Good Dad, Good Mom (2)

"You're a good dad, you know," she said quietly, almost as if she were afraid to break the peaceful father and son moment.

August looked over at her, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. "Thanks," he said, his voice equally soft. "I just hope I'm doing right by him."

"You are," she assured him. "And you've got me to back you up whenever you need it. Like firing the secretaries."

August chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. "Yeah, I guess I do." After a while, he spoke up again like he just realized what Celine had said before. "I'm also a good Mom not only a Dad."

"Hahahaha," Celine laughed, though keeping it low.

As they pulled into the driveway of August's decent home, the familiar sight of the plain-in-white looking house brought a sense of calm over him.

This was exactly his son's kind of environment and he had also learnt from Reed to love it as well.

The day had been long, and the evening promised to be even longer, but at least he was home.. They were home. A place where he could unwind, where Reed could sleep safely, and where he could just… be.

"Alright," Celine said as she put the car in park. "You go do your thing. I'll get Little Candy to bed."

August nodded, carefully disentangling himself from his son's grasp. "Thanks. I won't be long."

"Take your time," she replied, smiling as she opened the door to retrieve Reed. "You deserve that hot tub more than anyone I know."

"Hahaha," he chuckled.

August stepped out of the car and watched as she carried Reed inside. His friend, Celine, was such a killer! With her figure, face and seductive smile she could get any man and she always made sure to stick to that - getting men on her bed.

Touche! He hadn't ever thought of himself on her bed before.

For a moment, taking everything out if his head, he just stood there, breathing in the evening air, feeling the whole activity of the day slowly slip away.

With a final glance at the retreating figures of Celine and son, August made his way into the house, already looking forward to the simple pleasure of a hot soak and a moment of peace.

August stepped into his room which was actually separate from the main house but through the same door. It was his sanctuary of stark, minimalist design which no one aside his son wasn't invited to enter, just yet.

The space was almost entirely white—white walls, white furniture, and even a sleek, modern gym set tucked into one corner, also white.

The brightness of the room was softened by the evening light filtering through sheer curtains, casting gentle shadows that made the space feel less like a hospital and more serene.

Despite the simplicity, everything was meticulously arranged like a neat freak's home, each piece of furniture precisely placed. August grew into a man needing order and a demand to control his space for be so.

The apartment itself was modest, nestled in the leafy branches of a quiet neighborhood. Barely anyone stayed around. It wasn't anything grand, just a simple place where he could raise his son in peace.

Celine, his friend, had found the place for him just two weeks ago. She'd insisted on it when she heard he was coming back to the country.

The thought of him and his son being without a home and staying in a hotel or something drove her into a protective frenzy.

Firstly, Reed couldn't just eat anything from anywhere and he needed a plain environment given his condition. Secondly, Celine felt it was better August stayed in a quiet, almost isolated area given his identity as intersex.

Celine was always like that, a "mama hen," as he often called her, fussing over him as if he couldn't manage on his own. Even though now he could.

August paused at the edge of his bed, a small smile playing on his lips as he thought back to the conversation they had when he first told her he was returning.

____

"You're really coming back?" she had asked, her voice tinged with worry.

"Yeah," he'd replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "I've got a job to do there and you know I and Reed need to be under intensive care. I need the money to afford our lives."

"Are you sure you're ready to be here in Country X? What about… you know, everything that happened four years ago?"

He had brushed off her concerns with a casual, "I'll be fine, Celine. It's been four years. I can handle it."

But he knew her well enough to understand that she wasn't just worried about him; she was worried about herself too. Coming back to the country meant confronting the ghosts of their past, the memories of things they had both tried to bury, her's included.

Still, she had reluctantly agreed, though not without making sure he had everything he needed, including this three roomed apartment.

___

Shaking off the memory, August glanced at the small collection of pictures on the dresser. There was one of Reed, smiling brightly, his eyes full of mischief and innocence.

Next to it was another photo, this one of the two of them together, taken by selfie, not long after they had moved in. The sight of it made his heart swell with a mix of pride and sorrow.

It had been just the two of them for four years now, and while he cherished every moment with his son, he couldn't help but feel the weight of the past pressing down on him at times.

Everything he looked at his own son, Reed, the memories played in his head. So, how could he not forget the past?! There was no way not to dwell on it.

"Hmmm," With a sigh, August began to undress, letting his clothes drop to the floor till he was stark naked. Then he slipped into a soft, white bathrobe.

He was just about to head to the bathroom when his phone buzzed on the bedside table.

He ignored it at first, but then it buzzed again—a double buzz.

August frowned. He hated leaving messages or emails unattended, especially when they came in rapid succession like this. It felt like an itch he couldn't scratch, something that needed to be dealt with immediately.

Reluctantly, he walked over to the bedside and picked up his phone to glance at the screen.

The notifications showed two messages. The first was an invitation, something formal by the looks of it. The second was a message, the kind that made him expectant like he was expecting a text from someone.

"Now, I have to reply to messages before I wash off my bloody self, huh?"