ONE SHOTS MARINA (ENGLISH)

29. Strenght

 P.O.V. CARINA DELUCA-BISHOP

Finally, the house was quiet. After an exhausting night, full of crying, diapers and lullabies, I could lie down and feel the silence enveloping me like a soft blanket.

Nina, finally overcome by fatigue, was sleeping deeply in the bed adapted to the side of our bed. I could hear her soft breath, a comforting sound after hours of restlessness.

Liam had also given trouble. He, normally quiet, seemed to feel all the tension of the environment, as if he knew something was wrong. He kept calling for Maya, wanting her presence, her comfort, and my heart was pressing to try to calm him while I felt her absence.

After many whispers, stories and songs, he finally gave in and fell asleep in his small room. And now, the silence, the desired calm, had fallen upon the house.

Nina was only two weeks old, and by then she was a calm baby, sleeping well at night, something that surprised me from the beginning. But not today.

Today, she seemed to be against sleep as if she knew that something was out of place, something that disturbed the balance we were beginning to get used to. Motherhood was undoubtedly a constant challenge, even for someone like me who has dedicated her life to studying and caring for children and births.

But when it's your own baby, everything is different. The weight is another, and the love that you feel makes each little difficulty even more significant.

I sighed, letting my muscles relax against the pillow. The room was dark, only the soft light of the next lamp lit up Nina's crib and a part of the room. She would stay there, next to us, for another month, until my wife finished her room.

Maya was so dedicated to it, with so much love and attention to detail. Her room would be perfect, but that perfection was taking time, something we knew she didn't have much because of the shifts.

My mind began to wander, already half asleep, but then I heard the familiar sound of the front door opening. Maya was back.

But something in the sound of her footsteps down the hall made me alert. They were slow, heavy.

Something was wrong. And even before I saw her, I knew who the ghost was.

Lane Bishop.

When the door of the room opened slowly, and I saw her face, my heart tightened. She seemed exhausted, but not in the way that physical work left her.

It was not only the fatigue of those who spent hours on duty. It was that other kind of tiredness, the emotional one, which goes beyond physical fatigue and settles in the soul, weighing on its shoulders in a way that only I, perhaps, could perceive.

She said nothing. Just stood at the door for a moment, as if she needed some time to breathe before entering our space completely, the only place where she should feel safe. I knew she was trying to keep her composure, but her gaze denounced the whirlwind of emotions.

- Ciao, amore - I whispered softly, trying not to wake Nina up while I got a little bit up in bed - Are you okay?

She did not respond immediately. Her eyes, usually so full of determination, were distant, as if she was struggling to keep control.

Finally, she walked to the bed, sitting on the edge with a heavy sigh, her hands over her face in an automatic gesture of frustration.

- It was a long day - she muttered, not looking at me.

Her voice was low, almost cold, but I knew it was a barrier she was raising, trying to hide the pain. That answer so vague and without emotion confirmed what I already knew.

He had come back to torment her in some way. It was always so.

Whenever Maya was like that, so distant, so stuck in herself, I knew her father was involved. Even from a distance, even with the years of separation, he still could reach her in a way that no one else could.

- Lane? - I asked softly, knowing she would understand that I wasn't asking if he had appeared physically, but if he was in her head, in her thoughts, poisoning everything around.

She sighed deeply, shaking her head slowly, without looking at me.

- I saw him at work today - the words came out with a huge weight, as if every syllable was a stone she needed to push up mountain.

My breath was suspended for a moment. I knew how much it affected her, how much each encounter with her father made her shake. The man was an open wound in Maya, one that seemed never to heal, no matter how hard she tried.

I approached her, putting a delicate hand on her shoulder, wanting to offer comfort, but knowing that with her, sometimes words were not enough.

- Did he say anything to you? - I asked, keeping my voice down, trying not to press her, but knowing she needed to talk about it.

Maya finally turned to me, and the sadness in her eyes hit me like a punch in the stomach. It wasn't just anger she was feeling, it was deep disappointment, that kind of pain that comes from someone you once loved but who constantly hurts you.

- He just... He just looked at me as if I was still that little girl who would never be good enough for him - her voice broke a bit, and I could see how much it hurt her, even though she tried to disguise.

My heart hurt for her. I wish I could take this pain away, I wanted to protect her from it, but I knew it was something only she could face.

- Bambina... - I started, but she interrupted me with a sad smile, shaking her head.

- I know, Carina. I know he doesn't deserve a space in my life right now. But... It's so hard to turn that off!

She looked at Nina in the crib, and her eyes softened a little. I knew she was struggling to reconnect with the present, with our life, with our family.

- Look at her, bella - I whispered, wrapping my arm around her softly - Look at the life we've built. He has no place here. That's ours. You're a wonderful mother, and that's all that matters.

She nodded, still silent, but I knew that my words were beginning to penetrate that wall she had erected around her.

And there we were, in silence, as I hugged her tightly, holding her, promising with my touch that I would be there for her and our family, always.