Love Me for Eternity || Bruno Madrigal

Chapter 37: Let Go

TW: Depictions of Postpartum Depression and Intense Grief

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They say when you find no meaning to life, the world dulls into tones of gray.

You find yourself staring into muted green fabric, shifting ever so slightly at a tousle of arms that tries to reach your awaiting mouth—just one bite. One bite is all it takes, and you'll have your fill. At least, that's the barest of minimums you needed to at least function.

" Mi vida, you have to eat." His voice was faraway, drowned in a sea of white noise. There was a ringing in your ear, one of which you wanted to stop, stop, stop—

"No." Your voice was hoarse from the lack of use. It scratched your throat painfully, and it left you craving for a drop of water. But you didn't reach out to the glass that was carefully placed beside the table, no. Instead. You stared into the eyes of your husband's worried stare. You were disappointed when the emerald that speckled his irises dulled in your view as well.

"It's been two days, amor. You need to at least take a bite." You gripped on to the green blanket in your arms, huddling it closer to your chest in a gentle cradle. You desperately wanted to believe there was a weight in your embrace, but you only felt the light touch of cotton under your fingertips.

Bruno frowned and rested his hands on yours, caressing it tenderly with his thumb. You don't react; how could you possibly react? Your child, the very same child you had envisioned your future with, was no longer with you. The child you had loved so much despite being a few months old was taken away by the cold hands of death.

The world turned gray.

"He was so tiny... so frail," You ghosted a hand over the fabric of Teo's blanket, now cold and uninviting. "...why did he have to go so soon, Bruno? Why did Teo leave us so soon?"

Bruno wished he had an answer.

You had endured the pains of pregnancy, thrived through the hormones that attacked you relentlessly, and survived the loss of blood that came from your womb that one fateful day. You were a fighter at heart, both in motherhood and battle. Despite being accustomed to the hits that came with your duty as a watchman, this pain was too much. Nothing could compare to the emptiness of your chest when you reached down to caress your belly—now flat and devoid of a child that should be waking you and your husband up in the wee hours of the morning. You imagined what it would be like to have raised Teo; to nurture him, to play with him, to coddle him like a mother should. Yet he had to go so early.

Your sweet, sweet Teo—you didn't even hear him cry.

"He would have looked like you, Bruno." Your husband perked up, hope rising in his chest when you finally started a conversation. You uttered it so quietly that he almost missed it, but this was progress.

"I beg to differ—Teo had your nose, amor. " Bruno reached up to caress your cheek, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"He would have run around the Casita and used the staircase as a slide." Your eyes were faraway, almost placid. Bruno frowned, but continued to reply.

"Just like we did when we were kids."

"He would have played with the other kids, and he'd be a shy little boy—just like you."

"No, he would have gotten your wit from the side of the family. He'd be an energetic one—just like you."

"He would have gotten his gift. He'd have the most wonderful gift of all Madrigals."