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☆ ☆ ☆
"Grisha, is there anything you can do?" the stout man asked, reaching for his wife's hand. His wife of nine years; the mother of his eldest son; his first and only love in his lifetime. His wife, whose hand grew cold at every passing minute. The sound of the rain, brought a calm her nerves.
Grisha grimaced at the sight before him before muttering, "No, I can't do anything." Merkel felt his world shatter bit by bit, not even bothering to pick up the pieces. The whine of the newborn baby ripped through the silence in the room. A life had been brought into the world in exchange for another.
"Can I see Y/n?" The woman uttered, her voice just barely louder than a whisper. Grisha arose from his chair at the edge of the bed and carefully approached the bedridden woman with you in his arms. A simple white blanket covered your fragile figure. The woman struggled to sit up, wincing in the process.
"Eleisa, you mustn't push yourself!" Merkel warned, assisting her in her actions. The uproar caused you to cry, alarming your father. "What good will it do laying down and dying? The least I can do is receive the gift I carried for eight months." Her words sunk deeply into his heart. The only one in the room ignorant of her edging death was you, little Y/n who just took her first breaths of fresh air.
Eleisa cradled you gently as your father cradled her. Grisha quietly exited the room, the door shut echoing behind him. The kisses she peppered you in ceased your crying. She lightly rocked you, a smile gracing her tired features. You looked at her through fresh e/c optics, your father could've sworn it was Elesia looking back at herself. "Are you okay now?" She spoke tenderly.
Raising a finger to move the hair stuck to your forehead aside, she realized what was happening wasn't as surreal as it seemed. Processing this plight before her, tears filled her eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't be your mother longer," she sobbed, looking down at the babyface that mirrored her own. Merkel squeezed his wife tighter, observing how vacant her body was of warmth. Your grieving mother leaned back into his embrace. Her heavy, devastated tears plopped onto the plush cheeks of your face.
You smile airily at the tickling sensation you were introduced to as the tears trickle off your skin. Her gentle compassion would dwell within your consciousness for years to come. Elesia hoped that even if you didn't remember her, you would recall the soft and doting love she offered, and that when you were old enough to understand you would accept it.
The way she tenderly stroked your h/c crown; and eyed you lovingly through orbs like yours; assured you that you were the calm in the chaos of this tragic storm. She hoped you would even reminisce on the musky lemon scent she carried post-birth. And if no one else would embrace you as your world crumbled, she hoped you'd remember how she held your being with her heart, mind, and soul. You were the last thing her heart played its beat for.
Up on noticing his wife's still figure, he cautiously removed you from her brace. Nestling you closely, the tears he'd held back had been freed. A small boy at age 10 watched his father's muscular back shake, low sniffles leaving his body. It was the first time he'd seen his father cry. However, the boy was no better. He was not ignorant of what transpired. Treading lightly, the boy hugged his father, dampening the older man's gray shirt. Grisha watched the sentimental scene, the heat of guilt spread in his belly. Both men knew this was bound to happen.
