il mio primo e ultimo amore

Thousand Years

"It's whispered by the night's soft breath,
That they, forevermore, transcend even death.
In love's timeless grace from skies above,
They are, and will always be, each other's first and last love."

It's blur.

A faint, hazy recollection of sounds and whispers.

The cooing and hushed giggles break through, and then she blinks open her eyes, the world slowly coming into focus, and hears her child crying.

Her heart drops and melts at the same time, and she gasps, her eyes locking onto the sight of a bundle, swaddled in pink, cradled tenderly in Antonella's arms.

Cassandra stands nearby, her expression crestfallen, while Maria, a little further away, wipes her tears but can't help but smile wide.

Her heart plummets again.

Vincenzo.

Maria's gaze meets hers briefly, then she's back to wiping her tears, moving towards her. Cha Young looks back at Antonella and Cassandra, her eyes beginning to well up.

Her daughter starts to stir, and Cha Young hears Cassandra gasp. She places an arm gently on her mother's shoulder.

"Her eyes..." Cassandra pauses, fascinated, "Just like fratello's!"

Antonella nods, casting a warm glance at Cha Young, who returns it with a soft smile. Cassandra carefully lifts the baby, and Antonella moves closer to Cha Young.

Antonella takes Cha Young's IV-laced hand and caresses it gently. "You're the strongest soul I've ever met."

The words pierce through her, threatening to break her, but she's mastered the art of masking her grief and instead, she smiles even wider.

"Hold on a little longer," Antonella tells her. Cha Young sighs, longing to know just how much longer she'd have to wait to have him back again. His warmth, his presence. Her soul.

"His hands moved while you were taken away," Antonella says, her hand pausing in its caress, making Cha Young's heart stop.

"He's coming back," Antonella resumes the gentle touch, "Soon."

And with that, there it is.

Hope.

Cassandra moves closer to her smiling.

"Say hello to your Mamma, piccola.." She whispers and Cha Young laughs, the pain subsiding a bit.

"You had given her a very hard time in the past months and just a few hours back."

They hear the baby yawning, completely oblivious and unbothered and Cassandra coos while others laugh.

And then she's holding the bundle of warmth, the fruit of their love in her arms.

Swaddled in that pink blanket is Vianne Hong Cassano.

It had been decided early in South Korea–the name for their child, some night when he was singing lullabies and she was on the brink of sleep and he said "Buona Notte Piccola,"

She'd looked up at him from where she was nestled against his chest, dramatically raising her brows.
"Piccola?" She'd questioned, her voice laced with tease.

He'd smiled, and planted a chaste kiss on her lips.

That led to more questions and then it had been decided, a name for both girl and boy.