My five ghostly husbands-Chapter 368 Mischief

He laughed and blushed when Leo teased him that maybe he was the most spoiled one of them all now. Julian brought him a fruit juice, and Karl pretended to steal the cake topper when no one was looking — only to get scolded and fed a big slice instead. Adrian even sat behind Milo, carefully braiding a small strand of his hair while pretending he wasn’t doing anything at all.

Nothing was better than the comfort of his own home. After two long weeks in that cold hospital room, Milo finally lay curled up in his soft bed, wrapped in his warm yellow blanket with his big teddy bear tucked right beside him. Even though his wife had arranged the best room for him at the hospital, with new sheets and flowers and everything, he still never felt fully comfortable there. Home was different. Here, the air smelled like familiar detergent and the wooden walls and floor creaked in the same old way when someone walked past his door.

That night, when the lamp was turned down, Milo peeked over his bear’s furry head and saw Adrian’s eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Milo’s voice came out small and sleepy. "Good night, brother Adi." fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

Adrian turned to him, his dark eyes warm in the dim light. In his deep, soft voice, he said back, "Night."

Milo smiled to himself, snuggled closer to his bear, and drifted off to sleep without fear.

***

Even though Milo was finally back home, he still needed a lot of care. The healer had told Ruby to make sure he didn’t get tired, didn’t run around too much, and never missed his medicine. So Milo didn’t do any heavy work at all.

The only thing he did and he loved it — was watering the Mistvine he had planted behind the house. Ruby had helped him choose a nice spot near the back wall where there was a little roof to give it shade. Every morning, Milo would pull on his slippers, pick up his green watering can, and stand there for a long while, humming softly as he gave each vine a careful drink.

Ruby would come out to peek at him with soft eyes. Sometimes Julian would come behind Milo and remind him not to stay out too long. But Milo always gave a little smile and said, "I’m okay..."

When he was done, he would go back inside the house and sit on the floor with his sketchbook resting on his knees. Milo had found something new in himself after the surgery — he loved to draw. He found that during his hospital stay; when he couldn’t say what he felt inside, he could pick up a pencil and make it appear on paper instead.

Ruby had noticed how serious he looked, bent over each page, and she couldn’t help it — she went out and bought him a whole box of different colours. Some were soft pastels, some were thick crayons, some tiny ink bottles with shiny gold tops. When she handed them to him, Milo just blinked up at her, his big eyes round like a puppy’s. Then he hugged the box to his chest like it was the best gift in the world.

And from then on, Milo never just scribbled. He didn’t draw just for fun. If Milo drew a flower, he really saw that flower. If he drew a tree, he looked at every tiny line of bark. He focused so hard that sometimes his forehead wrinkled and his lips puckered up. He didn’t want to make anything carelessly — he wanted each drawing to be right. If something felt off, he erased it and fixed it again and again until it looked like how he felt inside.

So in all those days back home, he had only finished five pieces. But everyone loved them. Especially his third drawing — the one he made when he was still in the hospital bed.

That drawing was simple. A white flower, its soft petals spreading out on a blank page, no colours except the faint shadows Milo drew with the side of his pencil. There was nothing else on the page — no grass, no sky, no extra lines, just that one bloom. But if you looked at it for a while, you could feel it. The tiny flicker of fear, the way the flower still opened up anyway, like it was trying to catch the light.

***

Julian, Karl, and Milo were alone at home that afternoon. The house was quiet except for the soft clatter of dishes and the gentle swoosh of water as Julian cleaned up in the kitchen. Now and then, he’d peek into the living room to check on Milo, who was curled up under a warm blanket on the sofa, half-asleep and hazy from his medicine. The boy’s soft breathing blended with the faint tick of the wall clock.

But Karl — well, Karl could never sit still for long. His eyes darted around like a mischief-hungry cat until they landed on Ruby’s room. He knew she was busy outside for a while. A grin tugged at his lips. Just a peek, he told himself, tiptoeing in like a little thief.

Her laptop sat on the corner table, shiny and closed, practically calling his name. Karl slipped it into his lap like it was some forbidden fruit and opened the lid slowly. His round blue eyes widened when the login screen popped up.

Password.

"Hmph," he pouted, drumming his fingers on the keys. "Password, password..." He pressed random keys first, a mash of letters and numbers, but the screen just blinked at him coldly.

He squinted at the keyboard. He knew what a password was. That magical thing that could unlock your phone, your laptop, your soul if you were lucky enough. He snorted at his own joke and bit his lip, trying to remember.

Wait — he did know Ruby’s password. He’d seen her type it once when he was snuggling against her arm pretending to nap. His eyes lit up as the memory flickered back. 4080! His grin stretched ear to ear. He poked the numbers in, tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth.

Click. The screen unlocked.

"Hehehe..." he giggled, bouncing a little on Ruby’s chair as the home screen loaded. By now, he’d figured out the basic things — he knew how to open the browser, how to click on icons, how to search for games. He cracked his knuckles dramatically.

To be continued...🪄

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