ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴡᴏ

Hot tempered

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THREE DAYS LATER
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XAVIER

There I was, packing up the baby bags in the sterile hospital room. I moved around the room, collecting the diapers, pacifiers, and the tiny outfits Zoe brought for our son. The smell of antiseptic hung in the air, but beneath it was a new scent, a fresh scent - our baby's scent.

With each tiny onesie I folded, I felt a pang of a surreal realization - we were parents now. The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotions. Sofia's C-section had been frightening, but the moment I laid eyes on our son, relief washed over me.

But Sofia, she was different. She was struggling, and I could see it. She had that distant look in her eyes, the one she gets when she's lost in her thoughts. She tried to hide it, but I've known her long not to notice.

"Sofia," I said, zipping up the bags and moving closer to her. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, and our son cradled in her arms. She looked down at him, her eyes full of an emotion I couldn't quite decipher.

"Yeah?" she asked, not looking up from Saint.

"You've been distant," I said gently, taking a seat next to her on the bed.

She sighed, her gaze never leaving our son. "I know," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I just... I can't seem to bond with him, Xavier. I don't know why."

I could hear the guilt in her words, see the pain in her eyes. It broke my heart to see her like this. I reached out, placing my hand on her back.

I reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair away from her face. "You're doing great, Sofia," I reassured her. "It's been a tough few days, but we'll get through this."

She nodded, her gaze shifting towards Saint. "I just... He doesn't seem to like me, Xavier," she admitted, her voice breaking slightly. "Every time I hold him, he cries. When I feed him, he cries. I don't know what I'm doing wrong..."

I felt a stab of pain in my chest at her words. I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts before replying. "You're not doing anything wrong," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Saint is just adjusting to the world outside. It's all new to him. And the bond... it will take time."

"But what if he never bonds with me?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

"We'll figure it out," I responded, taking her hand in mine. "We'll learn. We'll adapt. And Saint will bond with you. He's just got a lot of new things to get used to."

I could see her relax slightly at my words. She looked down at our son again.

"Come on, we should go. Need to get you settled in." I say to him.

"Yeah, you're right." She says and hands the baby to me.

I gently eased our son into the car seat, making sure he was securely buckled in. Sofia stood beside me, her eyes fixed on Saint.

As I stood up, ready to leave the hospital room, Sofia turned towards me. There was a vulnerability in her eyes, a flicker of hope mixed with trepidation.

Without thinking, I closed the distance between us, cupping her face with my hands, and kissed her softly on the lips. For that brief instant, it felt like time had reversed, and we were back in each other's arms.

She still tastes the same...

When we finally broke the kiss, Sofia's eyes glistened with tears, but this time, they were tears of mixed emotions.

"We shouldn't." She says like she's conflicted, and I release her.

Taking a deep breath, we left the hospital room, hand in hand. But as we stepped into the corridor, a wave of confusion washed over me.

My parents were standing there, waiting for us.

Why are they here? I didn't tell them, and Zoe doesn't speak to them, so Jason- Fucking hell.

"Mom? Dad?" I said, my voice tinged with surprise and annoyance. "What are you doing here?"

My mother's eyes darted between Sofia and me, her disapproval evident. "We heard you had your baby," she said coldly, her words laced with disdain. "We wanted to see our grandchild."

Well, I didn't have the baby Sofia did.

Sofia's grip on my hand tightened, but she remained silent, her eyes cast downward. I could feel the tension in the air, the weight of my mother's disapproval hanging over us like a dark cloud.

"You should have called," I replied through gritted teeth, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "You can't just show up unannounced."

My father stepped forward, attempting to defuse the situation. "Xavier, we just wanted to celebrate this special moment with you," he said, his voice tinged with regret.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "It's not just about this moment. It's about everything that led us here. Sofia is the mother of our child, and she deserves respect."

My mother scoffed, her disapproval evident in her tone. "Well, I hope she knows her place."

I felt my blood boil at the racist undertone of her words. It operated my mother's prejudice for far too long, but in that moment, it felt unbearable.

"Her place? Her place is right beside me, as my partner and the mother of my child," I said firmly, my voice filled with conviction.

Sofia squeezed my hand.

Taking a step forward, I faced my parents, my voice unwavering. "If you can't accept Sofia into your lives, then you can't be a part of ours," I declared.

There was a heavy silence as my words hung in the air

My mother's anger erupted like a volcano, her face contorted with fury. She lunged forward, her hand reaching out to grab Sofia's arm. Before I could react, Sofia instinctively pushed her away in self-defense. My mother stumbled backward, shock registering on her face.

"Enough!" Sofia's voice was firm, but there was a tremor of fear beneath it. "I'm done being the object of your disrespect. Just leave me alone. "

My mother regained her balance, her eyes narrowing with a mixture of indignation and disbelief. "How dare you lay hands on me? I should have known you were manipulating Xavier all this time! I will not tolerate this insolence. I'm calling the police!"

"No, you won't." My voice cut through the tension, resolute and unwavering. I stepped between them, shielding Sofia from my mother's wrath. "This ends now. We are leaving."

Sofia and I turned away, walking towards the exit of the hospital, hand in hand.

I wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead.

I'm going to kill my useless brother.