When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2083

Constipation? Jonathan gaped, utterly bewildered. When have I ever been constipated?

Nathaniel cleared his throat and shot Jonathan a pointed look. Understanding flashed instantly.

He resigned himself to carrying the constipation story on his back.

“Yeah... I guess I've been skimping on water lately,” Jon muttered.

The moment Cecilia understood what was happening, concern flooded her eyes. She slipped an arm around Jonathan's small shoulders and drew him into a full-bodied embrace that smelled of warm vanilla and home.

“Jon, let me take you to a doctor, all right? You're far too little to struggle with something like constipation.”

Hearing the word confirmed aloud, Cecilia's chest pinched. Only a woman who has carried a child, nursed him through colic and fevers, knows how a single twitch of discomfort in that tiny body can split a mother's heart wide open.

Jonathan, scooped up without warning, felt heat rush to his cheeks until his whole face burned as brightly as a stovetop coil.

He had merely confessed the problem, never imagining the confession would buy him this long-lost comfort.

It had been ages since Cecilia had hugged him like this.

“No, Mommy, really. I'll be fine if I drink more water. It isn't that bad, please don't worry.”

He had always been the model child, obedient, courteous, eager to spare adults trouble.

Cecilia shook her head, unwilling to yield. “That won't do. Maybe we should buy medicine. Constipation sometimes needs glycerin suppositories, doesn't it?”

She said it with earnest gravity, the way surgeons announce a lifesaving operation.

Jonathan's expression twisted into silent misery. Great, sc*mbag daddy. Of all lies you could invent, you picked constipation. Now Mom believes it completely.

“Probably, but honestly, Mommy, I don't need them,” he whispered, the words nearly swallowed by the flush covering his face.

Nathaniel watched, eyes soft with pity for the boy and a glimmer of amused apology for the mess he had caused.

Without another word, Cecilia opened her phone, tapped at lightning speed, and ordered suppositories plus half a pharmacy's worth of gentle digestive aids.

By the time they reached home, a courier stood at the gate like a summoned genie, parcel in hand. Cecilia placed the small box into Jonathan's palms.

“Sweetie, don't be embarrassed. If you're not sure how to use them, I will help you.”

Help me? Jonathan stared at the plastic-wrapped suppositories, despair dropping like a stone in his stomach.

Elliot pressed a small hand against his chest, trying to calm the little jolt of surprise inside. “Jon is really kind of pitiful,” he breathed, each syllable drifting like a secret.

Changing the subject with an exaggerated burst of cheer, Cecilia clapped her hands. “Come on,” she said, “let's try the outfits we just bought today, shall we?”

“Sure! Mommy, you have to take tons of super-cool photos of me.”

Cecilia hurried to the bedroom, arms gathering the new clothes in bright cascading layers. One by one, she handed them to the excited boy and stepped back while he struck every pose his imagination supplied.

When the little photoshoot ended, she pinged the pictures to Alphonse and Bethany, then uploaded them to her social feed, a timeline now gleaming with her sons' smiles.

Nathaniel sat off to the side, the leather armchair swallowing his broad shoulders as he watched in silence. She really only has room for the boys, never for herself, never for me. Even her feed is nothing but our sons.

A toilet flushed. Jonathan emerged, waving his hands as though he had just conquered Everest. “Everything went great, Mommy. I pooped with flying colors!” he announced, deliberately casual.

Relief softened Cecilia's shoulders. She pulled him beside Elliot and reopened the camera for an impromptu sibling portrait.

“Our Elliot and Jonathan are drop-dead gorgeous—handsomer than any child star on television,” Alphonse and Bethany commented, stacking heart emojis Cecilia could almost feel.