chapter2073

Minutes later, they emerged, Cecilia and Nathaniel each carrying a child whose face was now hidden behind bright plastic. Their small breaths fogged the inside of the masks, turning them into mysterious little figures.

Elliot's voice seeped through the pig snout, forlorn. "Jon, why do I have to wear a mask too?"

Jonathan adjusted the elastic at the back of his own monkey mask. "Less chatter. With these on, no one will recognize us. You've got a mountain of online fans. Do you want them lining up for autographs right now?" Even the thought made his shoulders tense.

The image apparently delighted Elliot. His lips curved beneath the plastic, dimpling the cheeks no one could see.

"Actually, that sounds awesome," he said, the words accompanied by an audible grin.

Jonathan let silence answer.

The brothers clearly lived on different planets.

"Mask on, questions off," Jonathan ordered, voice muffled but iron-firm.

Elliot released a long, dramatic sigh, then ventured, "Fine, but why do you get the monkey mask while I'm stuck with the pig?"

"Because the monkey is the elder disciple and the pig is the junior," Jonathan explained patiently. "I'm the older brother, and you're the younger. That's simple hierarchy. Got it?"

"Oh." A tiny sound of belated understanding.

Left with no further argument, Elliot slumped in resigned silence. For original chapters go to f?i?n?d?n?o?v?e?l?.net

A few steps behind, Cecilia and Nathaniel exchanged amused glances, the muted bickering of their sons drawing quiet laughter from their throats.

Sure enough, once the masks were on, the crowd's attention drifted elsewhere like dust in a changing breeze.

Nathaniel's eyes, however-cool, focused, framed by a stature made for designer suits-still earned him more than a few intrigued side glances from passing

women.

Cecilia, intent on her children, remained blissfully unaware of every admiring look that followed her husband.

Jonathan noticed that and said, "Mommy, I'm tired." His voice, faint behind the monkey mask, carried the first hint of fatigue.

"Oh? Then let me carry you," Cecilia answered at once, arms already opening to gather him close.

Jonathan had always been the warm heart of the household. He was sensible to a fault and never the sort of child to fake fatigue. Seeing the slump in his shoulders tonight, Cecilia guessed he must have slept poorly.

He shook his tiny head. "Daddy, could you carry me?" he asked, voice soft yet threaded with real weariness.

Nathaniel did not hesitate. In one fluid motion, he swept Jonathan into his arms, settling the boy against his chest as though that space had been carved for him alone.

Elliot stared, confusion flickering across his round face. He felt nowhere near tired, yet why did his brother look ready to drop? Choosing not to voice the question, he simply laced his fingers through Cecilia's and trotted along in silence.

The moment Nathaniel hoisted a child onto his hip, the admiring glances from

nearby women thinned, as if parenthood formed an invisible shield.

Nothing dims casual attraction faster than the unmistakable aura of a dad on duty.

They rode the escalator to the

fifth-floor fashion wing, the polished tiles reflecting bright ceiling lights ( like a shallow lake. The moment

their feet touched marble, Cecilia

zeroed on the children's racks and in began hunting for outfits. s

With their naturally straight backs and coltish limbs, Jonathan and

Elljotresembled pin size det

runway

models. Any fabric draped over them instantly looked tailor-made. s

A clerk bustled over, eyes shining. "Ma'am, sir, your boys have textbook proportions Honestly, these clothes hang better on them than on our catalogue models." The praise rolled out like silk. s

Compliments, after all, are music few parents bother resisting.

Unapologetic, Cecilia pointed to each selected garment and said, "Wrap every last piece, please." Gift boxes began piling behind the register like colorful bricks.

Nathaniel produced his black card and settled the bill without a blink, digits flashing across the screen before disappearing into approved green.

Store to store they went, Cecilia sweeping hangers as though racing a clock, her arms forever full.

She remembered the two younger boys at home as well, ordering another mountain of tiny jackets and pajamas for Luke and Gabe.

Nathaniel watched the spree play out, then sank onto a leather bench in the lounge corner, exhaustion seeping into his shoulders.

"They already own more clothes than calendar days," he murmured, half plea, half observation.

Truth be told, Cecilia had amassed enough outfits for four children to cycle fresh looks every single day without a repeat.

Moreover, Elena's earlier shopping deliveries had turned the nursery closet into a private boutique all its own.

"All right, enough," Cecilia conceded, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her

ear.

Nathaniel glanced up. "And what about something for you?"

"Let's skip mine. My feet are done for," she said, rolling one ankle with a wince.

His brow creased. "So we're leaving empty-handed otherwise?”

"Yes. We'll grab dinner here, then head home," Cecilia decided.

A faint shadow crossed Nathaniel's eyes at her words. A ripple of disappointment flashed in his eyes.

He had secretly imagined her picking out a crisp shirt or maybe a tie for him, only to realize tonight's haul was strictly kids-only.

The unspoken letdown dulled his appetite. During dinner, he pushed food around his plate and swallowed little.

Elliot patted his full belly and looked up. "Mommy, I need the restroom," he announced.