Scars
Christian sat on the edge of Symphony’s bed in her familiar room at the Holt mansion. Symphony was propped against her pillows, knees drawn up, hugging Lambie tight to her chest. Her eyes were big and worried, cheeks still a little puffy from yesterday’s tears.
Christian reached out and brushed a dark curl from her forehead, his own fever mostly broken but leaving him pale and tired-looking. He kept his voice low, gentle, the special one he always used when she needed the truth wrapped in softness.
“Princess,” he started, “you know how sometimes when you play too hard or eat too many strawberries, your tummy hurts and you need to rest?”
Symphony nodded slowly, thumb rubbing Lambie’s ear.
“Mommy’s tummy isn’t feeling good right now,” he continued. “Not exactly her tummy, but her heart and her body. She got really, really scared and sad the other day, and it made her feel sick. So the doctors are helping her rest in the hospital so she can get strong again.”
Symphony’s lip wobbled.
“Is Mommy okay?” she whispered.
“She will be,” Christian said firmly, cupping her small face. “The doctors are taking very good care of her. And she misses you so much. She loves you bigger than the moon and all the stars.”
Symphony sniffled.
“I want to see Mommy.”
Christian’s throat tightened.
“I know, baby. I’m going to take you to the hospital to see her today. But before we go…” He paused, searching her eyes. “Do you remember when you were upset and didn’t want to stay at Mommy’s house anymore? When you told her you wanted to come home?”
Symphony looked down at Lambie, nodding just a little.
“Mommy got very sad about that,” Christian said gently.
“She loves you so much, and she really, really wanted you to stay with her. She tried to make everything perfect so you’d feel happy there.
But when you said you missed me and wanted to go home, it hurt her heart a lot.
Sometimes grown-ups don’t know what to do when they’re hurting, and they make mistakes.
Mommy made a mistake when she got scared and locked the door. She’s very sorry about that.”
Symphony’s eyes filled with tears.
“I didn’t mean to make Mommy sad…”
“I know you didn’t, sweetheart.” Christian pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her small body.
“You were just telling her how you felt. That’s okay.
But today, when we see her, I want you to give her a big hug and tell her you’re sorry for making her cry. And tell her you love her. Okay?”
Symphony nodded against his chest.
“Okay, Daddy.”
Christian kissed the top of her head.
“And listen, princess… Mommy needs you with her for a while. Not just visits. She needs to be your mommy every day, the way I’ve been your daddy every day.
So from now on, you’re going to live with Mommy most of the time.
You’ll still see me lots and lots. We’ll have sleepovers and park days and ice cream dates.
But your home will be with Mommy now. She needs her little girl with her. ”
Symphony went very still.
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes wide and shimmering.
“But… I want to stay with you too.”
Christian’s heart cracked open.
“I know, baby,” he whispered, voice thick.
“And I want you here with me. More than anything. But Mommy has missed you for so long. She dreamed about you every single day. She fought so hard to get back to you. She loves you bigger than the whole sky. And she needs you to help her heart feel better. Just like you help mine feel better when I’m sad. ”
Symphony’s lip trembled harder.
“But I’ll miss you…”
“I’ll miss you too,” Christian said, tears slipping down his own cheeks now.
“Every single day. But we’ll talk on the phone every night.
I’ll read you stories over video. I’ll come see you all the time.
And you can come home for weekends and holidays.
You’ll have two houses that love you. Two parents who love you so much it hurts.
And you’ll never, ever have to choose. You get to love us both. Okay?”
Symphony stared at him for a long, wobbly moment.
Then she nodded... slow, uncertain, but trying so hard to understand.
“Okay, Daddy…” she whispered. “I’ll try.”
Christian pulled her close again, rocking her gently, tears falling into her curls.
“That’s my brave girl,” he murmured. “You’re so brave. And Mommy’s going to take such good care of you. And I’ll be right here whenever you need me.”
Symphony sniffled against his neck.
“Promise you’ll come see me tomorrow?”
“Promise,” he said fiercely. “Tomorrow. And the day after. And every day after that.”
She hugged him tighter.
“I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you more, Symphony. More than everything.”
He held her until her breathing steadied, until the tears dried on both their cheeks.
Then he kissed her forehead, helped her pack her little backpack with Lambie and her favorite blanket, and carried her downstairs.
Because today he would drive her back to her mother.
Even if it broke him all over again.
He buckled her into the car seat.
And drove toward the hospital.
Toward Melody.
Toward whatever came next.
×××××××
Melody’s eyelids fluttered open slowly, heavy and reluctant, as though the simple act of waking required more strength than she had left.
The hospital room came into focus in fragments: soft beige walls, the steady beep of the monitor beside her, pale morning light filtering through half-closed blinds.
An IV line tugged gently at the back of her hand.
Her body felt leaden, every breath a quiet effort.
Then she felt it... small, warm weight across her waist.
Symphony.
The little girl was curled against her side on the narrow hospital bed, one tiny arm draped possessively over Melody’s middle, cheek pressed to her mother’s ribs. Dark curls spilled across the white sheet. She was asleep, breathing slow and even, small fingers fisted in the thin hospital gown.
Melody’s throat closed instantly.
She turned her head, and her gaze landed on Christian.
He sat in the chair beside the bed, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. He looked like hell: hair disheveled, skin sallow from fever and sleepless nights. His hoodie was rumpled, sleeves pushed up, revealing forearms corded with tension. He looked like a man who had aged years in hours.
He sensed her movement. His head lifted slowly.
Their eyes met.
For a long heartbeat, neither spoke.
Then Symphony stirred, small, sleepy murmur.
“Mommy…?”
Melody’s voice came out hoarse, cracked from disuse and tears.
“I’m here, baby.”
Symphony blinked awake, eyes wide and guilty the moment she saw Melody’s face.
She sat up quickly, small hands clutching Melody’s gown.
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” she whispered, lip trembling. “I’m sorry I made you sad. I didn’t mean to. I love you. I won’t leave again. Promise. I’ll stay with you. I won’t cry for Daddy anymore. Please don’t be mad…”
Melody’s heart shattered all over again.
She lifted one weak arm and wrapped it around Symphony’s small shoulders, pulling her close.
“I’m not mad, sweetheart,” she rasped. “I was never mad at you. I love you so much. I’m sorry I scared you. I’m so sorry.”
Symphony buried her face in Melody’s neck, sniffling.
“I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you too,” Melody whispered, tears slipping silently into Symphony’s curls. “More than anything.”
Christian watched them, silent and broken.
Then he stood slowly, movements heavy, like every bone ached.
He looked down at them, mother and daughter clinging to each other, and something inside him gave way completely.
His voice came out raw, barely above a whisper.
“I did this.”
Melody’s head lifted slightly.
Christian’s eyes were wet, red-rimmed, voice cracking on every word.
“That scar on your stomach… the one from the C-section… I wasn’t there.
I didn’t hold your hand. I didn’t make sure they took care of you.
I let Ashley take the swabs. I let you bleed and hurt and heal alone.
And now your blood pressure… every spike, every hospital stay, every time your heart races because you’re scared or angry or grieving, it’s because of me.
Because of what I did. Because of what I let happen.
I gave you scars inside and out. I gave you pain you’ll carry for the rest of your life.
And I hate myself for it. Every single day. ”
He swallowed hard, tears spilling freely now.
“I can’t fix it. I know that. I can’t undo the years I stole from you. I can’t give you back the nights you cried alone. But I can give you this.”
He looked at Symphony still clinging to Melody, then back at Melody.
“She’s yours,” he said, voice breaking. “She stays with you. Full-time. No more back and forth. No more splitting her heart. No more making her choose. She lives with her mommy. Where she belongs. Where she’s always belonged.”
Melody stared at him... shocked, eyes wide.
Christian’s shoulders shook.
“I’ll come see her whenever you let me. I’ll call every night. I’ll be here for birthdays and school plays and scraped knees. But she sleeps under your roof. She wakes up to you. She knows your voice is the one that tucks her in. I won’t take her from you again. Not even for a day.”
Tears streamed down his face.
“I love her,” he choked out. “And I love you. And I ruined both of you. But I won’t do it anymore. I won’t be the reason she cries for the other parent. I won’t be the reason her mommy’s heart races. I’m done breaking things.”
He took one step back, then another toward the door.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything.”
Then he turned.
And walked out.
Shoulders bowed, tears falling freely, he disappeared down the hallway.
Melody stared after him, heart pounding, chest aching, eyes burning.
Symphony lifted her head, confused.
“Daddy…?”
Melody pulled her close again, kissing her curls.
“He’ll be back soon, baby,” she whispered. “He just… needed a minute.”
But inside her chest, something shifted.
Not forgiveness.
But understanding.
That the man who had once destroyed her
was now trying to give her back everything he’d taken.
And that hurt almost as much as the scars.
×××××××