QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)

Chapter 418:

Daphne

I cannot believe I am a parent.

Me.

I do not even know if I am doing a good job. I am so scared of making a mistake. I do not know what makes a good parent—what combination of love and discipline, freedom and guidance, presence and space.

I just hope that if I am making mistakes, they will not be so bad.

I never thought I would ever love someone else as much as I love my wife. But I guess I was wrong.

Alira coos in my arms.

I pat her back gently and rhythmically as I walk along the beach. The sand is warm beneath my bare feet. The waves kiss the shore. The sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and gold.

Lorelei is out for a swim. I see her tail in the distance—a flash of dark blue against the deep water.

I keep walking.

I see a seashell sparkling in the wet sand. I pick it up—a force of habit. I have spent so much time with Lorelei that I have absorbed her mannerisms. She never lets a seashell go unattended. Now, neither do I.

I am so happy it scares me.

I walk toward the ocean. The water laps at my ankles, my knees, my waist. Alira kicks her tiny legs, splashing at the surface.

I feel something brush against my legs.

Emerging from the water is Lorelei—her head bobbing above the waves, her dark hair slick against her face, her blue eyes bright.

In a few moments, she transforms. Her tail shifts into legs. Her gills fade. She rises from the water, standing in front of me, naked and dripping and beautiful.

"I was not finished," she says.

"Forgive me." I shift Alira to my hip. "I missed you."

Lorelei’s lips twitch.

"This is why she does not sleep when the sun sets." Lorelei motions to Alira, who is fast asleep in my arms, her tiny mouth slightly open, one small fist pressed against her cheek.

"It is not my fault my arms are comfortable." I shrug a little.

"Well." She turns and starts walking toward the house. "You should be comfortable not sleeping too."

I follow behind her.

*

"Tell me about me," Lorelei asks from the stool in the kitchen.

I pause but continue whisking the flour to make cookies. Something I learned from Vivienne.

Sometimes, she asks me to tell her about her past versions like this.

She does not remember them. Not really. Only fragments. Feelings. Echoes.

But she likes to hear the stories.

"Which one?" I ask.

"The time I was a land animal. With the floppy ears."

"What do you want to know?" I ask.

"You said I was afraid."

"Indeed."

"Liar." She shakes her head in disbelief. "You are not scary."

I think about Nima—about the way she ran from me at first, ears flattened, heart pounding, certain I was a predator.

I snort a laugh.

"Well, apparently I was to you."

"If I was scared of you, how did we become mates?" She tilts her head, genuinely curious.

I tell her.

About the beast academy. About the classes,I tell her about everything. How we fell in love. How we fought. How we protected each other.

How she died.

I finish the batter. I scrape it into the pan. I place it in the oven.

The cookies begin to bake.

The kitchen smells like sugar and butter and warmth.

Lorelei is quiet for a long moment.

"I do not remember," she says finally. "But I do. It is not clear, but... I feel it."

She presses her hand to her chest.

"I am sorry," she says.

I wipe my hands on my apron.

"For what?"

"For not remembering."

I cross to her stool. I take her face in my hands.

"You are here," I say. "That is enough."

I pause.

"Besides." I smile. "I get to fall in love with you again and again."

I reach for a cookie that has cooled on the tray. I break off a piece and place it in her mouth.

Her eyes sparkle.

"Okay?" I ask.

She nods immediately.

I wipe some crumbs from the corner of her mouth with my thumb, before finally hugging her.

For a moment, everything is peaceful.

Then a baby cries.

"I got her," I say.

***

Lorelei

In moments like this, I wish I too had the gift of art like her. That way, I could capture what I am seeing onto a canvas.

The afternoon on their faces. The way Alira’s tiny hand curls around Daphne’s finger. The peace in their expressions—so rare, so precious, so earned.

I walk silently across the room. I stop in front of the pair, asleep on the couch. I bend over, and my hair falls across Daphne’s nose.

She scrunches her nose.

Alira does the same in her sleep.

They look alike, I think. The same stubbornness. The same warmth. The same way of settling into sleep like the world cannot touch them.

It is unfair, when you really think about it. I had the egg. I spent a decade keeping her safe, risking my life against hunters and predators and the cold, endless loneliness of the deep. I sang to her when I had no voice left. I protected her when I had no strength left.

And the only thing this little one gets from me is the fact that she is merfolk.

Nothing else.

Not my eyes. Not my hair. Not my nature.

She looks like Daphne. Acts like Daphne. Sleeps like Daphne.

I sit on the floor next to the bed. I lean on my elbows and watch them.

All that loneliness and pain I grew so familiar with—now nothing but a memory. Replaced by happiness. By contentment. By the quiet miracle of simply being together.

I reach out. I brush a strand of hair from Alira’s forehead, I could watch them for ever. It makes me sad, that I might forget this scene but for this moment I’ll burn it into my soul.

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