Charles's Point of View
My father's words echoed in my mind: "When you start having babies, allow at least three years, ideally five, between them. This gives you the necessary time to properly nurture and train each child, ensuring their healthy development." It was a principle I always intended to uphold, yet my circumstances often seemed to conspire against it.
Nevertheless, I found myself treading a path somewhat parallel to his advice.
My wife, Milan, had recently expressed her desire for another child. Her hopes were set on having sons this time. Though I obliged her intimate request, I refrained from conceiving. In my estimation, Ace, our second daughter, was still too young to have a sibling. I was going to wait for another three years before attempting to expand our family again.
Why the urgency, after all? My past attempts at fatherhood have yielded a consistent result: six pregnancies with five different women, all resulting in daughters. Perhaps the issue lay with me.
During this interim, as I waited for Ace to mature, Vesta, our firstborn, was nearing her fourth birthday and began exhibiting peculiar traits. Physically, she was all girl, yet her demeanor was strikingly masculine. Her actions, her very essence, seemed boyish. She would bully girls her age and even some slightly older boys.
My attempts to steer her towards more conventional feminine behavior involved strictness, even at her young age. However, my efforts backfired. Instead of softening, she grew more resolute, my discipline seemingly fueling her stubbornness.
Around her fifth birthday, Vesta watched an animated show featuring boxing. Shortly thereafter, the sounds of thuds and bangs can be heard from her room. At the doorway, Milan stood speechless, utterly surprised. Inside, Vesta had fashioned a makeshift punching bag from pillows and her bed stand. She was striking it with such force that loud thuds echoed, completely unaware of our presence.
Seeing her at that moment, a thought struck me: why had Milan named our daughter after a warrior goddess? Could that be the source of her fierce spirit?
That day marked a turning point. I developed a keen interest in Vesta, a shift that would redefine my perspective. What captivated me most was her remarkable aptitude for learning. A brief demonstration, a minimal explanation, and she would not only grasp the concept but often execute it flawlessly in short order.
I began to train her, my focus so intense that my desire to conceive sons with Milan receded into the background.
Milan's Point of View
For the past two years, Charles had been completely absorbed in training Vesta, our eldest daughter. He made a half-hearted attempt to train Ace, our second, as well, but Ace seemed destined for a gentler path than Vesta's rigorous, almost military-style upbringing.
Ace possessed her own unique fascination: computers. She spent hours at our computer, her fingers dancing across the keyboard, engrossed in some digital world. She wasn't entirely excluded from training, but her involvement was nowhere near the intensity of Vesta's.
Charles and I were on better terms, though a distance still lingered. He now ate my cooking, and he would occasionally speak to the children. My jokes, however, still failed to spring any reaction from him.
I mostly forced him to make love with me these days. He would comply in a detached manner, leaving me feeling unfulfilled. There were times I wondered if he found more pleasure with his clients than with me. Eventually, I understood his preoccupation stemmed from the fact that I had sold my property and received nothing in return.
One beautiful Sunday afternoon, as I prepared lunch, I heard Ace's hesitant voice, "Dad, is that you?"
My own daughter struggled to recognize her father. She was seeing a different man.
When I went to the sitting room to investigate, I, too, was taken aback. Standing there was a strikingly handsome man, impeccably dressed, with a radiant smile that revealed his bright teeth. I was instantly captivated, tears of joy welling up in my eyes as I returned his smile.
Charles had cut his hair and shaved his beard for the first time in years. He stood there, smiling, looking so incredibly endearing.
My curious Ace tugged at my sleeve. "Mom, is that Dad? Was he this cute all along?"
My smile widened from deep within. "Yes, sweetheart," I replied, "that's your Dad, and yes, he is very cute!"
I saw the uncertainty in her eyes, a longing to embrace him yet a hesitation to approach this unfamiliar, handsome figure. I gently encouraged her, and she ran to him with unrestrained joy, leaping into his arms for a tight hug.
At that moment, my tears and smiles flowed freely. My Charles was finally back.
He turned to me, his eyes soft. "How are you, my love?"
Overwhelmed with emotion, I simply nodded, my hand covering my mouth in surprise and happiness.
Vesta, hearing the commotion, emerged from her room and instantly recognized him. She ran and embraced him without hesitation, a testament to her greater maturity in recognition, and her closeness with him due to her day-to-day training.
That night, we shared a peaceful and loving family dinner, which was the first time ever doing such a thing.
And later, oh God, the lovemaking was unlike anything we had experienced in years. It was as if the pent-up passion of the past had condensed into that single night. At one point, I was so dried, but even as he offered to stop, I urged him to continue. Despite the roughness, I savored every moment.
We didn't sleep that night. We talked for hours, our conversation meandering without a specific focus, until the first light of dawn.
I knew my impulsive promise might be impossible to fulfill, but I made it nonetheless, fueled by love, hope, courage, and a touch of desperation. I promised him I would bear him sons.
He shook his head gently. Vesta, he explained, had shown him the qualities he sought in a male child. He intended to guide Ace as well, to train them together.
Relief washed over me. "So, it doesn't matter what I give birth to?"
But Charles already had a different vision. He didn't want to endure the months of pregnancy and the subsequent years of waiting for a child to mature. Instead, he proposed adopting two girls around our daughters' ages, creating a larger family he could nurture and train together.