The Thistles of Rose

24 • Empathetic

5 months ago

The medication they had me on did nothing to numb the pain in my heart. My sobs dissolved into pained whimpers and agonising cries. I forced myself to stop sobbing because it put a lot of pressure on my recently, stitched-up wounds.

Luca sat next to my hospital bed. He too had tears rolling down his cheeks which splashed onto the white linen. He reached out to grab my hand but I yanked it away.

"No, it can't be true. It's not fucking true!" I shouted and a brutal shock of pain erupted in my stomach. Groaning, I rested my hand on it.

"Take it easy, Rosa. Please. You'll rip your stitches," he urged, gently. I let him put his hand over mine and it felt so comforting.

The tears built up in my eyes again when they met his. Furiously, I shook my head, "I saw them, Luca. I saw our babies. They were alive and-."

My voice caught into a cry. Luca pressed his forehead to my shoulder and his tears soaked my hospital gown.

"Marcello's gone, my love. I'm sorry," he stressed the syllables of his apology in anger. It wasn't his fault. He shouldn't have apologised for it.

"We can't have lost both of them, Luca," I whispered into his hair, and then glanced at the ceiling, "please, Lord. Show us some mercy and let us have at least one of the twins."

His answer came straight away. There was a knock on the door and seconds later, it opened.

"Luca. Rose. There's someone who'd love to meet you," my mom said, delicately. I looked up and felt my heart lurch in my throat. She cradled a pink bundle in her arms. Her red-rimmed eyes were glued to our God-given gift.

"Is that...?" I trailed off, my heart thumping loudly. Luca glanced at me and had the faintest smile on his lips.

"The doctors just finished all their tests. They said she's a very healthy baby considering she's born a month early. She's fine. Your daughter's okay," she smiled, graciously.

Luca exhaled a breath of relief and pressed his lips to the back of my hand. He adjusted the angle of my bed and the pillows behind me and my mom walked towards us. The fresh milk in my breasts churned at the sight of my daughter.

She placed Aurelia into my arms and, suddenly, everything became worth it. All the struggles of my pregnancy were thrown out the window as I drank in the purity of my newborn daughter.

My heart still ached at the thought of Marcello but the longer I stared at Aurelia, the more she cemented those cracks.

She was asleep. Her small weight felt perfect in my arms. Her damp, thick hair was pushed back with a pink headband. Her skin was slightly flaking at her forehead and had a red flush to it but was flawless to me.

Even in the hospital bed as I was broken by the news of my son's death, I felt some sort of a triumph as if I'm finally complete. I couldn't wait to watch her grow and spend my life with her.

They say that there is nothing that can match a mother's love and I knew, at that moment, that I would love her forever, regardless of who she turned out to be.

The door opened again and Marco, draggingly, entered the room.

At the same time, Luca announced, abruptly, "we have to hide her."

"What?" I turned to him, dumbfounded. My mom took a seat on the chair so Marco sat at the edge of my bed.

"He's done it once. What's stopping him from doing it again?" His grey eyes were zeroed in on our daughter and I saw the depths of his love in his conflictions.