𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 | 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 [Collins]

Chapter 29 - All I've got

(revised)

Ever since Tomas had come into my life, light had shone in my heart again. What had been a never-ending suffering since I had lost Andrew, had turned into a promising new journey. Learning to be a mother was a discovery of every instant. Tomas had proved to be a very calm baby. His first month into the world had been wonderful. He was all I cared for, my everything, my treasure. I would never leave his side, too afraid to miss something, too afraid to be a bad mother if I did. But everything went well. Tomas was healthy, energetic and curious. Of course, he would cry from time to time and wake me up at night, like every other baby, but seeing his little face was a joy to my life, and having him by my side was a true blessing. I might have lost the love of my life, but I had been blessed with the purest gift, the most beautiful proof that this lost love had once been a reality: our son.

Being a mother came naturally, day after day. Fear of doing something wrong had gradually given place to the acceptance of motherhood being a constant learning. I had to trust myself for once, and agree to ask for help when I did not know what to do. Cathy and Jane had been amazing teachers. Thanks to them, my baby had received all the care he needed and become stronger with each day, easing my worry about his health.

Nothing came to darken those first months together, up until his sixth month, which coincided with the anniversary of Andrew's death... I had made the decision to stay in Scotland, knowing I would have been unable to bear his absence, to face the memories I had left behind me, in our flat. I would have to go back at some point, I knew it, but I was not ready yet.

Time had flown since the discovery of my pregnancy, and since Tomas's birth. Every new month of him by my side was also a reminder that his father had left this world too soon. A year before already. A year of not counting down the days until his return but adding them up since his disappearance; a year of crying to sleep every night and waking up with a broken heart at the realisation that it was not a bad dream; a year of not expecting any news from him and not writing any letter to describe my everyday life. Our story had come to an end that awful day of March, but I had to keep going and write my own story, without him.

Things had proved to be harder, all the more that with every month, Tomas looked more and more like his father, and Cathy kept reminding me of it. His light-blue eyes, his blond hair, his smile and even his nature, according to her. Tomas was an easy, happy child, like Andrew. I was so thankful for such likeness, for it allowed me to still have a bit of Andrew in my life, through my son, even though a simple smile or look from him could bring me on the verge of crying when I missed my husband the most.

But I had people who cared for me and a family to change my mind. Like that early spring afternoon, when the air was too chill and the sun too shy to spend the day outside. James had joined us for a few days, always keen to leave London where he was now based. He was an amazing godfather for Tomas, very protective and helpful, which allowed me to rest sometimes. It was something much needed, for my recovery after Tomas's birth had been long. I would agree to rest, but I would never go too far. Not because I did not trust James, but because I constantly felt the need to be around my baby. Mother instinct, probably. That thing was real.

And so, I had settled in the armchair next to the window, in the living room, observing James play with Tomas. There was something very sweet at seeing them together. James would totally transform in my son's presence, letting go of his armour, allowing himself to feel something, to give love and receive in exchange. That tall, broad man did not have to be strong when with us, he did not have to hide behind his uniform. Playing with Tomas was his favourite thing to do. He had sat with him in front of the fireplace and let him wriggle on the carpet while he waved a figurine of a lion in front of his face, triggering a smile from him. He had built a set of wooden animals as a birth present for my Tommy, bringing new species every time he would come visit us, so much that we now had the full Noah's Ark at home. I knew Tomas would love them when growing up, he already did, given how absorbed he was in the contemplation of this yellow lion moving and roaring in front of him. James had put so much heart in this gift, I had no doubt he loved my son more than anything in the world.