Pyre

Chapter 30

TRIS POV

I suppose it will never be a common occurrence to see my own reflection. Whenever I pass a mirror, sometimes I still find myself averting my eyes out of pure instinct, then forcing myself to look out of spite for such a rule.

Abnegation has its attributes and its faults, and now that I have my own child, I must decide which rules were important in my upbringing and which were constricting. It was simple to pass off the mirror tradition as foolish once the baby caught a glance of herself.

From the place on my hip, she coos as she locks hazel eyes on the pair of us. I hold her up closer so she can watch herself squirm and move her arms with her shadow.

"See that? That's you," I tell her with a smile.

I grasp her hand to make a waving motion, and she eases into giggles when she sees her reflection doing the same. In turn, it makes me laugh at her curiosity.

And as I stare at us, at her pink cheeks and the maturity in my eyes that wasn't there a year ago, I wonder if my mother ever did this with me. Probably not, although she did have a knack for breaking Abnegation norms for the sake of Caleb and I.

It makes my eyes sting when I see something of her warm expression in mine, and my grin falters for a second. Maybe she was not allowed to have the same relationship with me that I will have with this baby, but she showed me that she loved me in the little actions: combing my hair, teaching me to cook, humming a song to help me sleep whenever I was frightened or sick. It was more than enough.

Slowly, I am beginning to understand the depth of the love my mother felt for me. This time, from the other point of view. It is uncontainable, and I don't fully understand it yet.

Lost inside the momentary grief, it takes a few seconds to notice Tobias standing behind me, his palms on the counter.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks knowingly.

Shaking my head and forcing the sadness off of my face, I tell him, "Nothing. Just...my mother."

He draws his eyebrows in with empathy, resting his chin on my head. My arms pull the baby closer to my chest unconsciously.

"She..." I swallow hard at the thought of what I am about to say. "She won't ever meet her. Or my father." Or Dez, or Lynn, or Marlene, or Will for that matter.

Tobias's sigh echoes through me with his chest against my back. He may be getting better rest at night, but there is no doubt that he is still tired by the glazed look in his eyes.

"Maybe not in any way we are aware of," he says. "But I'm sure that they know."

It is the best alleviation he could offer. This life may not have turned out the way that I originally envisioned it, and I will never watch my parents meet my daughter. Still, the consolation that they know where I have gotten, that they are somehow there to guide me even if it may have only been in the past, helps to make up for it.

I watch Tobias reach around to let the baby take hold of his outstretched finger. She gurgles, completely transfixed on how the motion lines up in the glass. It drags a shy smile out of him.

It is easier to notice the drastic change that she brought in Tobias than it is in myself, at least for me. In two weeks, he has gone from avoiding the baby altogether to begrudgingly learning how to change a diaper. He may not have the extra weeks of experience that I do, but he is trying, and I could not possibly ask more of him.

They are much more attached to each other now. He has not openly admitted that he cares about her beyond what is normal for an unknown child, though it is difficult to miss those feelings in the overly cautious way he holds her and the softness in his gaze.