Meanwhile, Kafka on the other hand, who had just successfully impregnated every single women in the room, including his two mothers—was going through whole different set of emotions.
He had always dreamed—secretly, hungrily, sometimes hopelessly of this.
Not just to love and be loved, but to create life with the women he cherished most.
To see little ones with his eyes and theirs, laughter and footsteps echoing in their home.
And now, as he looked down at Abigaille and Olivia, flushed and glowing, filled with his seed and their future children, he felt his eyes sting with tears.
"I...I did it." He murmured, almost to himself, voice thick and trembling. "I finally did it…I'm going to be a father."
He was on the verge of crying for joy—actual tears, unstoppable, the kind that would spill down his cheeks without shame, the fulfillment of a dream so old and fierce that now, with their bodies still wrapped around his, it almost hurt.
