Three Years Later, He Came Back Begging novel Chapter 438

Rolling over, sitting up, crawling—little Hayden hit every milestone with terrifying speed. His features slowly defined themselves, his skin so flawless and soft it practically demanded to be kissed. And whenever someone did kiss him, he would lay there on his stomach, his eyes crinkling into half-moons as he giggled, showing off his bright pink gums and the two tiny baby teeth poking through. It was ridiculously cute. If you gave him a few extra kisses, Hayden would wave his chubby little fists and let out excited, happy shrieks. His eyes and brow were a carbon copy of Lawrence's baby pictures, but the lower half of his face was pure Bonnie—striking and delicate. He was a breathtakingly beautiful baby. Everyone who met him instantly fell in love. Whether they were visiting his grandparents or grabbing dinner with Bonnie and Lawrence's friends, little Hayden couldn't escape without his cheeks being covered in kisses. People simply couldn't resist him. The grandparents treated him like a trophy, constantly showing him off. The two families had a shared WhatsApp group that was strictly dedicated to a constant flood of Hayden's photos and voice notes of the grandparents cooing over how perfect he was. Bonnie sometimes wanted to feign humility, but every time her son looked up at her with those dark, crystal-clear eyes—so like Lawrence's, yet somehow purer—and let out a bubbly laugh, her heart completely melted. Why pretend? Her son was going to grow up to be a heartthrob, definitely more handsome than his father. She was also increasingly convinced that his personality was nothing like hers, though it didn't quite match Lawrence's either. He was just too sweet. But as little Hayden grew—from the first time he unexpectedly rolled over, to shocking them by sitting straight up, to crawling at lightspeed across the floor, and finally stumbling and laughing as he crashed into his parents' arms—Bonnie realized his personality was shifting. Her sweet little Hayden had only been sweet during the clueless infant phase. At his core, he was a quiet, fiercely independent, and slightly aloof child. Once he learned to sit up and play on his own, he despised being held constantly. Lawrence had fenced off a massive section of the living room for him, and Hayden's favorite spot was right by the floor-to-ceiling windows, meticulously organizing his toys. June stood guard outside the playpen, his loyal, furry sentinel. When he got a bit older and could pull himself up on the railing, Hayden would actively plot "prison breaks" with the dog. Hayden walked early, but he was a late talker. At over a year old, he still only communicated in single syllables. "Mom." "Dad." He knew his own name, but could only manage to say the last syllable, making it sound like he was aggressively shouting "Yeah!" in his tiny, milky voice. Then, at eighteen months, Hayden experienced a massive language explosion. He went from single syllables to full phrases overnight. He even started dropping four-word phrases out of nowhere—probably something his grandmothers had aggressively coached him on. Regardless, he was talking, occasionally spouting baby babble that neither Bonnie nor Lawrence could decipher. Remembering how Helen's son, Leo Sutton, had been a total chatterbox the second he learned to speak, Bonnie had worried her son would be the same. She couldn't have been more wrong. Hayden was a man of few words. He only spoke when absolutely necessary, keeping his demands brief and expecting his parents to just figure it out. He rarely cried or threw tantrums. He was remarkably emotionally stable. Bonnie claimed this was a flawless inheritance of her own temperament, but Lawrence vehemently disagreed, insisting his son got his emotional stability from him. The debate ended with Lawrence throwing Bonnie over his shoulder and carrying her to the bedroom to "jog her memory" about all the times she had been completely unhinged with him. Unbothered, little Hayden was entirely used to his parents' antics. He just kept playing with his toys, fully committed to his own entertainment. He didn't even seem to like it when other people tried to play with him—it ruined the meticulous systems and rules he had established in his playpen. Other people just messed up his plans.