The idea of Christmas makes Kaya want to curl up into a ball and just disappear. Last Christmas, he had been with Sonya. She’d been pregnant with Jane, and Vee had been fascinated by the swell of her belly. They’d talked about all the plans they had: the holiday to Seville they were going to take in the summer, and the conservatory they were going to add on to the back of their house (Kaya had drawn up at least a dozen plans), and wondered just how much bigger Vespasian would be by next Christmas when he’d already grown so big.
But giving up isn’t really an option when you’ve got two kids. For their sake, he’d ventured out to the Christmas fair, even though he’s horribly behind on a project. They seem to like it, Jane wrapped up in a huge white onesie and looking a lot like the Michelin man, strapped to Kaya’s chest and calmly staring out at the lights and sounds, and Vee is holding on to his hand, dragging him around and babbling excitedly in his confusing mix of English, Turkish, and French.
Kaya is trying to guide him enough that he doesn’t get underfoot, but it’s not long before Vee barrels directly into a pair of legs. “Sorry,” Kaya says, already pulling his son back when he realises who it is. “--Oh.” That’s all he’s got. Oh. He knew Lya would have to find out at some point, but he wanted to put it off as long as possible. His reappearance in her life was pain enough; him having two kids would be agony. And he doesn’t know what the hell to say now, and Vee is tugging on his hand looking up at him with confusion, demanding Daddy? in his confused little two year old voice. @kamelyayildiz
