Chapter Sixty
Ciro
T he room is quiet except for the rhythmic beeping that comes from the machines monitoring every breath Vida takes and every beat of her heart. I sit beside her, her hand intertwined in mine, and even though her palm is warm against mine, I still feel cold. Empty. This silence between us is becoming unbearable.
It’s been three days. Three days we’ve stayed in this room and I watch her drift in and out of consciousness. Sometimes, she’ll wake up with tears rolling down her face and her hands clutching her belly like she is still trying to protect the life we’ve lost. Other times, she’ll just stare at the ceiling, silent and distant. She’s somehow slowly become a ghost of the woman who used to laugh, cry, and let her rage out on me without a second thought.
“Keep them away,” she whispered to me after she found out we’d lost our baby, “I can’t face anyone yet.”
So, I did just what she wanted. I stood guard, keeping everyone away, even as their worries got worse. I didn’t have the mental strength to explain to them what she wanted, but after the second day, they understood a little.
The world outside the room feels like another universe, a universe I am no longer a part of. My life, my business, my responsibilities, they didn’t matter here. All that matters is her.
I’d fallen asleep in the chair again, with my body numb and stiff. The sound of voices wakes me up. Their soft murmurs finally break the silence, and it takes me a moment to come to enough to realize who it is.
“Vida, I don’t even know where to begin. I’m so sorry. For everything.” Mrs. Brown’s voice cracks with emotion, unable to hide the guilt that dances on each word.
Mr. Brown’s tone is steadier but just as remorseful. “We are so sorry for what our . . . Adam did. For what he took . . .”
Adam. The mere mention of that bastard’s name makes my jaw clench, and fury course through my veins. How dare they come here, into this room, where Vida is still piecing herself together! How dare they bring his shadow into this makeshift sanctuary!
Fuck! It wasn’t their fault! I knew that, but how? How can I look at them and not think of that piece of garbage? Better yet? How can my wife?
I want to stand and tell them to leave, but I stop as I hear her voice.
“When I felt guilty and hated myself for what I thought I did . . . you held me,” she says in a soft tone. “You told me I was family, no matter what.”
Her words make me pause. Slowly, I turn my head, peeking through my lashes. She’s sitting upright, her face pale as she forces a smile with tears streaming down her cheeks. Even now, broken and grieving, she is still the most beautiful being that has ever graced this world. She is still so magnificent and utterly breathtaking, it makes me shed a tear just watching her.
“Adam was dead to me the moment I saw him die,” she continues with a more steady voice. “And I’ve always been your daughter. Don’t think for a second that any of that is going to change.”
I can’t tear my eyes away from her. This woman who has endured so much betrayal, grief, and now this, is still able to forgive, to find love in the ashes of her pain.
“I once loved Adam,” she admits, her voice softening.
Just hearing her say that out loud makes me want to go kiss that stupid comment out of her mouth. But I let her continue.
“And now? Maybe I do hate him. But you . . .” Her voice shakes before going back to a steady tone. “You’ll always be my family. Through every phase, nothing will change that.”
She opens her arms, and Mrs. Brown breaks down, rushing forward to embrace her. Mr. Brown follows, his large hands trembling as he holds onto Vida and his wife.
Lisa just stands there, either too guilty to move or too grateful.
“Sisters for forever, that was the promise. It has nothing to do with Adam anymore,” Vida says, stretching her hand out for Lisa, who takes it with a sad laugh. The four of them stay in a warm embrace filled with tears and a path to healing. A path my beautiful wife has just helped them create.
I stay in the shadows, my heart twisting painfully as I watch the scene before me. It is beautiful, yes, but it is also a brutal reminder of what we have lost. Of what I had failed to protect.
My eyes drift to her hands, now wrapped around the Browns. Those hands, once so protective of her growing belly, now tremble with the weight of what isn’t there. My throat tightens as I fight back the urge to scream, to rage against the universe for its cruelty.
I can’t stop thinking about the little life we will never meet, the tiny heartbeat that had once filled our lives with hope. I imagined what it would’ve been like, to see Vida hold our baby for the first time, to watch her smile as she whispered sweet nothings to our child. And now, all those dreams are gone, snuffed out like a candle.
She pulls back from the embrace, her eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, the world seems to stop, and it is just the two of us. Her lips quiver as tears continue to fall, and I know she can see the pain etched across my face.
God! I want to comfort her, to hold her and promise that we’ll find a way to heal. But how can I? How can I offer solace when I am drowning in my own guilt and sorrow?
The Browns eventually leave, leaving us to make a path for ourselves. Vida stretches her hand out to me and for the first time in three days, she truly smiles at me as I take her hand and sit next to her.
“We’ll never meet them, Ciro. We’ll never know if they would’ve had your eyes or my smile,” she says, but not in a completely sad way, in a way that means she is accepting a painful reality.
“I’m so sorry, Vida. I’m so . . .”
She shakes her head, her tears mixing with mine.
“Don’t. Don’t apologize. This wasn’t your fault,” she says, almost like she’s been reading my mind for days.
“But . . .” I pause, shaking my head. She is only trying to protect me, it was my fault. I should’ve been there to protect her. It was my fucking job to keep my wife and child safe!
“It’s not my fault,” she whispers and my red eyes instantly shoot to her.
How can she ever even think that? It was never her fault! Fuck, how could she even . . .
“Nor is it yours, baby,” she says, shedding more tears. “I am so sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. It’s not your fault. It’s not our fault, I promise.”
My darling Vida. My life. My chaos.
“It’s not our fault,” I whisper, holding her in my arms as I let us cry in each other’s embrace.
And at this moment, I know that some wounds might never heal. But for her, I will carry the weight of the world if it means seeing her smile again, even if only for a fleeting moment.
We will walk that path and I will die if I ever let anyone hurt her like this again.