Watersports

Chapter One Hundred & Sixteen: Part Four: Morning didn’t arrive all at once—it slipped in gently, sunlight filtering through the curtains in thin ribbons of gold that stretched across the soft teal walls, across the rail bed, across Paul’s face, and yet his eyes were already open, wide and still, staring upward at the slow, steady spin of the mobile above him, the soft lullaby chiming in quiet loops as something deeper moved behind his gaze—regression, regret… and maybe, just maybe, the fragile outline of something new he could still build.   As he shifted, the sensation grounded him immediately—the thick, undeniable weight between his legs, present in a way that didn’t ask permission—and then it happened, quietly, naturally, his body releasing without warning, warmth spreading and vanishing just as quickly into the layers beneath him, and Paul froze for a beat before his hand moved down instinctively, pressing lightly at the front of his pajama pants… dry, completely dry, and that tiny, almost disbelieving smile crept across his lips as if he’d just proven something to himself he didn’t quite have the words for.   His fingers lingered there for a second longer before his eyes drifted to his left arm, still loosely clutching both his Batman and Long Knight plushies, their soft edges tucked protectively against his ribs, and the moment his attention landed there, the pain followed, sharp and immediate, like something hot and jagged pushing outward from the inside, his breath catching as the numbness from yesterday vanished completely, replaced by something raw and alive, something that reminded him exactly where he was in this moment, and for a second the instinct flickered—call out… ask for help—but it never made it past his throat because another part of him had already taken over, scanning, adjusting, finding.   Next to the rail bed sat the nightstand, and there it was—the sippy cup, half full, and the bottle of extra strength Tylenol his dad had left the night before—and slowly, carefully, Paul shifted again, looping his legs over the side of the bed, his fingers curling lightly around the wooden rail for balance as he leaned forward, a quiet gasp slipping free despite himself as his feet met the floor, the weight of standing sending another ripple of pain through his side as his hand trembled toward the bottle, twisting the childproof cap with stubborn persistence until it finally gave, the soft rattle of two tablets falling into his palm sounding louder than it should have in the quiet room.   He didn’t hesitate—he grabbed the sippy cup and washed them down in one long, steady gulp, the motion simple, practiced, grounding—and as his stomach answered with a low rumble, something else stirred faster, louder, pulling at him from somewhere deeper, because the room wasn’t just a bedroom… not really… it was a playroom, and the Batcave sat just a few feet away, frozen mid-battle from the night before, waiting exactly where he’d left it.   His “big” side tried—it really did—steady, reasonable, it’s breakfast time… we can play later, but the smaller voice pushed back immediately, softer but sharper in its own way, nooo… we pway now… pway make ouchies go away… inside and outside, and Paul exhaled slowly, jaw tightening just a bit as he answered himself under his breath, no buddy, first we gotta eat then maybe after— but the little voice snapped louder this time, stubborn and certain, fine! we eat!   Except he didn’t leave the room.   Instead, his body turned back to the nightstand where the small bowl still sat untouched, yesterday’s animal crackers and yogurt chews waiting like they’d been placed there for this exact moment, and he scooped them up by the handful, one after another, chewing quickly, swallowing almost defiantly, crumbs catching at the corners of his mouth as his head gave a small, satisfied nod, see… we eated… now it’s pwaytime, the words muffled slightly as he instinctively slipped his pacifier back into his mouth, the familiar pressure easing something deep in his jaw as he turned, grabbed the sippy cup, and tossed it lightly toward the Batcave.   He waddled back to the bed, gathering his Batman and Long Knight plushies along with a pillow before lowering himself carefully to the floor, easing down slowly, deliberately, until he was seated, the pillow cushioning his descent as he took a sharp breath in and out, his right hand instinctively cradling his side until the edge of the pain dulled just enough to let something else take over—and when he looked down at the small Imaginext Batman figure in his hand, the one modeled after the 1989 film, the first “real” Batman he ever remembered seeing, something inside him shifted completely.   The Batcave wasn’t plastic anymore. It was alive.   The cave lights flickered on in his mind—blue consoles humming, shadows stretching long across stone walls as Robin darted forward, his voice bright and eager, “I’ve got the left side, Batman!” his small figure flipping between platforms as Batman followed with grounded precision, “Stay focused, Robin—they’re testing our defenses,” and Paul’s hands moved faster now, more fluid, bringing figures together in sharp collisions, the soft clack-clack of plastic echoing like real combat as goons flooded the entrance, one climbing the side wall only for Robin to kick him back down, “Not today!”   Across the cave, Batgirl leaned over the console, fingers tapping rapidly as Paul mimicked the sound with his tongue against the pacifier, “I’m sealing the east tunnel—just hold them off!” her head snapping up just as the alarms shifted pitch—lower now, more dangerous—   BOOM!   Paul’s whole body flinched with the explosion he created, the side of the Batcave bursting open in his imagination as dust and debris rained down, Two-Face stepping through with slow, deliberate menace, his voice deeper, heavier, dragging each word, “BRUUUCE… we know who you are…” a sharp BANG! as Paul slammed a figure into the console, sparks flying in his mind as Batgirl cried out, falling back, her cape tangling as she hit the ground.   From above— A laugh. High. Sharp. Twisted.   “Riddle me this! Riddle me that!” The Riddler swung down, landing behind Robin with a flourish, his voice almost playful, “What disappears the moment you say its name?”   Robin hesitated. “…uh—”   CRACK.   Paul’s hand jerked as Riddler’s staff struck from behind, Robin dropping to the ground, and Paul leaned forward instinctively, the pacifier bobbing as he mumbled around it, “nooo—watch out—” before shifting immediately, Batman stepping into the shadows, voice low, controlled, “You’ve made a mistake coming here.”   A smoke bomb. PSSSH. The cave went dark.   Paul’s fingers moved fast now, Batman vanishing and reappearing, striking from the darkness, one hit—two—Three—Riddler stumbling back, Two-Face turning wildly, firing into nothing, “SHOW YOURSELF!”   But the ground trembled. Heavier this time. Deeper.   The floor cracked beneath them as Clayface rose up, massive and shifting, while Killer Croc lunged forward with a guttural roar, knocking Batman and Batgirl back hard enough that Paul’s breath caught in his chest, his body leaning with the motion, feeling it, living it—   Until— THUD.   Nightwing dropped in from above, landing clean, spinning into Croc with a sharp strike that sent him reeling back, “Miss me?” his voice lighter, cocky, and Batman’s reply came instantly, even as he pushed himself back to his feet, “Took you long enough.”   “Hey—no cape, no toys, remember?” Nightwing shot back, rolling his shoulders, “Plus—I brought backup.”   “What backup?”   And then the sky broke open. Paul’s eyes widened, his whole body leaning forward now, completely gone into it as Superman descended first, cape snapping behind him, Green Lantern forming a glowing construct mid-air, Wonder Woman landing with a force that shook the cave itself—and Paul’s voice rose with it, muffled but excited, “they here… they gonna save—” his hands moving faster, bringing every piece of the battle together, every hero stepping in, every villain pushed back as the tide turned, as the Batfamily stood together—stronger now, not alone—   “Okay sweety…” The door opened. Reality followed.    Lilly stepped in, her voice warm, grounding, cutting gently through the chaos as it all folded back into place around him, “it’s time to stop savin the day and at least start it with a nice yogurt shake…” she paused mid-step, her nose scrunching as her hand lifted instinctively, waving the air in front of her face, the safari-themed bib dangling loosely from her fingers as her expression shifted into something between amused and very aware, “…oh… pew… ew… wow…”   Her eyes landed fully on him now—on the floor, on the toys, on the little battlefield still scattered around him—and her tone softened just a touch, a hint of a smile threading through it despite everything.   “Paul…” she said gently, tilting her head just slightly, “…did you make a stinky diaper?”   Lilly’s voice—soft, teasing, grounded in that familiar rhythm of care—“…stinky diaper…”—lingered in the air for just a beat longer than it should have, hanging there like a thread connecting one moment to the next…   …and then—   “Stinky diaper or not,” Bryan’s voice cut in, steady, practical, threaded with quiet resolve, “I just figured it was best that we use two stuffers instead of one for his nighttime diapers moving forward.”   The world shifted. The playroom dissolved into warm morning light and polished stone as we found them seated across from one another at the kitchen island—two parents, two coffees, two plates carefully prepared with the kind of precision that didn’t just feed the body, but anchored the day itself.   Steam curled lazily from their mugs, rich and dark, while breakfast sat plated like something out of a magazine spread—thick slices of toasted sourdough, lightly buttered, the edges crisped to a golden brown. Resting atop each slice was a delicate layer of arugula, dressed just enough to glisten, followed by neatly arranged tomato rounds and creamy avocado slices fanned with intention. And crowning it all—two perfectly poached eggs, their whites set, their centers still soft, nestled beside two links of turkey sausage that carried a subtle char.   Lilly moved first. Knife in hand, she pressed gently into the top of one egg—and the yolk broke open instantly, spilling out in a rich, vibrant cascade of golden yellow that ran slowly across the plate, pooling against the sausage like liquid sunlight.   She smiled before the bite even reached her lips. And when it did— That smile deepened.   Bryan watched her, something soft and grateful settling behind his eyes as he reached across the island, his fingers wrapping gently around her free hand, giving it a small, affectionate squeeze before leaning forward just enough to press a kiss against her knuckles.   “Thank you,” he said quietly. “This is… incredible.”   Lilly’s smile answered him before her voice did.   But Bryan was already shifting gears, his mind moving the way it always did—forward, planning, protecting.   “Changing subjects,” he added, a small smirk tugging at his lips, “pardon the pun—but let’s talk about Utah.”   Lilly arched a brow, intrigued.   “So,” Bryan continued, taking a bite—egg, sausage, bread all together—before speaking again, “I’ve got some really amazing news. I know we were both kinda worried about flying commercial… especially with Paul’s condition. And honestly? Who wants to deal with those lines, the connections… the whole circus.”   “Yeah,” Lilly cut in, swallowing her bite with a knowing nod, “especially when you have to shoot a TikTok mid-flight just to stay relevant.”   Bryan chuckled.   “Well then I’m glad we can save that ‘layover look,’ because…”—he leaned back slightly, letting it land—“…the studio approved it.”   Lilly blinked.   “…approved what?”   “The plane.”   There it was.   “The same private jet that took me to Japan?” Bryan said, a quiet pride threading his tone now. “We get it for Utah. Both ways. Studio signed off on it—call it a holiday bonus.”   Lilly didn’t respond right away. Because for a moment—she couldn’t.   Her hand lifted to her mouth, eyes widening as the weight of it sank in—the relief, the ease, the removal of one more obstacle from an already fragile situation.   “…Bryan…” she breathed, shaking her head softly, “…that’s… that’s incredible.”   He smiled.   “Yeah… figured it would make things a little smoother.”   “Smoother?” she laughed lightly, the tension in her shoulders finally easing, “Bryan, that’s a dream compared to what we were bracing for.”   She paused—then leaned forward slightly.   “Did you tell Paul yet?”   Bryan shook his head, cutting into another bite.   “No… figured we’d wait for dinner tonight. Let it be a surprise.”   Lilly nodded, warmth blooming in her chest.   “That’s a fantastic idea. He’s going to be so relieved… not having to deal with crowds on top of everything else.”   She took another bite—then continued, her tone shifting just slightly back into that careful, logistical cadence.   “Speaking of Utah… I finished final prep with the villa.”   Bryan’s eyes flicked up.   “Yeah?”   “Yeah,” she nodded. “I asked about a rail for the bed Paul’s going to be using…”   A beat.   “They have one in stock.”   Bryan exhaled softly.   “That’s… excellent.”   But the word didn’t carry all the way through him. Because Lilly saw it—the shift. That subtle dimming behind his eyes. The smile that didn’t quite hold. Her fork lowered slowly.   “What’s wrong?”   She reached across the island again, her fingers brushing over the back of his hand before settling there, thumb gently stroking, grounding him the way she always had.   Bryan didn’t answer right away.   Instead, he stared down at his plate for a moment… then past it… somewhere deeper.   “Honestly…” he started, voice quieter now, heavier, “after I got Paul back to sleep last night… I couldn’t go back to bed.”   Lilly’s grip tightened slightly.   “So I went across the hall… got on the rower. Just… needed to clear my head.”   A pause. His jaw tightened.   “I’m just… pissed, Lill.”   The word landed hard.   “I thought I was over it,” he continued, voice building now, not loud—but sharp. “After Mindy’s diagnosis. I thought I accepted it… after everything. After changing him… after seeing him fight his way back—”   His hand clenched slightly under hers.   “I thought he was getting there. The recovery. The stage. The passion…”   His voice cracked—just barely.   “And then…”   A breath.   “…then I watched my son broken. Again.”   Lilly’s eyes softened instantly.   “He fought so hard to keep it together,” Bryan went on, shaking his head slowly, “to keep hope alive… and then that pissant had the audacity to screw him over like that.”   The anger was there now. Raw. Unfiltered.   “If I could’ve gotten my hands on him—” Bryan muttered, voice dropping low, dangerous, “I would’ve dragged him by his pencil neck and snapped him in half before he ever got the chance to run.”   Lilly didn’t interrupt. She let him feel it. Let him say it.   “And then Amber…”   That one hit differently.   “She tells us the truth…” he continued, quieter now—but deeper. “The kid who’s been bullying Paul for three years… shaming him into silence…”   He looked up at Lilly now.   “…is the same one she’s planning to marry.”   The words hung heavy.   “I don’t know where to put it, Lill,” he admitted. “The anger I’ve got for Marcus… the disappointment I’ve got for Amber…”   A beat.   “After everything I did for her. After everything you did for her…”   His voice dropped even further.   “There are moments… where I don’t even want to see her again.”   Silence. Then—   “I mean I get love is blind…” he added bitterly, “…but I don’t remember it being that stupid.”   Lilly’s eyes welled—not from anger… but recognition.   “Bryan…” she said softly.   He saw it immediately. And regret followed just as fast.   “Oh—Lill, I didn’t mean—”   But she shook her head gently, already moving around the island, stepping into him, wrapping her arms around him as he stood to meet her.   “I know what you meant,” she whispered.   Her voice didn’t break—but it carried weight.   “Love can be a lot of things… kind… charming… brutal… physical… painful…”   Bryan held her tighter.   “I didn’t mean you,” he murmured into her hair.   “I know,” she said again.   And she meant it. She pulled back first. Collected. Strong.   “That girl…” she added softly, a small smile finding its way back, “…grew up. Found the man of her dreams a long time ago.”   Bryan smiled faintly.   “And she’s a lot smarter than she used to be,” Lilly continued. “And Martina?”   She shook her head.   “She wouldn’t let Amber stay with someone like Marcus if he was truly as bad as Samson was.”   Bryan nodded slowly.   Still processing.   “So…” Lilly added, stepping back toward the island, “…when Martina comes by tomorrow… I’ll talk to her.”   He blinked.   “You would?”   She shrugged lightly.   “Maybe Amber and I can sit down. Just… talk.”   Bryan studied her.   “You’d be willing to share that?”   A small pause.   “I don’t know,” Lilly admitted honestly. “…but it couldn’t hurt to ask.”   Then— A flicker of fire returned to her eyes.   “And if Marcus is anything like Samson…” she added, voice sharpening just slightly, “…you’re gonna have to wait your turn.”   Bryan blinked.   “…what?”   “Because I want to kick his ass first.”   The tension cracked. Just enough. They both smiled. And for a second—it felt lighter.   Until—Lilly glanced down at her watch.   “…shit.”   Bryan frowned.   “What?”   “It’s nearly 8:30—he hasn’t eaten yet. And I have to meet Hiliary at ten.”   Bryan blinked.   “Wait—I thought he had?”   Lilly shook her head, already moving, already shifting into motion.   “No. He’s been in his room all morning… playing.”   She slid the tablet across the island. Bryan tapped the screen. And there he was. Paul. On the floor. Lost in it. Batman. The cave. The fight. Bryan smiled—just a little.   “…and that’s all he’s been doing?”   Lilly was already pulling ingredients from the fridge—Greek yogurt, milk, frozen blackberries, fresh strawberries, kale, protein powder—moving with practiced efficiency.   “Yes and no,” she replied, tossing everything into the blender. “I got up around seven… rewound the nanny cam. He’s been up since 7:30.”   The blender roared to life.   “He ate some snacks from last night… I think he took more Tylenol… and he’s been playing ever since.”   She turned it off. Reached up for the safari-themed bottle and bib. Carefully poured the shake. Screwed the top on.   “Here’s the plan,” she said, already heading for the door. “I’m gonna get him fed… probably changed… then into our shower.”   She looked back.   “Can you—”   “Of course,” Bryan said instantly, standing. “I’ll get him changed, head upstairs with him. I’ve got remote work I can do… and I’m sure he’s itching to get online again.”   “Perfect.”   “I’ll pull out steaks for later.”   Lilly smiled.   Leaning in— She kissed him gently on the cheek.   “See you after lunch.”   And with that— She turned the corner. Heart fluttering just slightly. Stepping into Paul’s room— Back into his world.   “Oh… pewww… ew… wow…” Lilly’s voice softened as quickly as it had reacted, the brief scrunch of her nose melting into something far more familiar, far more instinctive as her eyes settled fully on him, “…Paul… did you make a stinky diaper?”   Paul froze.   Not completely—his hands were still mid-motion, Batman locked in a dramatic standoff with Riddler, the echoes of the Batcave still alive in his mind—but something inside him stalled, caught between worlds, the little side still buzzing with excitement while the bigger part of him felt that slow, creeping heat rise up his neck, that quiet, familiar embarrassment settling in before he even fully understood why.   “Stinky…?” he mumbled around the pacifier, the word soft, uncertain, shaped wrong in his mouth in a way that made it feel smaller than it should have been.   It wasn’t denial. It was confusion. Because he hadn’t been thinking about it at all. Not really.   His body had done what it did, the moment had passed, and he’d gone right back to saving Gotham without a second thought—but now, with Lilly there, with her eyes on him, with her voice pulling him back into the present, he shifted slightly where he sat, almost instinctively rocking back just a little, testing, feeling—and there it was.   That extra weight. That soft, undeniable squish. Paul stilled.   Then his face flushed instantly, color rising quick and deep as the realization landed fully this time, his hands dropping slightly from the Batcave setup as his shoulders hunched just a fraction inward, the pacifier bobbing once as he swallowed around it. Lilly saw it all. Every piece of it. And her expression didn’t tighten or sharpen—it softened. Immediately. Completely.   “Ohhh sweetheart…” she murmured, already lowering herself down, already closing the distance between them as she settled onto her knees with an ease that spoke to how natural this had become, how practiced, how intentional.   Her outfit moved with her—effortlessly styled, a balance of structure and softness, a fitted cream knit top tucked into tailored high-waisted slacks, a light camel blazer draped open over her shoulders, sleeves slightly pushed up, gold accents catching the morning light just enough to feel polished without trying too hard. It was business. It was comfort. It was control.   And now—it was care.   “That’s okay,” she continued, her tone dipping gently into that soothing cadence, her hand coming up to brush lightly over his hair, grounding him before anything else, “Mommy’s gonna get you out of your poopy pants very, very soon…” she emphasized the words just slightly, the baby talk soft but deliberate, not demeaning—anchoring. “…but first…”   She reached for the pillow beside him.   “…you need something in your tummy.”   Paul shifted again, smaller this time, quieter, his attention flickering back toward the Batcave, toward the figures still mid-battle as if he could slip back into it before she fully pulled him away—but Lilly was already moving, already guiding the moment forward with a calm, practiced grace that didn’t rush him… but didn’t stop either.   “Come here, baby,” she said softly, lifting the pillow and settling it into her lap before gently guiding him backward, one hand steady at his shoulder, the other supporting him as she leaned him down slowly, carefully, his head coming to rest against the pillow as his body stretched out across the soft carpet and foam mats beneath him.   The room shifted again. The battle paused. And now it was just them.   Lilly reached for the safari bib next, the familiar pattern bright and soft as she fastened it gently around his neck, smoothing it into place with careful fingers before lifting the bottle, the berry shake inside still cool, still fresh, condensation beading lightly against the sides.   She looked down at him then—really looked at him—and there it was.   That quiet glow.   That mix of focus, care, approval—something deeply maternal that settled over her expression without effort as she guided the bottle slowly toward his lips.   But Paul wasn’t ready. Not yet. As the nipple brushed against his mouth, he turned his head instinctively, lips pressing together around the pacifier, avoiding it once… then again, a soft little huff slipping out as he angled himself away, his attention still caught somewhere between play and resistance, between wanting control and not quite knowing how to hold onto it.   Lilly paused. Not frustrated. Not surprised.   Just… aware. She could see it. Smell it. Feel the moment tipping in that direction again. And gently—but more firmly now—she adjusted. Her hand came up, steadying his cheek as she leaned in just slightly, her voice shifting, still soft, still warm—but carrying something unmistakable beneath it now.   Authority.   “Now, now, mister…” she murmured, a small shake of her head accompanying the words, “…we are not starting this again.”   Paul stilled. Not out of fear. Out of recognition.   “Your body needs fuel to get the day started right,” she continued, her thumb brushing lightly along his cheek as she guided his face back toward her, the bottle still poised patiently in her other hand, “and this yummy berry protein shake is exactly what you’re going to drink…”   A small pause.   “Do you understand, honey?”   Her tone didn’t rise. It didn’t harden. But it held.   “This is happening right now, sweetheart.”   And that was the moment it clicked. The little side—still present, still soft—recognized it for what it was. Not a suggestion. Not a negotiation. A boundary. Paul’s resistance faded just enough, his body settling slightly against the pillow as the fight left him in small, quiet increments, his lips parting around the pacifier before he gave a tiny, almost reluctant nod, a muffled, barely-there response slipping out.   “…otay…”   Lilly smiled. Not triumphant. Just… warm.   “Good boy.”   And for the third time, she guided the bottle forward. This time—Paul latched. The shift was immediate, the rhythmic pull of suction taking over as he began to drink, slow at first, then steadier, the tension in his body easing just slightly with each swallow, the sweetness of the shake grounding him in a different way now, something calmer, something more controlled.   Above him, Lilly watched. Focused. Present. Her hand resting lightly against his shoulder as she held the bottle steady, her gaze soft but unwavering. The last drops of the yogurt shake disappeared with a final, contented suck before the scene changed to Paul lying back on the comforting surface of his changing table.  Lilly reached for the front of his pajama bottoms. Her fingers found the tapes of the full nighttime diaper with practiced ease, the soft riiiip of the first tab echoing in the quiet nursery.   “Such a messy boy,” she murmured, voice low and soothing, the baby talk gentle and natural, never forced. “But Mommy’s right here, honey. We’re gonna get you all cleaned up nice and quick.”   The second tab came free with another soft rip. Lilly worked with calm efficiency, her free hand resting reassuringly on Paul’s thigh.   “Hey…” she added gently, tilting her head just enough to catch his eyes again, grounding him there, “…no wiggling, honey. Mommy and Daddy got you something special…”   A small smile tugged at her lips.   “A wipey warmer.”   Her voice softened even further, almost conspiratorial now.   “…so you stay all comfy cozy.”   That landed. Paul’s body, which had been holding just a trace of tension, eased—just a little—as if the idea itself, the thought of comfort instead of cold, gave him something to settle into, something to trust. The little side still lingering close to the surface, but the big side was already stirring, the familiar routine pulling him back toward the adult world. The cool air met his skin as Lilly folded the soiled diaper away and disposed of it with a quick, discreet motion. She reached for the pajama bottoms—soft, patterned with playful safari prints against the white fabric and the yellow footies, and folded them neatly in front of him, the fabric still warm from his body. “Alright, baby…” she said softly, reaching forward now, offering both hands, “…arms to the sky, please.” Lilly reached out for Paul’s arms, helping him gently sit up. This was the moment the shift happened. Paul’s little side eased back, the big side stepping forward with quiet determination. He reached up and completely unclipped the pacifier from his top, setting it off to the side on the changing table with a small, deliberate click. The nipple left his mouth with a soft pop, and he felt the transition fully—regression fading, adulthood returning like a slow dawn. Paul exhaled softly, a faint huff slipping out as the last of the bottle left his system, his gaze dropping for a second before he lifted his right arm first, slower now, more intentional, the movement less automatic, more chosen as Lilly guided the sleeve off gently. His shoulders straightened just a fraction. His eyes cleared. And before she could reach for the other side—He leaned forward slightly.   “Thank you…” he said quietly, his voice still soft but no longer rounded, no longer blurred. “…I’ve got this next part.” She smiled stepping back just enough to give him space, her hands lowering as Paul finished the motion himself, pulling the pajama top free, the fabric catching briefly before slipping over his shoulders, his movements careful but his control returning with each second. He handed it back to her. And she took it without a word—just that same quiet, proud smile lingering as she turned slightly, unclasping the side of the changing table with one hand while keeping her attention on him, always on him.   “Easy…” she murmured as she reached back, offering support without taking over, guiding him gently down from the surface, his feet finding the floor with a soft, steady landing.   Then—The towel.   She handed it to him, and he took it without hesitation this time, wrapping it around his waist with a familiarity that grounded him further, pulling it secure as he exhaled slowly, the last traces of that earlier softness settling into something steadier. More present. More him. Lilly stepped in again just briefly—just enough to press a soft kiss to his cheek, her voice warm, steady, proud without overwhelming him.   “Go ahead and use the shower in the master suite,” she said gently. “Your Dad’ll get you set for the rest of the day after.”   A small pause.   “I’ll be back after lunch.”   Paul nodded. Then hesitated. Just slightly.   “Hey…” he started, his voice quieter again—but different now, not regressed, just… unsure. “When you get back…” he continued, shifting his weight just a little under the towel, “…would it be okay if we shot another video?”   Her brows lifted slightly—not in concern, but curiosity.  Paul looked down briefly before continuing.   “Nothing big… just… talking. About… all of this.”   He gestured vaguely—not just to himself, but to everything.   “The condition… the fight… how it feels…”   A small breath.   “I talked to Mindy about it… and it actually helped.”   He looked back up.   “Maybe… it helps someone else too.”   Then quickly—   “I don’t know if it’s a good idea or—” Lilly’s heart swelled with pride—not because Paul wanted to create more content, but because he felt comfortable enough to share this want with her. The ambitious woman she once was would have seen it as an opportunity for her own career, but this Lilly saw it as Paul reclaiming his voice, his story, his agency. He’s choosing to speak, she thought, the maternal love she had grown into over the months filling her chest. After everything—the hospital, the fight, the shame—he’s still choosing to reach out. My brave, brave boy.   “Absolutely.”   The word came without hesitation.   Firm. Certain. Warm.   Paul blinked. Lilly stepped in again, her hands resting lightly on his arms now, her expression not just supportive—but proud in a way that went deeper than anything surface-level.   “Absolutely, honey,” she repeated softly. “I think that’s a great idea.”   She smiled.   “Why don’t you type out what you want to say?”   A small nod.   “And when I get home…”   Her voice softened again.   “…we’ll record it together. Edit it. Upload it.”   Paul let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.   “…okay.”   Another small pause. Then he stepped forward— And hugged her. This time fully present. Fully aware.   “Have a good day,” he said quietly.   “You too, sweetheart.”   Another quick kiss. And just like that—They separated. Two paths. Same direction.   Paul turned right, heading down the hallway toward the master suite, towel secure, steps careful but steady. Lilly turned left, heels soft against the floor as she moved toward the garage, keys already in hand, her Range Rover waiting just beyond the door. In the kitchen, Bryan looked up from his coffee as Lilly passed, catching the proud glow in her eyes.

My thoughts are they probably have no stretch to them like all the other pampers nowadays. Pampers use to be wonderful when they made them stretchy . Same with the luvs. I use to wear both 24/7 ( went through several thousand over the years). I was quite fond of the pampers baby dry size 6 they were a very nice absorbent fit with no leaks. The size 6 and 7 Pampers cruisers, swaddlers, pures, and overnights along with the size 6 super absorbent luvs  and the luvs ultra leak guards plus the blue's clue with the bear hug stretch were also very nice.The size 7 luvs pro level leak protection were also nice when they first came out, (even when they first came out with the paw patrol). but not anymore because there not stretchy and don't fit me anymore. Today's Pampers and luvs suck now  As a result I have to wear Huggies snug and dry size 7 during the day and Huggies overnight size 7 for bed 24/7.  They are much stretchier and fit my 150 lb 32 inch waist just fine without any modifications and hold up well without any leaks. I find that there is not much difference between the size 7 vs the size 8. Therefore I wear the size 7.  Plus you get more for your money and the overnights aren't available in a size 8.  I also find the overnights do make a difference for bed as far as absorbency and leaks go. At least they do for me. That's my thoughts and opinion.                                        Huggies wearer 

Are any more stories in the works? ☺️

love this its the exact idea i want for my atm, BIG person bed twin sized. I wish the rails weren't so expensive but i get the point as to why they are. theyre high quality and you can slide down the side for access . also cheaper then a standard adult baby crib too my only complaint i wish it came in pink or purple. i hate grey tones lol

the northshore seem alot of money   to put on  2 pads per diaper  but  i will cheak  attends prices