When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2073

2073 /2073

Minutes later, they emerged, Cecilia and Nathaniel each carrying a child whose face was now hidden behind bright plastic. Their small breaths fogged the inside of the masks, turning them into mysterious little figures.

Elliot's voice seeped through the pig snout, forlorn. “Jon, why do I have to wear a mask too?”

Jonathan adjusted the elastic at the back of his own monkey mask. “Less chatter. With these on, no one will recognize us. You've got a mountain of online fans. Do you want them lining up for autographs right now?” Even the thought made his shoulders tense.

The image apparently delighted Elliot. His lips curved beneath the plastic, dimpling the cheeks no one could see.

“Actually, that sounds awesome,” he said, the words accompanied by an audible grin.

Jonathan let silence answer.

The brothers clearly lived on different planets.

“Mask on, questions off,” Jonathan ordered, voice muffled but iron-firm.

Elliot released a long, dramatic sigh, then ventured, “Fine, but why do you get the monkey mask while I'm stuck with the pig?”

“Because the monkey is the elder disciple and the pig is the junior,” Jonathan explained patiently. “I'm the older brother, and you're the younger. That's simple hierarchy. Got it?”

“Oh.” A tiny sound of belated understanding.

Left with no further argument, Elliot slumped in resigned silence.

A few steps behind, Cecilia and Nathaniel exchanged amused glances, the muted bickering of their sons drawing quiet laughter from their throats.

Sure enough, once the masks were on, the crowd's attention drifted elsewhere like dust in a changing breeze.

Nathaniel's eyes, however—cool, focused, framed by a stature made for designer suits—still earned him more than a few intrigued side glances from passing women.

Cecilia, intent on her children, remained blissfully unaware of every admiring look that followed her husband.

Jonathan noticed that and said, “Mommy, I'm tired.” His voice, faint behind the monkey mask, carried the first hint of fatigue.

“Oh? Then let me carry you,” Cecilia answered at once, arms already opening to gather him close.

Jonathan had always been the warm heart of the household. He was sensible to a fault and never the sort of child to fake fatigue. Seeing the slump in his shoulders tonight, Cecilia guessed he must have slept poorly.

He shook his tiny head. “Daddy, could you carry me?” he asked, voice soft yet threaded with real weariness.

Nathaniel did not hesitate. In one fluid motion, he swept Jonathan into his arms, settling the boy against his chest as though that space had been carved for him alone.

Elliot stared, confusion flickering across his round face. He felt nowhere near tired, yet why did his brother look ready to drop? Choosing not to voice the question, he simply laced his fingers through Cecilia's and trotted along in silence.