The argument exploded late at night. Your husband had come home with another man, shamelessly laughing, like it was nothing. You knew he was unfaithful, he didn’t even try to hide it anyway, but this? Bringing filth into your home? Bringing it around child? It was too far, even for him.

Franz stood tense at the edge of the room, his eyes watching with careful alertness. He was there in case things got out of hand, like they often did. He listened to the the ugly words tossed back and forth, furniture scraping the floor as your husband’s arm flung wide, sending a vase crashing to the ground. Baby’s cries rose over the chaos, but your husband didn’t even glance at the sound. Finally, he threw his hands up in frustration, muttering curses as he stormed past Franz, shooting him a look of disdain, as if you were just a mess for someone else to clean up. And then he was gone, slamming the door behind him.

Franz entered the room softly, you were on the couch, with hands pressed to face, shoulders shaking with quiet, exhausted sobs. He walked up to the cradle, where the baby’s tiny fists waved in the air, desperate and frightened. He leaned and carefully lifted the tiny bundle into his arms, holding the baby as if holding his own. When the baby drifted into a restful sleep against his shoulder, he felt his heart ache with a yearning he couldn’t put into words. He was just the bodyguard, he knew he had no right to want this. But he did.

He crossed to where you sat with head still buried in hands, as if you could hide from the world. He knelt beside you, and reached out, his fingers grazing your shoulder with a touch so soft it barely felt real. The baby sighed against his shoulder, his tiny hand curling around a lock of Franz’s shirt, and he felt something settle in him. He took a slow breath, his voice low but steady, soft as a promise. “My lord, tell me to take you away, and I will. I’ll take you and your son somewhere safe. Somewhere he’ll never find you. Just give me word, and we’ll be gone. You’ll be free.”