ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴡᴏ

Jenna's return

SOFIA

The room is dimly lit. The only source of light is the soft glow from the nightlight casting dancing shadows on the walls of the nursery. My arms cradle. Saint, for some unknown reason, chooses to express his discomfort through wails that echo in the quiet of the night. He's already changed and swaddled, full from his last feeding. In my arms, I've offered him the comfort of his favorite pacifier, but he turns his face away, his tiny fists balled up in protest.

"Shh, Saint, please," I coo, my voice trembling. "It's okay, mommy's here. You don't need to cry." But his cries only grow louder, his tiny face scrunched up in distress.

Tears well up in my eyes, mirroring his own, as I desperately try to find a way to soothe him. "What's wrong? I've done everything I can think of. Please, give me a sign, anything." His cries cut through me.

I reach for the pacifier again, gently offering it to him. "Here. This will make you feel better, I promise." But he turns his head away, his cries intensifying. It feels like a dagger to my heart, his rejection of my attempts to comfort him.

"Please, Saint. Please, baby," I beg him, my voice choked with desperation. "You're safe. You're loved. Mommy's right here. Just take the pacifier, please." But he continues to cry, his tiny body writhing in my arms.

I feel a wave of helplessness wash over me, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I don't know what to do. I'm trying my best, but I feel like I'm failing you." My voice cracks with emotion.

As his cries persist, I hold him closer, swaying gently from side to side.

And then, as if a switch has been flipped, he quiets down, his cries dying down to soft whimpers. I look down at him, my heart pounding in my chest. His little hand reaches out, latching onto the pacifier that I'm still holding out to him.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and I smile through my tears. "There you go. You're okay now." I watch in silent awe as his little lips close around the pacifier, his eyes drooping.

Finally, he falls asleep, his body going slack against mine. I walk towards my bedroom with Saint. I carefully lower him into his crib, his tiny form nestled among the blankets.

"Finally. I thought you'd never get him to shut up." A voice says from behind me.

A chill runs down my spine. I feel like all the air has been sucked from the room.  That voice.. I know that voice.

"Jenna?" I say softly without turning around.

"Hello, Sofia." She says. "Beautiful baby," she coos, her voice like ice slicing through the quiet room. "Our baby."

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I don't turn around, my gaze fixed on Saint. His peaceful face is my anchor in this storm.

I won't let her harm him. I can't.

"You don't deserve him," Jenna spits out, her words dripping with venom. "You stole Xavier from me. You stole my baby."

Her voice is a twisted echo, bouncing off the walls and consuming every bit of air. I can feel the tension in the room build, and it's suffocating. My mind is a whirlwind of fear and confusion, but I have to stay calm. For Saint.

"The past is the past, Jenna," I manage to say, my voice shaking but determined. "Xavier and I found each other. We have a family now."

I hear her scoff, the sound cutting through the air like a blade. "Family? This is my family. He was supposed to be mine. And that baby... he's mine, too."

My heart skips a beat, the weight of her words hitting me like a tidal wave. I turn my gaze to Saint, my protective instincts kicking into overdrive. I can't let her take him away. Not ever.