Edwin hummed softly as he prepared their breakfast. Porridge with honey, just how little Anna liked it. He stirred the bowl carefully, making sure it was the perfect temperature.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” he whispered, settling into the rocking chair beside her bed. Anna’s glassy eyes stared past him toward the window where morning light filtered through nursery curtains. She looked so peaceful.
He spooned the porridge gently between her pale lips, wiping away what dribbled down her chin with a soft cloth. “There’s my good girl. Daddy’s here.”
William stirred in the next cot, his small hand shifting against the blanket. Edwin smiled. The boy was always restless during feeding time.
“Patience, William. Your turn is coming.”
Edwin had been caring for them for three years now. The authorities said he was unfit, tried to take them away, but Edwin knew better. Children needed consistency. Love. Someone who would never abandon them.
He moved to Charlotte’s cradle, adjusting her tiny dress. The flowers he’d embroidered on the collar were still bright pink, even after all these visits to the preparation room downstairs. The formaldehyde kept everything fresh.
“Story time,” Edwin announced, pulling the worn copy of The Secret Garden from the shelf. Anna’s favourite. He’d read it seventeen times this month, but children loved repetition.
As he read, Edwin watched their beautiful faces in the soft light. Perfect porcelain features that would never age, never change, never leave him. The social workers would never understand his devotion. How could they comprehend the purity of love that preserved rather than abandoned?
William’s eye had clouded slightly. Edwin made a mental note to adjust the solution concentration during tonight’s maintenance. He’d learned so much about preservation since finding his calling.
“The end,” Edwin whispered, closing the book. “Time for your nap, my darlings.”
He kissed each forehead tenderly. Anna. William. Charlotte. George. Little Beth in the corner crib. All his treasures, safe forever in their eternal nursery.
Tomorrow they would need fresh flowers. The roses by their bedside were beginning to wilt, though his precious children would never fade.
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