Chapter 86

The October night rain tapped against the windowpanes, carrying a hint of chill.

Emily Johnson had just slipped under the covers when two bare little bodies wriggled in beside her, clinging to her like tiny eels. She instinctively shifted toward the inner side of the bed, making space for the man who would soon join them.

"Is the roof holding up?" she asked softly.

Michael Stone stood by the bed, his tall frame outlined by the moonlight. "A few leaks, but I've set out pans to catch the water," he replied, his voice deep and carrying the dampness of the rainy night.

The bed creaked slightly as he lay down. The modest-sized mattress suddenly felt cramped, and Emily could distinctly sense the warmth radiating from him through the children. The faint scent of soap mixed with his masculine presence made her tense involuntarily.

"Can't sleep?" Michael reached over their sleeping son, David, to tuck the blanket around her. His rough fingertips brushed her cheek by accident, sending a subtle shiver through her.

"Once the rain stops tomorrow, I'll check the riverbank," he murmured. "They say after heavy rains like this, you can find plenty of fish washed up."

Emily's eyes lit up. Wild fish! A rare delicacy in modern times. Suddenly excited, she blurted, "I want to go too."

"The paths will be muddy," Michael frowned. "And there'll be crowds—"

"I have rubber boots," she interrupted, her tone carrying an unconscious note of pleading. She desperately needed fresh air—being cooped up all day was suffocating.

In the darkness, she felt his gaze linger on her face for a long moment.

"We'll see when the rain eases," he finally conceded, a hint of amused resignation in his voice.

The steady patter of rain gradually became a lullaby. Emily had expected to lie awake, but instead, she drifted off quickly. In her drowsy haze, she thought she felt something soft and warm press against her forehead—light as a feather.

By the faint glow from the window, Michael studied his wife's peaceful sleeping face. The two boys had somehow rolled to the center of the bed, limbs splayed, claiming most of the space. Carefully, he adjusted the blankets over all three of them, his lips curving into an unconscious smile.

That night, the leaky roof and damp air no longer mattered.

Morning came, but the rain hadn’t stopped.

When Emily opened her eyes, she found David and Tommy already dressed, kneeling by the bed and flipping through picture books. Michael stood at the window, frowning at the relentless downpour.

"Awake?" He turned, his handsome features softened by the morning light. "The rain won’t let up anytime soon."

Emily gazed at the torrent outside and realized—this autumn rain seemed to have quietly soaked something else as well.