Chapter 1249
Jeff looked up, clutching Beatrice protectively, and took two small steps backward.
“Grandpa, you’re… kinda old. What if your hands shake? You might drop her.”
The audacity. Ruben’s face turned the color of an overripe tomato. He lifted his cane, ready to give the boy a good scare—but froze midway. His eyes landed on the baby’s peaceful face. The thought of startling her drained the fight right out of him.
The fury drained from Ruben’s weathered features, replaced by a strained smile that looked almost painful to produce.
“Jeff,” he said, his voice softening to something almost tender, “I can manage it perfectly well.”
The transformation happened in a single heartbeat—from fearsome patriarch to doting grandfather.
Ruben understood with perfect clarity that raising his voice would only frighten Jeff, and he couldn’t risk Jeff’s grip faltering on the baby.
Jeff didn’t pause to question the abrupt shift in his grandfather’s demeanor. Still genuinely concerned that Ruben might fumble and drop Beatrice, he glanced toward the waiting sofa.
“Grandpa, why don’t you sit down first? Once you’re comfortable and properly settled, then I’ll give her to you.”
Not daring to push further, Ruben obeyed without protest. The man who had charged forward moments ago now retreated meekly to the sofa, pride swallowed whole.
After lowering himself firmly onto the cushions and setting his cane within easy reach, Ruben extended his arms toward Jeff with unmistakable yearning written across his face.
“There. All arranged perfectly. Now, hurry up and let me hold her.”
Running out of reasonable excuses, Jeff reluctantly surrendered Beatrice to Ruben’s waiting, trembling arms.
The instant Ruben received Beatrice, years seemed to fall away from him like shed skin. He lavished her with praise, celebrating her beauty, her thick crown of hair, her impossibly smooth skin, and her perfectly shaped eyebrows. In his eyes, she embodied absolute perfection.
He cooed and praised without pause, pressing kiss after enthusiastic kiss to her velvet cheeks until all the devoted attention finally roused her from peaceful sleep.
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A clear, piercing cry suddenly sliced through the living room’s comfortable warmth.
A collective gasp rippled through the gathered family. Beatrice was crying. Everyone froze in place like statues, uncertain how to comfort her distress.
But Ruben merely smiled, utterly untroubled. He patted Beatrice’s back with gentle, rhythmic strokes, murmuring near her delicate ear. Almost miraculously, her cries faded into blessed silence. A moment later, she wasn’t simply quiet—she was beaming with delight.
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