Chapter 46: The Roots of the Peat House

Chapter 46: The Roots of the Peat House

As the months passed, as my belly grew and betrayed the multiplied miracle I carried inside, Ethan began to worry about space. One day, while I was reviewing plans and options at the kitchen table, he proposed that I look for a bigger house, a spacious place in Akureyri to receive the five of them. I looked at him, put the cutlery aside and took his hand firmly to curb his protective anxiety.

"Ethan, I don't want to leave this house," I explained, caressing the rustic wood of the counter. For fifteen years I lived in a huge structure where I felt like a stranger. This little house with green roofs is the first property in my entire life that gave me a real home, the first one that I felt was mine. This is where our thing was born. It is here that we father our children, and it is here that I want to see them take their first steps.

Ethan was silent, processing my words, and his blue eyes were flooded with a clean tenderness. He understood that home is not measured in square meters, but in the peace that is breathed inside.

It didn't take long for us to confirm that we were expecting two boys and a girl. One afternoon, sitting at the foot of the fireplace, I took out a small notebook where I had been researching names that had a deep connection to our Celtic and Nordic roots, looking for words that had the weight of our own history.

"I chose three names, Ethan," I said, showing him the sheet. If you don't like them, tell me and we look for others. For our little girl, I thought of Eatha, a name of Irish and Scottish origin that means "life and sustenance"; it's an ideal unisex option that evokes creation and flourishing. For one of the children, I thought of Finn, from great Celtic tradition, which means "fair, bright and clear", symbolizing the clarity and new beginnings that we find together in this north.

I paused for a long time and took both of his hands, fixing my gaze on his.

"And for our other child, I want him to be called Aodh." It is a traditional Irish name associated with fire, closely linked to rebirth and renewal. I love this name, Ethan, because I want our son to carry it in memory of his unborn brother. In it... He will live the memory of that piece of your soul that remained in the past. Is that okay with you?

Ethan froze. The air in the room seemed to stop as a lone tear ran down his cheek. He could not speak; The emotion closed his throat. He just nodded slowly, leaned over to me, and kissed me with sacred devotion.

"Our four children together," he whispered against my lips, hugging my belly with both palms.

"The four of us together, my love," I replied, sealing the pact of our definitive family.