Good Morning, My Love.

“Good morning, love.”

He woke up, as always, just before the alarm went offan old habit from his army days. Rolling out of bed, he pushed himself off the floor without opening his eyes, a few quick press-ups to shake off the last traces of sleep.

“Ill go wake the lads, Ellie.”

The “lads” were his ten-year-old twin boys, asleep in the next room. Two smaller versions of himself, mouths slightly open, as if sharing the same dream. The heating had been dodgy all night, so hed skipped their usual early run, letting them sleep in. He lingered, admiring how sturdy theyd grown.

At their age, hed been the oppositescrawny, awkward, hunched over. Shyness had been mistaken for cowardice by the other boys. Schoolwork came easily, but the bullying didnt. He never fought back; he knew he was weaker. Even in PE, no matter how hard he tried, the coachs mocking killed any spirit he had. As for sports clubs, his mother had been firm: “I didnt raise a clever boy just so he could learn to break noses.”

Timidity held him back there too, and his dream of being strong lost another round. His mother rarely put her foot downusually, she was all warmth and softness, smothering him with affection. So much so that hed fled straight into the army after school. Two years later, he returned a trained athlete, a promising boxer. The delicate, shy boy had turned into a solid contender for a regional titlemuch to his mothers dismay and his sports colleges delight.

University opened a new lifecompetitions, dormitories, new mates. And a new problem: girls. Boxing trophies didnt cure his shyness. Asking a girl out at twenty was as terrifying as at ten. Until Ellie.

Eleanor was the colleges rising stara champion diver, tall and fair with green eyes. Sharp but quiet, lost in her own world, earning her the nickname “Spacegirl.” They became friends instantly.

They could walk for hours without a word, cheer each other on at meets. After their first kiss, he proposed straight away. Their “alien wedding” was celebrated by the whole year. Everyone loved them for their kindness.

A year later, Ellie took a breakpregnancy. He started evening shifts at Kings Cross, hauling cargo. Oddly, it was then he first felt truly strongnot from lifting sacks, but from knowing he could provide, raise his children. He was strong, and he had her.

Ellie worried endlessly, but the doctor reassured herthe pregnancy was fine. “Only one thing might upset you,” he joked. “If you dont like kids, its twice as badyoure having twins.”

At night, they dreamed togetherhow the boys would grow, what theyd be like, the seaside house theyd buy. But thats what nights are fordreaming.

The day before the birth, she took his hand and made him promise: “Whatever happens, dont leave them.” He wanted to protest, but her eyes stopped him. He just nodded.

The labour was long, brutal. She was unconscious for nearly a day, the doctors baffled by the bleeding. By the time they understood, it was too late.

He doesnt remember that night. Woke at dawn on Kings Cross station floor, sick, head pounding. Booze still in his veins, but one thought sobered him instantlytwo boys were waiting.

He finished college well but quit competing. The sports board gave him a flat, where he raised the “lads.” At first, his mum helped, then they managed alone. He coached at local clubs, but once the boys started school, he joined as their PE teacher. Still worked Kings Crosswhat kind of wage does a school coach earn? Though hed stopped hauling cargo; now he supervised.

Life settled, but the weight never lifted. He wanted to talk, but without Ellie, he felt mute.

Once, mates tried setting him up. He couldnt last an hour. One girl would look like her, another would tuck her hair the same way…

Then he started talking to her at night. Angry at firstwhy could he speak but not feel her? Then it became habit. Sharing, asking advice. Like last nightthe boys bragged about top marks in their exams.

“I told them men dont boast. That its shameful not to aim for top marks. But inside? I was chuffed. Theyre growing up rightclever, strong, decent… My old army coach used to say, ‘Courage is the art of being scared stiffand not showing it.’ Im scared to spoil them, to seem soft. Ive never even said I love them… But they know, dont they, Ellie?”

For a second, he nearly got up to hug them, tell them how much they meant. But he didntit was night, best not wake them.

The kitchen was chilly. Minus five outsidea dry winter, just missing snow. An old woman from the second floor swept the yard, muttering to herself.

The “lads” burst in. The elder twin, born five minutes earlier, put the kettle on. The younger grabbed the frying panhis turn to cook breakfast.

Then one nudged the other. Awkwardly, they hugged him.

“Dad… We know you talk to Mum sometimes. Tell her… we dont remember her much, but we love her loads. And you too, Dad.”

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Good Morning, My Love.
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