SHADOWLESS LOVE

Bubu's room was nestled right next to mine, a space so warm and inviting that it felt like a dream come true for any child. Soft, golden lights bathed the room, highlighting the delicate murals of stars and clouds painted on the walls. Plush rugs spread across the floor, matching the warm hues of the curtains that swayed gently in the night breeze. His bed, adorned with a mountain of fluffy pillows and a quilt stitched with childlike patterns of animals and spaceships, carried the innocence of his little world. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, calming and soothing, like a lullaby whispered in the dark.

As I stood by his bedside, watching his chest rise and fall with each peaceful breath, guilt tugged at my heart. This room, so much brighter and more luxurious than the one I had provided for him in that small village, felt like a reminder of how much he deserved—how much I wanted to give him. His angelic face, serene in sleep, made me feel unworthy. I brushed a hand against his soft, chubby cheek, marveling at the miracle he was in my life.

Bubu had saved me in more ways than I could count. At my lowest, when I left the chaos and bloodstained underworld behind, he came into my life like a beam of light, chasing away the darkness. Stroking his cheek, I couldn't help but think, Without him, would I even know what it meant to be human again?

"Nggh… Papa…" His soft, half-awake voice broke through my thoughts. His eyes fluttered open, and despite the haze of sleep, he gifted me the brightest smile. "You're back before sunrise," he mumbled, his words laced with sleepy joy.

I leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I promised you, didn't I? I'll always be back before sunrise."

With a small tug, he pulled my arm closer, nestling his head against it. His warmth seeped into me, melting away every ounce of tension and worry I carried. Without a second thought, I climbed into bed beside him, the unfamiliar stiffness of my unchanging clothes a small price to pay for this moment. I wrapped my arm around him as he drifted back to sleep, his soft breaths syncing with mine.

"Papa…" Bubu's voice broke through again, still heavy with sleep.

"Yes, Bubu?"

"Grandpa said I'll have a new mummy."

My heart tensed at his words. My father… That man had no sense of timing, always throwing his opinions into the air like fireworks. But it was a topic Bubu had to hear about eventually.

"Yes," I admitted softly, brushing my hand across his back. "I'll be marrying someone soon."

He snuggled closer, his tiny hands clutching my shirt. "So, she'll be my new mummy?" His voice was thoughtful, as if he were weighing the idea in his mind.

"If you don't want to call her that, no one will force you, Bubu," I said firmly. To me, it was always his choice—his comfort came first.

"What if I hate her?" he asked, his tone so earnest it made me smile.

"As long as you remember what I've taught you, you're free to feel however you want."

He lifted his head, his hazel eyes gleaming with innocent curiosity. "What if I love her?"

His question caught me off guard, and I narrowed my eyes at him, half teasing. "Aren't you being too optimistic about my second marriage? You know she's not your real mummy."

He nodded, his little fingers playing with my shirt button. Whatever was brewing in that sharp little mind of his, I couldn't quite tell.

"Jolly says having two papas and two mamas is better than one," he said with a grin. "If Mama and Papa don't love each other and they find new people, then I get two big families, right?"

His pure, benevolent perspective left me speechless. Jolly, the precocious boy from the village, had clearly shared this idea with him. Jolly's father, Damian Eden, was a man whose story I knew all too well—a man left to raise his son alone after being abandoned.

"Jolly doesn't have two mamas and papas," I said gently.

Bubu's face fell slightly. "He says that to make himself feel better," he admitted after a pause, his voice quieter now. "His mama left, but he says he's okay because maybe one day he'll have two families."

I pulled Bubu close, his small body warm against mine. His words echoed with a wisdom beyond his years, a bittersweet understanding that no child should have to learn.

"Bubu," I said softly, "even if you don't have two families, always remember this: Mama and Papa love you more than anything in the world. Nothing will ever change that."

He giggled, the sound sweet and light, and nodded against my chest. In that moment, as his laughter filled the room, I knew I was doing something right.

Years ago, when I found out I was going to be a father, I made a vow to myself: No matter what, my child will never feel unloved or unwanted.

Bubu wouldn't grow up with the emptiness I felt as a boy. He wouldn't bear the scars of neglect or abandonment. With every breath I took, I would make sure of it. Holding him close, I whispered, "I'll never let you feel alone, Bubu. Never."

And as he drifted back to sleep, I closed my eyes, letting his soft breaths carry me into a peaceful sleep. Maybe sleeping with my little child in my arms is solely the one thing that kept me going.

I don't know what tomorrow holds for us, but I wish you felt it today, my child.

I am here, and I will always be there for you.