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“Daddy, what are these?”
Turning his head at the sound of her voice, Benedict noticed that his three-year-old daughter was holding a glass bowl, peeking at it curiously, which could only mean one thing; she had discovered his rocks collection—Sophie had placed the bowl in which they were kept in one of the drawers in his study, but little Violet was an explorer, and nothing ever escaped her. She got that from him, and he couldn't help but smile at the thought.
He quickly moved to her side, abandoning the sketch he was working on, and took the bowl away—he didn't want to risk her getting hurt. Joining his daughter on the floor, he turned to her to explain why he collected these rocks, anticipating to see her reaction. He could still remember Sophie's confused expression when she had found them the night they reunited after two years, even after he had told her why he kept them.
“When I was a little older than you, I wanted to find something I could keep as a memento, to remind me of special memories. Something I could take from where I was and keep with me forever,” he explained gently, watching Violet, who was listening intently in an attempt to fully understand what he was talking about. Her short black hair was slightly blocking her view, but she was so focused on him that she didn’t bother to move it. Giggling, he brushed her hair behind her ears and continued. “Whenever something special happened, or if I had a really happy day, I’d find a rock and keep it in my collection. For example, the first time I beat Uncle Anthony and Uncle Colin in fencing years ago, I took a rock from the garden to remember my victory,” he said and he couldn't help but smile at the memory. It had felt so damn good.
Violet’s eyes had widened with excitement.
“I want to do that too! I want rocks!” she exclaimed after a moment, waving her little arms up and down. She was adorable.
“Then you should. Just make sure you tell Mummy first.”
“What should she tell Mummy?” Sophie said from the doorway, leaning against the frame, while touching her rounded belly. She was glowing.
“Violet’s found my collection—”
“I want to have rocks like Appa!” Violet shouted, running to Sophie’s side and hugging her leg. Benedict couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading in his body at the sight of them together. Although Violet had always been eager to throw herself into her mother's embrace, he had noticed that she had become very careful around her ever since they announced Sophie's pregnancy. Benedict knew she was mimicking his behaviour; his daughter had seen how gentle he was with Sophie and was trying to do the same, which he found heartwarming.
Sophie bent out to gently stroke Violet’s hair and gave Benedict a knowing look before turning her attention to their daughter. “Luckily, we’ve got plenty of rocks for you to collect here,” she said sweetly. “Daddy has kept a few from our house as well,” she added after a moment.
Violet gasped at this and immediately turned to her father. “Can I see? Can I see, Dad?” she asked, running back to him and climbing into his lap.
He could never say no to her, even if he wanted to. “You can, but only if Mum sits with us too,” he suggested, looking hopefully at Sophie. He already knew her answer before she could speak. She never said no to spending time with them, just like him.
Once they were all settled on the bed—there was no way he would let Sophie sit on the floor—Benedict took the bowl of rocks and pulled out the three he had collected from their time at My Cottage. The truth was, he could collect one every day, given that life with Sophie and their daughter was a blessing— he often wondered how he had become so lucky. But he had promised Sophie he’d only choose to collect a rock to mark truly significant moments—like the day they had their first kiss at My Cottage, their wedding day, and the spring evening Violet was born.
On second thought, Benedict quickly tossed the rock from the day on the lake, a day he vividly remembered, back into the bowl. There was no way he was telling that story to Violet.
“So,” he said with excitement, looking at his daughter. “Pick which one you like best,” he offered, holding out his open palms towards her. After pretending to consider it for a moment, tapping her chin thoughtfully, she grinned and pointed to the white marble rock in his right hand. Benedict looked up to find Sophie already smiling at him.
“This is the one Dad picked up the day you were born, Violet,” she explained, kissing her gently on the head.
“Really?” She asked excitedly.
“Really,” Benedict confirmed.
“Wow, a rock just for me?"
“Of course, darling. I tried to find the most beautiful and unique rock for the most beautiful girl.”
And then he saw the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his life. In that moment, his usually expressive and excitable daughter gave him the softest, faintest smile—the kind you’d miss if you blinked. A shy and reserved smile, just like the ones his wife, the woman he knew he would never stop loving, had been giving him for the last six years.
He often saw Sophie in Violet’s face; the beauty marks scattered on her face like delicate brushstrokes on a canvas, the dark coloured eyes and the straight black hair they both shared. Their daughter was a miniature version of Sophie, and he couldn’t have been happier. But in personality and mannerisms, she was more like him. Full of energy, mischievous, and unable to hide her emotions—whether happy, sad, angry, or scared, it was always written on Violet’s little face.
Yet, for the first time, he saw Sophie’s reserved nature in her expression, the same understated smiles Sophie used to give him when he watched her work for his family, smiles she used to try to hide whenever he reminded her how beautiful she was and how lucky he was to have fallen in love with her twice.
He couldn’t hold back the emotion, but not wanting to burst into tears suddenly and without cause, he simply returned Violet’s smile, hoping she couldn’t see the tears welling up in his eyes.
“We were the happiest we’d ever been when we first saw you,” Sophie murmured. And, oh, how right she was. He would never forget how it felt to see his baby daughter for the first time, how proud he was for being part of the reason she existed. “The moment you started crying, we knew our lives had changed forever.” She chose not to mention that when their daughter first cried, Benedict had cried too—something he should never feel embarrassed about.
“I cried? Why did I cry?”
Sophie giggled. “All babies cry, aegi. That’s how we know they’re healthy,” she explained.
Violet looked confused but didn’t ask for further clarification. She turned back to Benedict, gently placing her hand in his.
“And the other rock? What’s the other rock from, Appa?”
Four years earlier...
Although that morning he had looked up at a sky full of clouds, feeling disappointed at the thought of his wedding to Sophie taking place in the rain, in the end, they had been fortunate. Although rain seemed to be a significant part of their relationship, considering it had brought them together on that eventful night a while ago, Benedict wished it wouldn't rain on their wedding day. Sophie had dreamed a wedding in the countryside and he would hate to see her disappointment in case they were obligated to either postpone it or move it elsewhere. But as it seemed, aside from himself, even God didn’t want to deny Sophie her wish. The sky had cleared quickly, and even now, just before the sun set, there wasn’t a single cloud in sight. The day had been a blessing for both him and his wife.
His wife. He still couldn’t believe that Sophie was officially his. After all they had been through, forced to stay apart—
“Are you thinking of jumping into the lake again?” came a voice from behind him, and he turned with a smile, gazing upon the most ethereal being in the world. They were now alone at My Cottage, as the wedding had concluded almost an hour ago and the guests had all left—though Hyacinth had been reluctant to leave Sophie without the promise that they would stop by for tea at Number 5 the next morning—leaving them to enjoy the peace of their new life. Sophie had already taken off her wedding dress, much to his disappointment, but she was now wearing the first dress he had bought for her. A simple green gown with long sleeves, which he had known the moment he saw it would look stunning on her. And he had been right. Her hair was down, slightly tousled.
“Only if you join me,” he replied, moving swiftly to her side, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“I think I’ll skip that offer,” she smiled, hugging him. “I’d rather sit here with you, under this tree. I’m not ready to go to bed just yet.”
“I’ll try not to take that as an insult. Unless you don't want to use the bed for the usual wedding night activities.”
She lightly smacked his chest, blushing at his words. “Benedict!”
“I’m just saying,” he replied, raising his hands in defence, unable to hide his amusement.
“If you keep going like this, there won’t be any activities,” she teased, though Benedict knew even she didn’t believe her own words. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Still, he remained silent, following her as she settled under the shade of the tree she had pointed out, and pulling her back into his arms. He found it impossible to refrain from touching her as much as possible, especially after being forced to act nonchalant around her when she was working for his family and staying away from her for two whole years.
Or rather, not just two years. He had been without her his entire life. Because even before he met her, Benedict had been waiting for her. He was waiting to find a purpose, something he could live for. He was empty, finding satisfaction in meaningless encounters that lacked emotion. He had been lost, and with Sophie, he discovered who he truly was.
A sudden breeze made his wife snuggle even closer into his embrace, nestling against his side. Her head rested just below his chin, and he could feel the softness of her hair against his skin. He could smell her, a mixture of soft, blooming flowers filling his senses. He had never felt more at peace than in that moment.
“I love you,” he whispered, without even thinking.
“I love you too, Ben.”
He reached for the rock he found at his feet.
Lost in thought, it took him a while to realise that Sophie had started speaking to their daughter about the day he had picked up the rock she had pointed to.
“…and that evening, your dad kept this to remember our wedding day,” she concluded, and the way she looked at him indicated she had in mind many unspoken things that had happened that day, things he remembered all too well.
But the silent moment between them didn’t last long, as little Violet began jumping up and down excitedly, eager to go to the garden and collect a rock of her own.
“It’s cold outside,” Benedict said, just as Sophie suggested they could wait until the next day. But once Violet set her mind on something, it was hard to change her opinion. And she had her heart set on collecting a rock. The fact that he rarely denied her anything didn’t make the situation any easier.
“Eomma, please,” Violet pleaded. She was a smart girl, knowing exactly which parent she had to convince, as Benedict was already prepared to agree. He would bundle her up in her warmest clothes, carry her out, and—
“I’ll go instead,” Sophie said firmly, rising from the bed.
“But—”
“Even if your father and I let you, Mrs. Crabtree would have our heads for taking you out in this cold,” she interrupted, and she was right. If there was anyone more overprotective in the house than him, it was Mrs. Crabtree. Even throughout Sophie’s pregnancy, the older woman had watched her every move, not allowing her to get out of bed if she felt the slightest bit unwell. She was still acting this way, but Sophie was now prepared for what to expect, so she tended to be more careful on her own. Her presence was one of the reasons he felt more at ease about the safety of his girls. As long as Mrs. Crabtree was around, they always had someone else who cared deeply for them—alongside her husband.
“It won’t be the same,” their daughter complained silently.
“Let me go,” Benedict whispered to Sophie. “I don’t want you to tire yourself out.”
“I’m fine, I promise,” she reassured him. “I just need a bit of fresh air, I’ll be back in less than five minutes.”
He couldn’t argue with her. Five minutes wouldn’t hurt, would they? And since the decision had been made between the two of them, he turned to their sulking daughter and lifted her into his arms. “The rock will still be yours. Once Mummy brings it back, I’ll find a box to keep it in, and we’ll store it together with any others you decide to collect in the future,” he began to tell her, seeing that she was already warming to the idea.
“Eomma will find you the most beautiful rock, and you’ll always remember that this one marks the beginning of your own collection. It’s not about who gets it, but the story it holds, right?”
“Right,” she finally agreed, wrapping her little arms around his neck, hugging him with all her might.
“I’ll be right back,” Sophie called from the door, immediately making her way down the stairs.
Carrying little Violet in his arms, Benedict moved to the window, waiting to spot Sophie as she left the house. The sky had darkened, and it looked as though rain would soon begin to fall. The autumn leaves had decorated the garden lawn, creating endless paths in all directions. He secretly loved this time of year—since he was young, he had known it was the season when he wasn’t obligated to mingle with young débutantes, nor attend every ball his mother dragged him to. Autumn meant freedom to him.
And seeing Sophie walk through that very scene made him want to grab his brushes and paint her. To paint yet another portrait of her, but this time with the autumnal landscape in the background. If the weather was better, he’d take his daughter outside as well, to paint them together, one cradled in the other’s arms. His two most loved people in the world—
“Where's Mummy? Did she find it yet?” Violet asked impatiently, trying to shift in his arms to peek through the window, hoping to spot her mother.
“She’s only just gone out, little one, be patient,” he said softly, stroking her back lovingly. "We want the best one for you, remember?"
Barely ten seconds had passed before Violet asked again, “Now?”
“She’s still walking, I’ll tell you when she’s picked one,” he said, noticing that Sophie had headed to a meaningful spot for the two of them, searching for a rock in that certain area.
A few seconds had passed and as if she could sense his gaze on her, she turned to look at him and smiled widely. She was standing at the tree where they had lain the evening after their wedding, enjoying the peaceful countryside and knowing that they finally belonged to one another, without needing to justify their choices. Without having to share any of the details of that day earlier, when Violet had asked about the story of the rock, Benedict remembered exactly how he had felt beside his beloved. And he couldn’t help but return her smile, knowing Sophie was definitely sharing the same thoughts.
“Tell me, Dad, what do you see now?” Violet spoke up again, her patience thinning more and more with each passing moment.
“My soul,” he replied, recalling the words once spoken by a beautiful lady in silver that had marked him forever. “I see my very soul.”