Before Our Dawn| ongoing

twenty-two

chapitre vignt-deux
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Sophie Marella Moreau made her grand entrance into the world on a balmy summer night on June 15th, 1938, in the heart of Paris, France.

She arrived healthy and radiant, her very existence a manifestation of her parents' boundless affection. With a spirit as lively as the bubbling fountains of the city, Sophie quickly revealed herself to be a delightful and vibrant addition to their family.

In those early days, Sophie undeniably inherited her mother's graceful beauty, yet her captivating blue eyes were solely her father's. Tarek and Samia often remarked that she looked doll-like.

Sophie's cries from the nursery easily stirred Isra awake. She believed it was one of those things mothers simply grew accustomed to over time. Despite Marcel having experienced his fair share of sleepless nights, Isra refrained from waking him during her recovery period. She cherished the solitary moments with Sophie and, with Marcel nearing the end of his residency, working longer hours alongside Tarek, she preferred not to disturb him in the middle of the night.

"Are you hungry, Sophie?" Isra inquired of her five-month-old, leaning into the crib. "You sure do eat a lot, don't you?"

Gradually, Sophie's sobs tapered into soft whimpers. Responding to her mother's calming presence, the baby began to whine, almost as if recounting her momentary distress. Isra chuckled softly, planting a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead.

Beneath her feet, the floor felt cold, a stark reminder of the November chill seeping through the walls; Isra fretted over whether Sophie would be warm enough tonight.

Seated in the rocking chair, cradling her daughter snugly, Isra lowered the neckline of her nightgown and guided Sophie's mouth to her nipple.

The little one suckled, casting a half-lidded gaze at her mother.

Isra smiled down at her daughter. "It's hard to believe you're mine," she murmured, her finger caressing the baby's chubby cheek. "You're such a fragile little thing. But don't worry, Mama and Papa will always keep you safe."

Then, like a gentle breeze that swept through her senses, Marcel's voice softly entered the room from the doorway. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

He approached slowly, his steps unhurried, a sleepy calmness about him. "You look absolutely stunning."

"I'm just feeding our baby. Nothing extravagant or deserving of praise."

He knelt beside Isra, his fingers delicately brushing Sophie's hair as he marveled at the miracle in her arms. "This deserves all the praise. You're doing something truly remarkable. Being a mother isn't an easy task."

She recalled all he did for their family as well. "Being a father isn't easy either." She leaned in to place a tender kiss on his temple. "Thank you."

Sophie, intrigued by the sounds of her parents' voices, briefly released her latch on Isra's breast, turning her head towards him. "Looks like she's eager to join our conversations already," Isra remarked with a laugh.

"Sometimes it's still hard to believe. I mean, we're responsible for this little human being."

"But we're fortunate to have her," Isra said. She offered Sophie to Marcel to hold, and he eagerly accepted the warm bundle, cradling their daughter in his sturdy arms. He nestled Sophie against his chest, surprised by how tiny and fragile she seemed within his protective embrace.

He gently swayed Sophie, eliciting a contented sigh from her as her tiny fingers curled around one of his.

She nestled in closer, resting her head against his shoulder as they both admired their precious daughter.