It was indeed a funny sight to behold, Theodore Newman, the fierce ex-Naval commodore, in his intimidating demeanor, holding and murmuring words to his son while parading the tiny room.

His bulky body seemed to eat up the entire space as he strode around, silently praying Jema would be quick with her bathroom exercise.

She strolled out still in her bloodstained robe.

"Why are you still wearing that?" His face melted into a frown as he took her in.

She shrugged. "There's no fresh robe in the bathroom and I can't wrap myself in a towel. Gosh, how did I forget my clothes?" She muttered the last words, rubbing at her drowsy eyes. She hadn't slept at all and it was five in the morning.

"I'll ring them up to get you some, just take him back." He moved closer to Jema.

"I can't!" She blurted.

"What?!"

Slowly and painfully, Jema raised her trembling arm at him, for him to see how weak and unstable she was. "My wound got ripped open again, it's sending tremors through my muscles..." She lifted her heavy eyes at him and spoke. "I can't hold him anymore, you have to do it yourself."

Theodore stepped back in confusion, "Then why can't we just lay him on the bed? Have him propped against a pillow. It helps, I know it helps." He protested.

"He's used to the baby rocker, you can't just replace his crib with an ordinary adult bed, he'll not be comfortable."

Theo groaned frustratedly, "What a spoiled little man, how did you raise him this way?"

"I guess he took after his father after all." Jema shot back. She could tell from her sudden fearlessness that the horrific events had taken a toll on her, she was snappy and fatigued. "You can try the bed, I'll go see if I can get a bandage for myself." She went over to the phone and dialed the receptionist.

Jema was done with the call when she heard the baby's cry. A triumphant smile spread across her face. She was right about laying him down on the bed but Theo's stubbornness wouldn't let him listen. He wanted to get rid of the responsibilities of holding his son so badly.
She wondered what callous manner he'd grown up in. The man was unable to express the simplest task of care. No wonder he had a home full of servants, chefs, nurses, and a home manager who knew little about nurturing a four-month-old. They were all under his spell of command, eager to abide by his stoic rules no matter what the outcome was.

It had been a mouth-gaping encounter for Jema when she first arrived at the mansion, the house was cold like its owner, large but distant, unable to be called a home and she only realized why after the club incident. Theodore Newman lacked every warmth a child should've been given. Having everything to his disposition wasn't enough for a child who lacked parental care and love. They grow up becoming angry children, brooding teenagers, and eventually cold, icy men who think emotions were a form of weakness instead of strength.

If exhaustion was a person Theo would be it, for he returned with his son looking defeated. "What else can be done? I'm utterly exhausted. Can I at least sit?" His eyes pleaded with Jema like she held the key to his problems.

"I can't guarantee you anything, you could try rocking him while sitting... but just be very subtle with it or he'll wake."

Theo perked up in a bit of excitement and properly positioned himself on the cushion, wrapping his bold arms around the baby. The constant jerk of his thighs gave a little idea of comfort to the baby as he slept through it.

"It worked!" Jema exclaimed quietly when she stepped out of the bathroom after changing into a fresh robe.

"Huh! I'm glad it did," Theo's drowsy voice muttered. He was extremely famished, with hardly enough strength to stay up and extract answers from Jemaa on the incident that happened. That was all he thought about up until the baby was handed over to him.

"I'll take him from you, he's probably knocked out to the core and won't mind sleeping on the bed." Jema offered, gently squatting before Theo to have the baby in her arms. Her wound still ached but she could manage.

"Oh, sorry!" She blurted out, spinning on her heels to give Theo some privacy as he tore off his shirt.

"You don't have to be, I'm all wet and clammy and I can't keep that shirt on for too long. You don't mind, do you?"

Jemaa stole a glance his way, noting how reluctant he was to cover up his bare-less body. Warmth swept up her face at the sight of the herculean man behind her. He was too ripped, too studded for his age. She couldn't keep her gaze to the floor as much as she tried, she watched him peel the sheets off and finally wrapped himself with it. That was when she realized his teeth were clanging against each other and he had a bit of tremor to him.

The cold outside was harsh, nobody could escape its fury. Not even her in her white robe.

Theo sat relaxed on the cushion once more, staring into nothingness. His left foot tugged gently behind the right foot, pulling off his shoe. He repeated the same for the left foot. As his cramped feet found freedom, he stretched his legs out and wiggled his toes for better relief.
Jema almost let out a snort at his childish yet human-like act. She always thought he was of another planet, that he didn't do things their way, that he breathed different air and was of a better species than her. That was how the man portrayed himself for heaven's sake!

"Will you keep standing there and glaring at me all night?" He asked in between the silence. He was watching Jemaa like she was out of her mind for standing by the door like he was going to mangle her if she dared rest on the bed. "I'm not gonna hurt you, you know?" He added in case that was what kept her away from resting.

Jema shook her head at him and perched at the tip of the other bed where baby Sam slept peacefully, hedged properly by a pillow. She wouldn't miss the opportunity to cuddle the little man while he slept, sniff his angelic scent, and also hear him whimper out of hunger by daybreak. Any excuse to be near him she'd make.

"They know who he is..." Jema began. Her eyes were on the floor, afraid of what she would see in those cold eyes that were now staring down at her.

Theodore waited for her to speak again, her reluctance was killing him, he wanted to grab her shoulders and jerk the answers out of her bloody lips but his eyes fell on his son, asleep. "Who are they?"

"Two men and a woman—they were masked but I-I could tell by their voices and names."

"Names?!" Theo sat up with half of the sheets left behind, exposing his fine body. His elbows fisted on his thighs as he waited for more. Jemaa nodded, her eyes met his fiery ones in time to feel a rush of heat sift through her body. She almost chastised herself for reacting obscenely towards him.

"Their leader, they called him Ty. I don't know what that meant in full but he was so pissed when she mentioned it. It's his real name."

"What of the others? You didn't catch theirs?"

"No, they were careful."

"How did three of them overpower two of my best men? They couldn't have done that one-on-one and nobody called the distress line of an attack. I only saw one body. Did they take the other guard?" Theo was agitated, he was trying his best to hold it in, to be reasonable at best and wait till the sun came up to clear his head but it was an impossible feat for him. The more Jemaa revealed the more his anger drove deeper.

"I don't know, how would I?... they had me at gunpoint before I could realize what was happening. It's all blurry in my head." Jema whispered, shaking from the memories she revisited. "They knew that we were somehow connected to you, they asked who we were to you_''

"And?" Theo cut in, feeling his whole body shake. Did his secret finally leave the bag? Did she succumb to their demands and if yes why was she and the baby still alive?

"I tried to lie at first but," Jema shook, tipped her head back preventing the tears from strolling down.

"Fuck!" Theo exclaimed.

"The baby," Jema cautioned. "You'll wake him." She warned, checking to see that he was still asleep.

Theodore stood panting, the damn room was too small to express his chest full of anger. He felt confined in it.

"But they bought the lie that I'm your step-sister. That my son and I reunited with you after years of living as a pauper."

Theodore quickly snapped his gaze at her, relief washed over him like water. Suddenly, while staring at the petite woman before him, a new wave of admiration for her soared through his chest. She was indeed a mother Theresa to him and his son.

"They believed you?" His croaky voice asked.

"They had to, they knew I couldn't lie to them when the baby's life was at risk..." Her lower lips quivered, and she tugged repeatedly at the hem of her robe as if it pricked her skin underneath. But fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, and she began to shudder, sniffling and wiping off the tears as more followed.

"They had a knife to his throat, threatening to stab him if I didn't cooperate. Oh gosh! I almost died seeing that." Jema wailed silently, her gaze grazing on the little boy who was unaware of the dangers he was in a few hours ago. The dangers that could've claimed his existence, a dreadful fate for a child who was too young to understand that he might've been snatched the opportunity to live, to learn and grow old if not for her convincing power.

His head ached, and a pang of pain shot through his midbrain down to his nostrils. Theo groaned, letting go of the mass of dark hair clenched rigidly in his fingers. Rather he pinched the bridge of his nose to inflict pain and null the ache in his chest. He felt like a bloody moron, a fuckin loser to have exposed his son to such horror.

"Go to sleep, it's past six and we need to hit the road once the sky is clear and the roads are a bit dry." That was all he could say to the woman bawling her eyes and heart to him. He was a cold man, and he knew it.

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What do you think of Theodore Newman?
What could he have done differently?