Time continued its steady march forward, marked by little victories and fleeting moments of clarity. Six months. That's how long it had been now. His body was still frustratingly weak, but it was growing stronger. He could sit without toppling over, push himself onto his hands and knees, even attempt to crawl in wobbly, inefficient motions.
The world was slowly opening up to him. Sounds became clearer, faces more distinct. His mother's warmth was always there, a comforting constant. His father's presence remained imposing, though there was something else behind those sharp eyes—something observant, calculating. And his brother? He was still the same whirlwind of energy, bouncing between excitement and impatience.
But there was something else. Something different.
The sun.
Stephen adored the sun. He didn't understand why, but the warmth of it against his skin sent waves of comfort through him. It was the one thing that could calm him instantly. The moment sunlight hit his face, his fussing stopped, his cries softened, and a deep sense of peace settled over him.
His mother had noticed.
"He really likes being outside," she mused one afternoon, holding him on the porch.
Mark, who had been running circles around them, stopped and peered at his little brother. "Yeah, but he really doesn't like being inside."
It was true. The moment he was taken away from the sun for too long, he grew restless. Sometimes he cried, sometimes he just wriggled uncomfortably, but it was clear—he needed to be outside.
Their mother had taken to spending more time in the garden because of it. She would lay out a blanket, sit with him in the grass, let the sun drape over them. He would coo happily, his tiny hands grasping at the air, his entire body buzzing with contentment.
Mark took full advantage of this.
"Can he play yet?" he asked one afternoon, lying next to him on the blanket.
"Not yet," their mother replied, stroking Stephen's cheek. "He's still little."
Mark huffed dramatically. "He's always little."
Stephen, despite his limited ability to react, would have rolled his eyes if he could.
_ _ ♛ _ _
The checkups continued, though they had become less frequent. He was healthy, growing at a normal rate—or at least, that's what the doctors claimed. But his father still watched him closely, as if expecting something more.
One evening, Stephen found himself in his father's grasp again. The man held him up, studying him with the same unreadable intensity.
"You're strong," he muttered, almost to himself. His grip adjusted, supporting Stephen's small form with ease.
Stephen simply blinked. He had no idea what his father expected from him, and even if he did, what could he do? He was a baby. He had barely figured out how to control his own body, let alone understand whatever silent test was being conducted.
_ _ ♛ _ _
The days settled into a rhythm. Mornings spent in the sunlight, afternoons with Mark bounding around him, evenings filled with quiet lullabies. He had no responsibilities, no worries—just warmth, comfort, and the endless sky above him.
But something tugged at him. Something deep, something unshaped.
A feeling that one day, everything would change.
For now, though, he basked in the sun, letting it soak into his skin, letting himself be a baby just a little while longer.
_ _ ♛ _ _
But the world didn't stay small forever. As much as he adored the sun, he began to notice more. The way his mother's hands trembled sometimes when she thought no one was watching. The way his father stood at the edge of the yard, staring at the sky with a look Stephen couldn't yet understand. The way Mark, despite his boundless energy, sometimes curled up beside him quietly, as if needing reassurance.
Something weighed on the house, an invisible pressure that Stephen wasn't yet old enough to comprehend. But he could feel it.
One evening, as the sky bled into brilliant shades of orange and pink, Stephen sat in his mother's lap, his tiny fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. She rocked him gently, humming a song he had come to recognize. It was always the same one—soft, soothing, filled with something bittersweet.
Mark sat nearby, poking at the grass, occasionally plucking strands and tossing them aside.
"Mom," he said suddenly. "Why does Dad look sad sometimes?"
The question hung in the air, heavy in its innocence.
His mother sighed, her fingers absentmindedly brushing through Stephen's hair. "Your father has a lot on his mind."
Mark frowned, unsatisfied with that answer. "But why?"
There was a pause, as if she was searching for the right words. Finally, she spoke, her voice gentle. "Because he wants the best for us. And sometimes, that means thinking about things we don't understand yet."
Mark huffed but didn't press further. Instead, he flopped onto his back, staring up at the sky. "I don't get adults."
Stephen agreed, though he could only gurgle in response.
_ _ ♛ _ _
The following weeks brought new frustrations. He wanted to move more. His body still lagged behind his mind, and that disparity gnawed at him. He was crawling now, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to stand. To walk. To do something.
Mark, for all his impatience, helped in his own way.
"Come on, you can do it!" he cheered, waving a toy in front of Stephen enticingly.
Stephen grunted, his tiny arms wobbling as he tried to push himself upright. He managed to get onto his knees but quickly flopped back down. Mark groaned dramatically. "Ugh! You're so slow!"
Their mother chuckled. "He's a baby, Mark. He's doing just fine."
Mark flopped onto his stomach, propping his chin in his hands. "I guess. But I wanna play now."
Stephen shot him a look that, if translated, would have been something along the lines of I'm trying.
_ _ ♛ _ _
Time marched on. Stephen's love for the sun never wavered, but now he was starting to appreciate the night as well. When the world grew quiet, when the stars blanketed the sky, something about it felt... peaceful.
One night, as his mother rocked him to sleep on the porch, he looked up at the stars, mesmerized by the way they twinkled. His mother followed his gaze and smiled softly.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?"
Stephen cooed in response. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "One day, you'll understand just how big this world really is."
A shiver ran through him. Not from fear, but from something else. Something deep in his bones.
One day.
But for now, he was just a baby. And the warmth of his mother, the laughter of his brother, and the endless comfort of the sun were more than enough.
End of Chapter 3