48. Lucia
48
LUCIA
T he house is quiet, and for once, I feel a sense of peace I haven’t known in a long time. I’m sprawled out on the couch, one of those rare afternoons where everything seems calm. The TV is on, but I’m not really paying attention—just background noise, something to keep my mind from wandering too far into the mess of everything Saverio and I have been through.
Our lives are changing faster than I thought they would. All it took was one date to change the course of our future. Ever since we awkwardly sat down in an Olive Garden and pretended to be a normal couple, everything has started careening toward our new lives together.
I shift slightly, adjusting the blanket over my lap, when something unusual happens—a flutter in my belly. I freeze, my hand immediately going to my stomach. It happens again—a faint but undeniable movement. My heart skips a beat, and I sit up, my breath catching in my throat. Is this…? The sensation is so foreign, yet somehow familiar, like a long-forgotten memory suddenly resurfacing.
I wait, holding my breath, and then, there it is—an unmistakable kick—a little jolt, like a tiny foot pressing against me, trying to say hello. The movement is gentle but insistent as if the baby is determined to make its presence known. I scramble to remember when the books said I’d start to feel movement. I’m fifteen weeks along. Is it too early? Too late? Is it right on time?
“Oh my God,” I whisper, my voice shaky with excitement. My hands tremble slightly as I press them against my belly, hoping to feel that magical sensation again. It’s as if the reality of the life growing inside me has suddenly become tangible, no longer just an abstract concept but a living, moving being.
“Saverio!” I shout, not caring how loud I am or if the neighbors might hear. I need him here right now. I need him to feel the baby, too.
I hear footsteps rush from the other room, accompanied by the sound of something clattering to the floor. Saverio appears in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern, a dish towel still clutched in his hand. “What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I can’t help but smile, my heart racing as I motion him over. “Nothing’s wrong, just come here. Hurry!”
He hesitates for a second, looking confused and wary, but crosses the room quickly. His socked feet slide a little on the hardwood floor. I grab his hand, noting how warm and slightly damp it is from whatever he was doing in the kitchen, and guide it to my belly, right where I felt the kick.
“Just wait,” I whisper, my voice soft but filled with excitement. I hold my breath, willing our little one to move again, to give Saverio the same magical experience I just had.
We sit there in silence for several long minutes, Saverio’s hand resting gently against the curve of my stomach. I watch his face intently, my eyes tracing every line and contour, waiting with bated breath for the moment it happens. Then, suddenly, it does.
The baby kicks again, stronger this time, a forceful little nudge against Saverio’s palm. And I see it—the flash of awe in Saverio’s eyes that mirrors my own emotions perfectly. His entire expression transforms in an instant, shifting from mild confusion to pure, unadulterated wonder. He looks up at me, his mouth slightly open in shock, eyes wide with amazement, and then back down at my rounded belly. His fingers spread wider as if trying to encompass more of the miraculous life growing within me.
“Did the baby just?—”
“Kick,” I finish for him, grinning like an idiot. “Yes.”
Saverio’s hand stays pressed against my stomach, and he’s silent, just taking it in. It’s rare to see him like this—so vulnerable, so completely in awe of something so small. His thumb brushes lightly over the spot where he felt the kick, and I can see the emotions flashing across his face. It’s a side of him I don’t get to see often, and for a moment, everything feels right.
“Wow,” he finally breathes, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s our baby.”
I nod, unable to stop the tears welling up in my eyes. “Yeah. It is.”
For a while, neither of us says anything. We just sit there, his hand on my stomach, feeling the tiny life growing inside me. The silence is comfortable, filled with a shared sense of wonder and anticipation. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like we’re in this together— really in this. Not just because we have to be but because we want to be. The connection between us feels tangible, like a bridge spanning all the doubts and fears we’ve harbored over the years.
All the dreams I’ve had about our future and our lives together are coming true. The image of us as a family, once hazy and distant, now feels within reach. And even though Saverio still has a life I don’t want to know anything about, we’re figuring it out. We’re navigating the complexities of our relationship, finding common ground in the miracle growing between us. For each other, and for our baby, we’re making compromises. It’s not perfect, but it’s ours, and it’s enough.