The Fallen Ones

Chapter 7 • The Fourth Summer

Maria:

You know how they always say to wait until after the first trimester to tell anyone you're pregnant? That it causes a jinx of sorts; a guarantee that there will be some issues. I should've headed that warning because only a few weeks after meeting Enzo's brothers, I lost the baby.

It was devastating. The baby hadn't been planned by any means but that doesn't mean the loss hurt any less. Enzo tried, he really did. And it hurt him too; after all he was the father. So Rosa came to pick up the pieces of our respective broken hearts.

The very first time Enzo and I had sex after the miscarriage was filled with tears and whispered 'I love yous.' And that very first time, I got pregnant again.

Neither of us said a single word about it to anyone. At all. Not until I couldn't hide my belly anymore.

I'm due any day now. We're having a little girl. A little girl who will be loved beyond comprehension. Who will never for a moment wonder what it's like to not have a family. Who will have everything she could ever want in the whole wide world. Who will grow up seeing her parents embarrassingly in love with each other.

I've decided to name her Isabelle. It's not an Italian name, I'm aware, but the meaning behind the name is too much to ignore. God's perfection. I think that suits our little miracle baby.

Enzo has been acting like a madman. Nesting is supposed to be the mother's thing, right? Well, Enzo has been meticulously preparing the castle for the baby. Slapping locks on doors and cupboards. Adding padding onto any sharp edges he comes across. Double, triple, quadruple checking that all of the guns are secure and far out of reach from any child.

While he stresses over safety measures, I get to do the fun stuff. The nursery is nearly done; painted a soft pink with a vintage crib. I'm currently tucking the little sheet into place on the mattress.

"Ow, fuck," a sharp pain radiates across my back.

I stand straight, resting my hand on my back. I must've been bent over too far for too long. This damned belly has been making my life increasingly difficult. I can't even reach my own feet to put on my shoes.

I shake my head and go over to the dresser. There's a few shopping bags sitting atop the carefully crafted dresser. As much as I try, I cannot stop buying little baby clothes. I'm sure she'll grow out of them before she even has a chance to wear it all. But I just can't help myself.

As I tuck some onesies into a drawer another sharp pain hits me in the back, radiating up my spine. I grimace and brace myself against the dresser.

Fine; I guess the baby doesn't want me doing anything today. Begrudgingly, I leave the nursery and head towards the office. Enzo's been locked in there for a while now. I should probably check on him; make sure he's still alive.

There's a pressure in my belly and liquid drips down my thighs. My eyes widen in shock at the pool at my feet. No fucking way.

Another pain shoots through my back. I brace my hand against the wall and groan. This can't be labor. No. This hurts far too much. I must be dying.

"Miss Maria," one of the soldiers rushes over. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Get Enzo," I order, breathing heavy.

A sharp pain radiates from the base of my spine down to my toes. Whether I'm in labor or I'm dying, I need to get to the fucking hospital.

The soldier disappears without another word. I lean my back against the wall and try to take deep breaths. I thought the miscarriage hurt? Jesus fucking Christ this is so much worse.