Destined

Chapter Twenty-Four

Elena

Sometimes I felt like I had no right to grief over losing my child. I didn't even know about its existence, to begin with. It was this raging war in my mind where I'd ask myself if I was allowed to mourn over a baby I didn't know. 

Is that what I was even grieving? The loss of our baby, or was I grieving over the pain and suffering I went through the entire time I was taken? I've been back home for weeks and around people who care about me. 

Yet, despite their safety and reassurance, I didn't feel normal. I felt out of place. I felt broken, like there were too many pieces out of place and shattered for me ever to be whole again. I felt like I'd never be the same person ever again. Sometimes it felt wrong to cry, to clutch my stomach, and sob.

Other times, I told myself it was justified, that I had gone through hell, that I deserved an outlet. It was chaotic. My mind wasn't at peace. I wasn't at peace with myself. The bruises had faded over time, but the pain and internal wounds would always be with me. 

I'd forever carry them inside my heart, soul, body, and mind. Despite the bruises fading, the bruises surrounding my mental and emotional health were still there, and the pain was a constant reminder of what happened to me, what I went through, and what I lost. 

At night, I could still hear Enzo's voice, feel someone kicking my stomach, and wake up screaming. Oisín stayed with me, holding and comforting me as much as he could, but I wasn't comfortable. It was like I was at war with myself. 

I never wanted a baby, yet I had never been happier when Enzo told me I was pregnant. All I could do was imagine a little boy with his father's entrapping eyes and my curly black hair. Or a little girl with her father's smile and my love for cooking. 

It was thoughts like this that genuinely annihilated me. It didn't matter where I was or what I was doing; I'd break down then and there. During dinner, in my shower, and even on the toilet, it had gotten to the point where I wouldn't even know I was crying. 

Fiona and my nonna, along with Aofie, tried their hardest to rub my back, be there for me, and give me comforting words and hugs, but it felt suffocating sometimes. It was like I couldn't even cry without someone reaching out to touch me. 

It wasn't a bad thing. I know. But it felt like the worst possible thing they could do. I know they weren't trying to stifle me, but I couldn't rationalize my anger and sadness. They combined somehow, and it had become this nasty fused emotion where I lashed out immediately and then cried all night about it. 

First, I felt guilty for crying over our lost baby, and then I would feel even more guilty for not trying to connect or mourn with Oisín. He doesn't say anything, but I know he was hurting just the same. I know he's been wanting kids, and knowing that the first one we made together was taken away from us, filled us both with rage and sorrow.

"Elena."

I moved my eyes away from the wall and turned my head. "Yeah, nonna."

Then, I felt the wetness on my cheeks and wiped them furiously. She didn't speak or attempt to hand me a tissue. Instead, she grabbed my hand and aided me off the couch. I kept her hand close as she walked us out to the pool area.

I saw Fiona, Liam, and my husband standing in the distance where the flowerbeds were. I was confused but didn't ask what was happening until we reached them. They parted, and that's when I saw it—a headstone with beautiful flowers surrounding it. It wasn't until I read the name that I fell to my knees to hug it.

'Baby Morelli Callahan.'

'You were too good for this world. Sleep soundly with the angels, for you are one. We love you.'