A Ruin Of Roses (Used to be: My Mysterious Husband)

THIRTY-SIX

𝙳𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗, 𝙸𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝟷:𝟺𝟽 𝙿.𝙼 𝚂𝙴𝙿𝚃 𝟻𝚝𝚑 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟾
[𝙿.𝙾.𝚅 𝚁𝙾𝚂𝙴]

 We sit together in the dimly lit hospital room, sharing our stories and thoughts as we wait for Jaxon to wake up. It's a rare moment of connection, and it's comforting to have someone to talk to during this trying time.

"So you're telling me your dad was..." she begins, and her eyes sparkle with a warm smile.

"Yeah, he told me he was seeing this really sweet guy named Gavin, and oh my, they were so cute," I respond, my own smile growing as I reminisce about their relationship.

"I love that," she says, sharing in my appreciation for their love. "How did he take your dad's death?" she asks, shifting the conversation toward my experiences.

"He took it really rough... He still reaches out sometimes to check on me and Jayden," I admit, thinking about how my dad continues to influence my life.

"Sorry to change the subject, but I was wondering, what were some names you were thinking of?" she asks, redirecting our conversation to a lighter topic.

I consider the question and share my thoughts. "My dad's name was Patrick Fawn... I was thinking Patrick Lune for a boy," I say, smiling at the idea of honoring my dad's memory.

"And for a girl?" she inquires.

"Bella," I answer, my heart warmed by the idea of giving our child a beautiful name.

"Cute," she says, appreciating the choice. She leans back, lost in thought, and I continue to share with her.

"My dad was the one who named me. My mom didn't really seem to care all that much. I've always gone by Rose, but sometimes when I think about my full name, I can't bring myself to call myself that," I confess, revealing a bit of my inner turmoil.

"What's your real name?" she asks, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

"Blathnaid Rose Fawn," I admit, watching her reaction closely.

"You know, a cute name... Roisin," she suggests, offering an alternative.

"I thought so too, but I wouldn't name my daughter that. Everyone would call her Rose, and it would confuse her," I explain, my practicality winning out.

"Maybe a grandbaby, then," she muses, playfully suggesting the idea.

I laugh at the thought. "Woah," I respond, unable to resist the charm of her suggestion.

"You never know. I feel if any of your children named a baby after you, it would be Jayden," she suggests, drawing my attention to my little boy. He's resting beside his unconscious father, his head nestled against Jaxon's chest, and his small fingers wrapped around Jaxon's hand.

"Jayden really loves him, doesn't he?" she observes, noticing the strong bond between them.

"Yeah, Jayden found his dad," I say softly, my eyes fixed on Jaxon's face. "I wish he'd wake up," I mutter, my voice filled with longing and concern.

"Me too. This is the longest he's been under, you could say," she comments, her own worry evident.

"Why did your dad kick him out?" I ask, sensing that there's more to her story than she's shared so far.

She hesitates for a moment, glancing around the room as if searching for the right words. "That's a really long story," she sighs.

"I don't have anything to do. If you want to tell me, I'm here to listen," I offer, eager to hear her story and strengthen the bond between us during this challenging time.