Good night

Alexandre realized it was getting late. The sun had already set during the serial marathon with his little son.

Adrien had snuggled up by his side sleeping quietly, hidden under his arm. He felt the gentle warmth of the toddler, heard the boy's steady breathing. This familiarity. He would have never thought he would ever have a family like this, he would have never dreamed to care for a child.

He chuckled, grabbed the remote control and turned off the TV while the credits rolled down the screen. He gazed to the side and sat up with caution. Carefully he held Addy leaned against his chest so that he could get up with Addy in his arms. He wanted to bring Adrien to bed, but was interrupted by a tiny whimper.

"Mm-mmm. No." Did the little boy whimper.

Alexandre smiled gently, stroking the dark hair tenderly. "Addy, you're tired. It's already bedtime."

"But I don't wanna..." Adrien tried to hold back a yawn. "...not sleepy yet..." Drowsily, Addy rubbed his eyes. His voice carried a faint hint of protest.

Smiling, he whispered into Adrien's ear. "I believe you are..."

"No!" The little one stopped him firmly and cuddled himself beside Alexandre's lap. Soothingly, Alec pulled the blanket back over the tiny body of the kid and pressed play. Before he fast-forwarded further and started a new episode. Alec stroked the child's soft hair as he rested his small head on Alexandre's lap and kept watching.

Addy's eyes got heavier and heavier. Nevertheless, he forced himself stubbornly to stay awake while bright colors flashed inside the television.

It didn't take long, until Alexandre could hear the toddler's steady breathing once again. His chest rose and fell to the pace of his calm breathing. Addy was sound asleep again.

✿

Silence fell over Paradise Garden. The wind blew chillingly over her face. She pulled the velvety scarf tighter around her neck, buried the straight tip of her nose inside the soft fabric. The leaves were rustling eerily. Night had long ago fallen, changed the magnificent garden into a gloomy place. Only the yellowish light of the street lamps illuminated the cobblestone path to a coffee house in the distance.

With hurried steps the last people left the garden as if they were fleeing, pushed by the wind that blew coldly through bushes and trees.

But she did not let herself be pushed. She strolled leisurely along the narrow path, saw the old coffee house, which was gracefully built in the shape of a round pavilion. The warm lights were still burning behind the colored glass windows.

It was already 10 o'clock at night. Not an hour in which young ladies were supposed to walk around alone.

Melinda calmly opened the glass door to the coffee house. Two clear bells chimed, announcing her coming. There were only a few guests left in the house, gentlemen who were philosophising about politics, economy and art. No ladies. A strange scene. But old Europe was stuck in its traditions. Innovation had a hard time in the monarchistic states. The powerful men did not like to share their might.

She had spent most of her life in America. As a diplomat's daughter, Melinda had seen many countries in her youth. But in America, she had learned to live. She felt at home there. She was always drawn back to the new world. There she found freedom and rights that did not exist in her home country France.

Nevertheless, she had returned to Europe. Love called her home.