At night, Rosalie played hide-and-seek with Steve.
Steve laughed uncontrollably as he played with his mother.
Rosalie deliberately hid in obvious places, allowing Steve to find her easily. Each time, he would excitedly pounce into her arms.
"Steve—oh no, I mean, Jake." Rosalie cupped the child's face. "From now on, your name is Jake. Your father gave you this name."
The child was still not entirely used to his new name. A few times, when Rosalie called him Jake, he didn't respond immediately, thinking she wasn't talking to him.
"Jake, come, let's practice. Say Jake Spencer."
"Jake…Spencer…" He earnestly repeated after his mother, gradually adjusting to his new name.
"Good boy. From now on, Mommy will call you Jake."
"Mama." Jake threw himself into Rosalie's arms, happy no matter what she called him.
"Alright, Jake, it's about time for bed." Rosalie carried him to the bed and sat down.
Jake lay obediently in his crib, gazing at his mother.
Rosalie patiently coaxed him until his eyelids grew heavy and he slowly drifted off to sleep. She gently tucked him in and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.
"Goodnight, my love."
-
When Jake fell asleep, Rosalie quietly left his room.
After taking a bath, she lay in bed, unable to fall asleep.
Normally, Theodore would stay with her, but she didn't want to disturb his rest, so she had insisted that he return to his room.
She still woke up crying from nightmares every night, but at least she no longer screamed in terror like before.
After lying awake for a while, Rosalie finally got up and walked toward Theodore's room, wanting to talk to him. As she reached the door, she noticed that it was slightly ajar, and she overheard a conversation inside.
Theodore caught her wrist. "Rose, what are you doing?"
"Hold still." Rosalie's tone grew firm. When she had walked in earlier, he had been shirtless, and she thought she had seen something unusual.
Determined, she forcefully pulled his robe open. What she saw made her gasp.
Theodore's chest was covered in scars.
There was a particularly noticeable one at the center of his chest—she knew it was from the arrow Yerick had shot at him. Just thinking about that incident made her tremble.
His shoulder and other areas of his chest bore even more injuries—newer than the old wound on his chest, clearly inflicted not too long ago.
Rosalie raised her trembling hand and gently traced his wounds. "When did you get hurt?"
The wound on his shoulder looked particularly severe, as if something had pierced right through it.
Theodore gently held her hand. "Rose, these are nothing. They'll heal soon."
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