Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 169: A father

Chapter 169: A father

As the first light of dawn filters through the room, I find myself with my arms wrapped around Noelle. The golden hues of morning paint the walls in soft, muted tones, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, my heart is at peace.

After Noelle calmed down, he spent hours talking about her—our daughter. My daughter. Mirelle.

The thought of her name alone stirs something deep within me, something I never expected to feel. I’ve always known love in one form—Noelle is my star, my universe, the axis upon which my world turns. But Mirelle... Mirelle is different. She is a part of him, a part of us. Somehow, this tiny person has expanded the boundaries of my heart in ways I never thought possible. I never imagined I could love anyone as much as I do Noelle, yet here I am. I was wrong.

I would give that little thing the world.

The memory of holding her for the first time yesterday is still fresh in my mind. She’s so small, so fragile. I can’t believe she was even smaller once. In just a few months, she’ll be one year old. A year of her life, and I wasn’t there. My heart tightens painfully at the thought. I missed it all—the pregnancy, the first precious weeks of her life. The knowledge that I wasn’t there when they both needed me most, that I nearly lost them both when she was born... It’s a weight that I know will haunt me for years to come.

Beside me, Noelle stirs slightly before settling again. The sound of his soft snores fills the room, steady and rhythmic. I glance down at him, his face finally at peace after a night of raw emotions and tears. He’s so beautiful, even in sleep. The faint shadows under his eyes and the lines of exhaustion etched into his features only make me love him more.

"My beloved star," I whisper softly, the words barely audible in the quiet room. He doesn’t respond, too deeply lost in the rest he so desperately needs.

For a few more moments, I stay there, holding him close, unwilling to let go. But I know he needs this sleep—both mentally and physically. Truthfully, I do too, but my mind is too restless. Thoughts churn endlessly, keeping me tethered to consciousness.

Carefully, I shift my arms and slide out of bed, making sure not to disturb him. I tuck the blankets snugly around him, pausing for a moment to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. The sight of him like this, peaceful and safe, fills me with a bittersweet ache.

I quietly close the door behind me and head down the hall toward where Ben and Mona are. My footsteps echo faintly in the silence of the estate, the morning stillness wrapping around me like a shroud.

My thoughts stray back to Noelle, to Mirelle, to the life we’re building despite everything that’s tried to tear us apart. I don’t know what the future holds, but one thing is certain: I will never let anything threaten them again.

I enter the room softly, my senses sharp as I scan the space. Roman is slouched in a nearby chair, his head tilted back, his arms crossed over his chest. The lines of exhaustion are clear on his face, and as soon as he registers it’s me, he visibly relaxes and lets sleep claim him again. I don’t wake him. He’s earned it. I may have pushed them too hard these past weeks, hell years,expecting them to be unyielding like I am.

But even steel needs to rest. It’s time to let them have that.

I walk further in, my steps light but steady. My eyes glance at the crib in the corner, drawn to the soft glow emanating from within. For a moment, my mind drifts—to Victor, my old comrade. I wonder briefly how he’s doing, if his life has settled into the quiet peace we once fought for. But then again... does it really matter? I honestly don’t care.

As I approach the crib, expecting to find her asleep, I’m surprised to see a pair of bright, curious eyes staring back at me. She’s awake.

The little princess. My daughter.

Her lips move, forming incoherent baby babble that sounds more like a melody than words. Her tiny hands reach up, fingers spread wide in an unmistakable plea to be held. She wants me.

And I... I don’t know how to describe what I feel. It’s overwhelming. This small, fragile creature, so full of life, looking at me as though I am her entire world. How can anyone be prepared for this? My chest tightens, and for a moment, I’m frozen, caught between awe and uncertainty.

"Okay, okay," I murmur, my voice soft and hoarse with emotion. I reach down and gently scoop her into my arms.

Her little body fits perfectly against me, warm and so impossibly small. She wriggles slightly, settling into the crook of my arm with a contented sigh. One of her tiny hands fists into the fabric of my shirt while the other pats my chest, her movements uncoordinated but full of trust.

She babbles again, a string of nonsensical sounds punctuated by the occasional squeal. Her big blue eyes, so eerily familiar, lock onto mine, and I can’t help but smile. I’ve faced down armies, stood on battlefields soaked in blood, and yet this—this moment feels more significant than all of it.

"Are you always this demanding, Mimi?" I tease softly, the nickname slipping out naturally. She lets out a high-pitched giggle, her entire face lighting up.

Her laughter is infectious, breaking through the lingering shadows in my heart. I sway slightly, rocking her back and forth in my arms, and she rests her head against my chest, her tiny hand still clutching my shirt.

For the first time, I let myself believe it. I’m her father. She’s my daughter.

And I would give everything I am to protect her.

I let myself quietly walk out of the room, holding my daughter close to my chest. My daughter. The words echo in my mind, each repetition like a soft hammer, chiseling away at the disbelief still lingering in my heart. I hold her a little tighter, her warmth seeping into me, grounding me in this reality.

She’s so small. So impossibly small. It’s startling to think something this fragile, this pure, could exist in my world of chaos and bloodshed. Yet here she is, nestled in my arms, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt as if letting go isn’t an option.

My steps are careful, my body tense—not from fear of danger, but from the overwhelming responsibility I feel with every breath. My mind races. Does she know me? Can she sense who I am to her? I thought she would be afraid, that my presence would somehow unsettle her, but she seems calm. Trusting.

She babbles softly, a string of incomprehensible sounds that are more music than words. I glance down at her, and her bright eyes meet mine. There’s no fear there. Only curiosity. It’s almost as if... as if she recognizes me.

"Do you know me?" I whisper, my voice barely audible. She doesn’t answer, of course, but she coos softly and pats my chest with her tiny hand, her uncoordinated movements clumsy yet deliberate.

The action is simple, but it hits me hard. Does she know? Could it be instinct, or is there something deeper—something primal—connecting us? My heart feels too big for my chest as I watch her, completely captivated by this small being who is somehow both a stranger and the most important person in my life.

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