
The memory flickered through my mind like fragments of a dream: a funeral… and a wedding.
Had those been signs too? Signs of what? Could the funeral have been Patty’s funeral?
I tried to recall the details of the vision, but the memory remained blurred and distant. And the wedding—was it mine, or was it my children’s? The questions swirled through my mind, but the answers refused to surface.
Finally, I shook the thoughts away.
Tonight was not a night for questions.
It was a night for happiness, for love, and for family.
Smiling, I walked over and sat down on the floor beside them, joining Cole and the children as Oreo and the newest member of our family, Milo, bounced happily between us.
The holidays that year were filled with love and family, and as the year slowly drew to a close, I found myself walking through those days in unusually high spirits.
Every morning when I woke up beside Cole and every evening when I watched the children laughing with him in the living room, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude.
I had so much to be thankful for.
The year had brought me a life I had once been too afraid to hope for.
Liam’s family came over for Christmas, filling the house with cheerful noise and the chaotic energy that always seemed to follow large family gatherings.
Jack and Maureen joined us as well, and by the time evening arrived, every corner of the house was alive with laughter, the smell of food, and the constant rustle of wrapping paper.
Lucas tore into his presents with excitement while Emma clapped and squeaked happily every time someone opened another gift.
Cole sat on the floor with them, helping Emma unwrap one toy after another while Milo and Oreo ran excitedly through the room as if they were just as involved in the celebration as the rest of us.
We sang Christmas carols together, our voices blending imperfectly but joyfully as the lights of the Christmas tree flickered in the background. The children eventually grew sleepy, and we bundled them into coats before heading to church together to celebrate the birth of Christ.
The holidays no longer reminded me of loss.
They reminded me of hope.
New Year’s was celebrated at Liam’s house that year. The evening stretched long into the night with music, food, and stories shared around the table. Eventually, the children fell asleep, and rather than wake them to drive home, we all stayed overnight.
The next morning, the house stirred slowly back to life.
I was standing in the kitchen pouring coffee when I heard Liam’s voice from the living room.
“Have you lost weight?” he asked Cole.
I paused immediately, my attention sharpening. I stepped into the room and looked at Cole carefully.
“He has, hasn’t he?” I said, my brows furrowing as I studied him more closely. “I thought it was just me.”
Cole shrugged casually.
“Just a little bit,” he said with a light smile. “Maybe it’s the new workout that I am trying at the gym.”
Liam laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t disappear on us there, brother.”
They both chuckled, but the uneasy feeling inside my chest refused to fade.
I had noticed the changes.
The slight weight loss.
The way his appetite had decreased.
The occasional tenderness in his stomach… the vomiting.
He had thrown up several times over the past few weeks, and every time, he dismissed it as something minor.
Something about it did not sit right with me.
I decided I would start packing lunches for him, making sure he only ate home-cooked meals. If something outside had upset his stomach, then at least I could control that part.
Several times, I had tried to convince him to see a doctor, and each time, he brushed the idea aside.
“I hate hospitals and doctors,” he had said with a dramatic grimace.
“I hate them.” He leaned back in his chair and waved a hand dismissively.
Who liked them? “They bring nothing but bad news. I prefer home remedies instead.” He had smiled then, trying to lighten the mood.
“They work much better than pills and syrups. Don’t you think? ”
At the time, I had laughed and nodded, not wanting to start an argument. But now, as I stood watching him across the room, laughing with Liam, the smile on my face barely masked the tightening knot of worry inside me.
And the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach refused to be ignored any longer.
As I watched him, I made a decision.
One way or another…
I was going to take him to the doctor.