Chapter 403
After a while, I push myself up from the couch, restless and unsettled. Sitting there isn’t helping. If anything, it’s only making the thoughts louder. Making it harder to ignore them.
I need to move, so I push myself up from the couch and start heading toward my room, but I don’t make it far before I stop. My steps slow as my gaze lands on the opposite side of mine, and for a moment, I just stand there, staring at it while a familiar tightness forms in my chest.
I swallow hard, my hand lifting slightly before hesitating in the air. For a second, I think about turning around, about pretending it’s not there, about leaving it closed. I don’t know if I want to go in, and I’m not sure I’m ready to face whatever is waiting for me on the other side, yet something in me refuses to walk away.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, I step forward and reach for the handle. My fingers curl around it, and after a brief pause, I push the door open.
My breath catches the moment I step inside The room is exactly how I left it.
Soft blue tones cover the walls, and a crib sits neatly in the center, untouched. There’s a small bookshelf lined with storybooks I had carefully picked out, a changing table stocked with things I never got to use, and a rocking chair placed near the window.
I had prepared everything. Every single detail to fit a baby boy, but I got a girl, and I’m not complaining, just broken that my baby never got to stay in this room.
A broken sound escapes me before I can stop it and my vision blurs as tears fill my eyes, and suddenly the weight I’ve been holding back crashes into me all at once.
I step inside slowly, my heart racing as if I’m about to touch a live wire. I scan everything once again and the more I do, the heavier my heart becomes.
I drop down on the rocking chair as my tears fall. My hands come up to cover my face, but that does nothing.
The sobs come hard and uncontrollable, tearing through me like a tornado. I want my baby. God, I want her so badly it feels like something inside me is being ripped apart.
I miss her, even though I never got to hold her, never got to feel her in my arms or hear her cry or see her eyes open for the first time, the absence of those moments feels just as real as if I had lived them. I only saw her in pictures, and that’s not enough. It will never be enough.
I want to hold her, to kiss her, to rock her to sleep in this very chair. I want to feed her, to feel her close to me, to be her mother in every way I was supposed to be. Instead, I’m left pumping milk into bottles she’s not here to drink, and the cruelty of it all settles deep in my chest, heavy and unforgiving.
“If you’re listening, please,” I whisper brokenly into my hands, praying for the first time in forever. “Please bring my baby back; please have mercy and bring her back to me p>
I don’t believe in miracles but damn it, I could use one.
Today of all days, when everything feels like it’s spinning out of control, when nothing makes sense and I don’t even recognize my own life anymore, I need her more than ever. Things would have been easier with her near me but she’s not here and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Eventually, my sobs begin to fade, though the ache in my chest doesn’t ease. It never really does. I sit there for a moment longer, trying to gather what little strength I have left before slowly pushing myself up.