After that day, something changed.
Not loudly. Not suddenly.
But gently.
Hong Yi noticed it in the way Haoyu looked at him—longer, deeper, as if searching for something he was still learning how to name. He noticed it when Haoyu instinctively reached for him when he was scared, or waited for him before eating, or fell asleep beside him without realizing it.
Yet the word never came.
Papa.
Hong Yi never asked for it.
But at night, when the house was quiet, he sometimes lay awake wondering if he would ever hear it. He told himself he was already grateful—that being allowed to stay was more than enough.
Xiamen saw it all.
She saw the patience in his silence. The hope he tried to hide.
"Give him time," she whispered once, squeezing his hand.
"He's learning how to heal too."
Days passed.
One evening, Haoyu came into the living room unusually serious.
Hong Yi and Xiamen both looked up.
"Can I talk to you?" Haoyu asked.
They exchanged a glance and nodded.
Haoyu stood in front of them, small hands clenched, as if he'd practiced this moment many times.
"Mama," he said first, turning to Xiamen.
Her heart melted instantly.
Then he turned to Hong Yi.
"Papa."
The world stopped.
Hong Yi's breath caught so sharply it almost hurt.
Xiamen gasped.
Haoyu smiled shyly, then looked between them.
"I thought about it," he said carefully.
"I know now. You didn't leave because you didn't love us."
Hong Yi knelt down in front of him, eyes shining.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he whispered.
"But I'm here now."
Haoyu nodded seriously.
"Then…" he said, voice brightening,
"I want you to marry again."
For a second, there was stunned silence.
Then—
Hong Yi laughed. Xiamen laughed through tears.
They pulled Haoyu into their arms at the same time, hugging him tightly.
"We already wanted that," Hong Yi said softly, pressing his forehead to Haoyu's.
"But we were waiting for you."
"Then I say yes," Haoyu declared proudly.
The wedding was beautiful.
Not grand for the world— but perfect for them.
Xiamen wore white, radiant and calm. Hong Yi stood beside her, steady and sure. When they exchanged rings, their hands trembled—not from fear this time, but from gratitude.
Haoyu stood between them, holding both their hands.
When the photographer asked them to smile, Haoyu looked up proudly and said,
"My papa and mama."
The camera clicked.
Hong Yi smiled wider than he ever had in his life.
Because this time—
Love didn't leave. Love stayed. Love grew.
And their family was finally whole. 💙