Years passed, and Edward grew from a chubby, giggling toddler into a bright, curious little boy.
Alexander had promised to be there for him, and he kept that promise.
He was there for Edward's first words. Papa.
He was there when Edward took his first proper fall, scraping his knee. Instead of brushing it off, Alexander had knelt down, gently cleaning the wound while murmuring soothing words.
He was there for his first day of school, holding his tiny hand as they walked through the gates together.
In his past life, he had missed all of it.
Now, he savored every moment.
One evening, after dinner, Alexander sat in his study, going over paperwork. Edward, now five years old, peeked into the room, clutching a storybook.
"Papa?"
Alexander looked up, smiling. "What is it, my boy?"
Edward hesitated. "Can you read to me?"
Alexander's heart ached. He had said no so many times before in his past life. Always too busy. Always later.
This time, he pushed the papers aside and opened his arms. "Come here."
Edward grinned and ran into his lap, settling against his chest as Alexander opened the book. As he read aloud, the boy listened intently, his small hands gripping his father's sleeve.
Eleanor appeared in the doorway, watching with quiet amusement. "You spoil him."
Alexander smiled, pressing a kiss to Edward's head. "No, I'm just finally doing it right."
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