The White Shadow

28. No Life Without Heartbreak

Blood in his eyes, his mouth, nose, and all over his clothes, Firmin stumbled to where he had promised to meet Reina. Eventually, the nobles had grown tired and their knuckles had begun to hurt. Laughing, they had left him, where Firmin would have wanted to do nothing but curl up and stay on the ground. But he needed to see Reina. Hopefully, she wouldn't overact when she saw him. She had enough to worry about with their child.

     But when he came to the dark back alley, he saw no one.

     "Reina?" Where was she? His stomach knotted. Something had gone wrong. He felt it.

     But she wasn't here. She'd probably never even come here. Despite him being late he knew her not to be one to give up easily.

     Firmin continued walking. Picked up his pace and started running, despite his aching bones and torn skin. He shoved past a woman holding a basket, slammed into two children and nearly stumbled. He pushed past several farmers before reaching the gates. Past the guards and fled outside the walls.

     Hold on, Reina, here I come!

     He heard crying. "Reina," he recognized, and ran.

     He saw her, standing underneath a stone archway, the gardens outside being their favorite place to meet if only Firmin wouldn't have to make it back inside before curfew every night.

     She turned around, holding their baby in her arms. The moon reflected tears on her face.

     "Firmin," she choked. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't do it. I'm sorry."

     Firmin rushed closer. The babe was in her arms. Firmin smiled when he saw the peaceful little face . . . and then, he noticed something was off. Without a drop of blood or a look of pain, Firmin quickly realized that their son was not alive.

     "No," he gasped. Took the babe from her hands and instantly regretted it. The weight. The feel of the unmoving body. Lifeless. Cold.

     He instantly wanted to give it back to Reina but could only stare down in shock. His trembling hands smeared the white cloth in red. He sank down, his knees digging into the cool, soft dirt.

     "We have to bury him," he whispered. Not in the cemetery where they would be seen.

     Holding the dead baby in his arms, he slowly walked from the archway hidden in shadow. He knew a place, beneath a tree. Not very far from here.

     "Come." He somehow never wanted to reach the place yet couldn't wait for this walk to be over.

     He gave Reina their child, then went down on his knees. Dug his fingers into the ground. He scooped away dirt and rock and roots until he had carved out a large hole in the ground. Firmin stared down at the darkness, where his child would lay for eternity.

     He tried to wipe away the filth on his hands before he would take Hazel, then turned to Reina and reached out.

     Weeping, she kissed the forehead of the baby and then handed him to Firmin.

     After he had placed him into the dark hole, with what felt like broken fingers and torn skin he swept the dirt over. Reina knelt down beside him and helped. Her tears fell into the ground.

     Firmin stood up and stepped back. In silence, they looked upon the grave.

     "I just . . ." He shook his head. He just couldn't believe it.

     "I tried," Reina sobbed. "I tried to be a mother. To live a normal life."

     Firmin didn't want to hear it. Not now.

     "I tried so hard. I would have given my all. But I failed."

     "No, Reina," he said, not having the strength to talk above a whisper. "You can't take this on yourself."

     "But Firmin. I killed him! I killed our son. Our little, sweet, Hazel."

     Firmin shook his head. "Reina, just stop." He couldn't pull his eyes away from the dirt. "This is not how it ends. I promise, we—we can have another child." The packed dirt—what if an animal would decide to dig up the ground, or perhaps a flower would grow in it. "There's still—there's still hope. There has to be."

     "Firmin, I can't give you the life you want. I can't be what you want me to be. Firmin, look at me."

     He turned and met her eyes. He felt her pain, her fear. He couldn't bear it, knowing what she was going through now. And she simply couldn't blame herself for this.

     "Firmin, I thought I could somehow try hard enough. But at some point, we have to be real. We have to accept things the way they are. We cannot choose our own fate, change the path cut out for us. And we have to stop trying. Firmin, I surrender. Before things only get worse."

     "No, we have to keep trying!" Firmin said. "We must."

     "I can't," she said, her face torn by emotion. "I can't take any more heartbreak."

     "Heartbreak, pain, it's always part of it, my Reina. But we cannot give in because of it. Because it's no life without both parts. The good and the bad." He reached out and took her hands. "Reina, I always thought that you took away from me, and that was why I felt so empty after you drained me. But when I was without you, I was nothing. Even before I met you. You complete me. You give me life. Anguish. Love. Death. But also life. Reina, we are in this together. We both have done mistakes."

     "You have done no mistake," she said bitterly.

     "Yes. Mine was to not be there with you, to take care of you. You never said the words but I should have seen that you were weak and in need. I should have realized I could not control or rule you. My mistake was to expect the impossible of you. I cannot change who you are. But I can love you."

     She sniffed. But he saw something dawn in her eyes. "What was mine? I swear, I will fix it."

     There she was again. Innocent and loving. "Then have faith, Reina. Stop being afraid and believe. We can get through this. You and I. Come here."

     He opened his arms and embraced her tightly. He felt her tremble and wished he could still that fear. Once upon a time he had wished he could make her understand the weight of her actions. Now he was glad she couldn't feel the pain.