Charlotte
The room is quiet except for the soft little breaths coming from the bassinet beside me.
I lie on my side, one hand resting on the edge, close enough to feel the warmth of her through the blanket.
My baby. Our baby. Mine in every way that matters, even though technically, my throat tightens, nothing about my future feels guaranteed anymore.
Vitali left as soon as I held our baby. No kiss to my forehead. No whisper of where he was going. Just absence. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. We had an agreement. We both knew what this was supposed to be.
But hormones are cruel little puppeteers, tugging emotions into the light whether they belong there or not.
I brush my knuckle over the baby’s cheek. Soft as a whisper. Her tiny lips purse, like she’s dreaming of milk, and a rush of fierce, aching love surges through me. It’s overwhelming. A tidal wave I never saw coming.
And suddenly I’m crying.
Not silent tears, those would be manageable. These come from somewhere lower, somewhere deep, pulling my breath in sharp little gasps as I try not to wake her. Because everything is raw. Everything is sharp. The joy and the terror blend together until I can’t tell which is which.
The door clicks open.
I swipe at my face too late.
Sophia steps inside, sunlight trailing after her. She looks like she always does, relaxed, soft, innately kind. Her arms are full: flowers in pale peach and white, a gift bag, something wrapped in a soft muslin cloth.
“Oh Charlotte,” she murmurs immediately, her expression folding with empathy. “Baby blues hitting hard?”
I laugh, but it cracks like ice. “Apparently.”
She sets the gifts on the dresser and comes straight to the bed, slipping onto the chair beside me. I sit up and she reaches for my hand, squeezing gently.
“It’s okay to feel everything all at once,” she says. “After I had my first, I cried because Yury went to take a shower. A shower.” She rolls her eyes fondly. “You would’ve thought he was volunteering for the front line.”
A shaky sound leaves me, a half-laugh, half-sob.
“It’s just… I look at her,” I say, nodding toward the bassinet, “and I can’t imagine ever being without her. I can’t imagine leaving. And the contract…” My voice thins on the last word.
Sophia’s brows lift slightly. “You haven’t talked to Vitali about that yet?”
Shame burns up my neck. “No. I know the terms. I agreed to them. I shouldn’t expect anything else.”
She tilts her head. “You should expect honesty. And so should he.”
The room wobbles for a moment as tears try to spill again. “What if he doesn’t want me anymore? He was so amazing throughout the labour and then…he just up and disappeared. Like none of it ever happened. Like I’m just…done now.”
Sophia sighs softly. “Vitali is many things. Terrifying, stubborn, emotionally constipated—”
A startled laugh escapes me.
“—but he is not apathetic,” she finishes. “If he was, you’d know it. You’d feel the cold of it like a locked door.”
I chew my lip, uncertainty twisting every thought. “I should be grateful I got this much. It’s more than I ever expected.”
“Charlotte.” Her voice sharpens just enough to make me meet her eye. “Gratitude doesn’t mean forfeiting your heart. You love your daughter. You love her father, or you’re on the verge of it. Those things deserve to be spoken out loud.”
My breath shakes.
“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?” I whisper.
“What if he never felt otherwise?” she counters gently.
I stare down at my hands, knuckles white around the blanket. “I don’t know how to start.”
Sophia squeezes again. “Start simple. Tell him what you told me. That you can’t imagine a future that doesn’t include the two of them.”
A silence settles, thick and trembling. My heart beats faster just thinking about the conversation.
Sophia stands, gathering the flowers and arranging them in a crystal vase by the window. “You’re stronger than you think,” she says without looking away from the petals she adjusts. “And for what it’s worth? I don’t believe Vitali ever intended to let you go.”
My pulse lurches. “Why would you say that?”
“Because,” she smiles, warm and secretive, “I’ve seen the way he watches you. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.”
I blink now, tears sliding freely down my face.
Happy, terrified, hopeful tears.
Sophia steps closer again, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
“You’re family now,” she whispers. “And family…doesn’t get returned after six months.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“I’ll talk to him,” I breathe.
“Excellent.” She presses a kiss to my cheek. “And until then, just hold that baby and let yourself feel everything. And message me when she wakes up so I can get my first aunty cuddles.”
I look at the bassinet again, at the tiny miracle that changed everything, and for the first time since waking, the panic loosens just enough to let love take the lead.