An Episode of Life

I'm pulled out of my daze by the soft, questioning sound of baby Sophie. I sit up straight, instantly alert, and make my way toward her transparent box just a few feet from our bed.

"What is it, Sweetheart?" I whisper gently as I lean over her. She replies with another tiny whimper, her little lips twitching, eyes still closed.

I cradle her into my arms, one hand supporting her head, the other already checking her pamper with practiced care. Still dry.

With Sophie nestled against my chest, I head to the kitchen to warm up Jennifer's breast milk—frozen in small bottles for Sophie's nightly feeding. After nearly two weeks of this routine, my hands move on autopilot. I barely need to think. My body just knows what to do. Even the timing—I can feel it in my bones when the milk's the right temperature, as if our rhythm has synced.

Yes. It's been ten days since Jennifer came home from the hospital.

To give her uninterrupted rest, I've taken on all the night shifts. No sleep, but I don't mind. I couldn't sleep if I tried—not with everything swirling in my head. The weight of our reality, the shadow of what almost happened… the uncertainty of what might still happen.

"Here we go, Sweetie…" I murmur softly as I place the pacifier gently in her mouth. "You're hungry, aren't you?"

The moment the pacifier touches her lips, Sophie latches on and starts drinking eagerly. The anxious tension in my chest lifts a little, and I smile—genuinely, without thinking.

There's something about watching her that grounds me. Despite everything, she's my joy. My anchor.

Since Jennifer's condition demands absolute calm, I've held myself back—even from teasing her, even from joking around. I miss that part of us. I miss laughing with her.

A soft beep from my watch snaps me out of my thoughts. It's an alert—Jennifer's heart rate has changed. Slightly elevated. Nothing alarming, but it's enough to push my legs into motion.

I return to the bedroom—and there she is, already standing at the doorway.

"Why are you awake, Baby?" I ask softly, approaching her.

"Nothing," she answers with a faint smile that tries to mask fatigue. "I just missed your heartbeat," she adds, her voice sweet and playful.

That line. It melts me. I chuckle, shaking my head.

"Since when did you become a charmer?" I tease, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

She crosses her arms with exaggerated frustration. "Since my husband stopped seducing me," she says with a theatrical pout.

I lean in and kiss her lips. A soft, short kiss. "I miss seducing you too, wifey," I whisper against her smile.

"Then seduce me," Jennifer dares, eyes sparkling.

I laugh, cupping her cheek. My thumb strokes her skin like I'm holding porcelain. "I will—when your heart's stronger."

She pouts again, a real one this time. I kiss her forehead once more and whisper, "Soon."

"Let's put Sophie to bed," I say, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "then get a bit more sleep while we can."

Jennifer nods and leans gently into me, her body warm and familiar against mine. Together, we move toward the quiet promise of rest, carrying the fragile peace of this night with us.

After placing a peacefully sleeping Sophie back into her little crib, Jennifer and I return to our bed. She rests her head on my chest, her breathing slow and steady. My right arm cradles her gently while my left hand draws soothing circles along her back. It's a rhythm now—almost like second nature—but tonight, something inside me feels heavier.

My mind slips away from the quiet of the moment, drawn back to the thoughts that have haunted me for days.

The results came in not long after I offered myself as Jennifer's heart donor.

It crushed me.

Not only are our blood types incompatible, but my rhesus factor is also different. My heart... the one I desperately wanted to give her... it's useless. I can't even donate my blood to her, let alone my heart.

Bob has been trying. We made a massive offer on the black market—ten million in liquid assets, and more in reserves. I told him I'd give it all, every cent, just for one heart that matches Jennifer's. Still, there's been no response. Bob's reach is limited. He's the only door I have left, now that Andy's gone. And Thief...

My thoughts are abruptly scattered as I feel something stir. A spark—sudden, unexpected, intense.

I blink down. Jennifer has shifted beside me. She's now kneeling, her hands soft on my hips, her head lowered. Her touch is slow, intentional—intimate.

"Baby..." I manage to whisper, my voice catching as my brain catches up to what's happening. "Babe... don't. You don't have to—"

She doesn't stop. I gently reach down, cupping her face, easing her away from me with trembling hands.

"Stop, Baby..." I whisper again, brushing her hair behind her ears. She lifts her gaze to meet mine, her expression trembling.

"Why?" she asks quietly, her voice cracking.

"I don't want to take anything from you when you can't fully share in it... Not like this," I whisper. My throat burns, and I swallow down the lump rising. "I can't enjoy something that reminds you of what you've lost."

Tears swell in her eyes. "But I want to do something for you... Anything... I feel so useless," she chokes, her voice breaking as the tears begin to fall.

"No, Baby. No," I whisper, pulling her into my arms.

Her sobs grow heavier, her chest rising with labored breaths. My watch buzzes gently on my wrist, alerting me to her rising heart rate.

"Shhh..." I soothe, reaching for the nightstand while holding her close. I draw a sedative into the syringe. "Just relax, Baby... please."

She doesn't resist when I take her arm and gently press the needle into her vein. A few moments later, her breathing slows, her body relaxing in my arms. Her head droops onto my shoulder as the medicine takes effect.

I shift us gently, leaning back against the headboard. I cradle her across my lap, her cheek resting on my chest, our bodies close as one. My fingers glide along her back in soft, slow circles. Her tears still wet her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs weakly.

"Don't be," I whisper into her hair, kissing the top of her head. "This isn't your fault."

Her voice is so soft it nearly disappears. "I feel... useless."

I hold her tighter, fighting the sting behind my eyes. "You are everything, Baby. This is just temporary. I promise. We're going to get through this—together. Okay?"

She nods faintly. "Together," she echoes.

"Yes... together," I say again, more to reassure myself than her.

Still cradling her, I press a kiss to her forehead and ask, "Wanna hear a story?"

She nods against me, and I smile.

"Once upon a time, there was a goddess in heaven... fierce, powerful, breathtaking. She had red hair, green eyes—"

"And chewy lips," Jennifer mumbles with the hint of a smile.

I chuckle. "Yes. So delicious that every god wanted her, but no one dared approach her."

"Because she was too powerful," she adds sleepily.

"Exactly. Until one day, she came to earth and met a man—ugly, awkward..."

"He wasn't ugly," she whispers.

"Hey, it's my story," I tease gently. "Anyway, this man was afraid of her too. But he fell so hard for her that he braved the storm. And when they finally touched... they both fell in love."

"Did they live happily ever after?" she murmurs.

"They did," I say.

There's a pause, then a quiet grin in her voice. "And... did they have good sex?"

"The best," I say with a smirk.

She smiles against my chest. "I love your stories."

"I love you, Baby," I whisper, placing one more kiss on her head.

"Thank you... I love you," she murmurs, her voice fading as she drifts to sleep.

"I love you more," I whisper, letting my tear fall silently, holding her close through the silence of the night.