Meet Sarah, 20 years, a sweet and tender-hearted young girl, who, despite facing the harshness of life, always puts others' needs before her own. Her parents, unfortunately, have not been kind or supportive, leaving her feeling trapped and fearful o...
I couldn't help but entertain the thought that he would undoubtedly be a heartthrob, just like his dad. The smile on my face widened as I looked at Alex, who was already gazing at me.
"But he has a hint of hazel, just like you," he observed, smiling, and leaned in to kiss my lips.
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"I love you," he declared, and I reciprocated, "I love you too."
Shortly afterward, everyone else burst into the room, towering over us, inquiring about my well-being, and admiring our son.
My entire family was present—Alex, Dad, Maa, Papa, Mia, Daniel, and now Mia's child and ours.
Maa asked, "So, have you decided on a name for him?"
I looked at Alex, expecting him to announce the name, but he smiled and said, "You tell them, Dove."
"Dante," I declared, revealing our son's name.
The name received unanimous approval, sparking discussions and chatter. However, I couldn't stifle a yawn. Alex took Dante from my arms, asserting, "You need to rest, Dove."
Protesting, I clung to Dante, saying, "But I just woke up. I want to talk and be with my family."
"No, you need to rest first. We're all here, and when you wake up, we'll continue, okay?" Alex insisted, taking Dante into his arms and passing him to Maa.
He then covered me with a blanket, kissing my forehead. "Rest up, Dove."
***
I finally returned home after enduring a seemingly eternal two weeks of my 'luxury holiday' at the hospital. (Note the sarcasm here)
It's been three months since Dante was born, and I've been stuck in this bed for what feels like an eternity. Alex, in his perpetual worry, won't allow me to move an inch, not even to reach for a glass of water on the bedside table.
I understand his concern, especially after discovering that my fainting episode was more serious than mere exhaustion. However, I'm fine now, and he needs to realize that I must move, and walk a little, or my legs will forget how to function.
After much convincing, I managed to persuade him to let me walk to the bathroom. Otherwise, he'd carry me around like I was a fragile porcelain doll, destined to shatter upon contact with the ground.
During our hospital stay, Alex never left my side for a single moment. Dante was under Maa's care and only handed to me for feeding. Even then, Alex wore a grumpy expression if Dante took a little longer. He'd walk over, take Dante from me, and claim I'd hurt my arms. I'd protest, arguing that Dante weighed next to nothing, but who could argue with a grumpy Alex?
Upon returning home, he had everything meticulously arranged in our bedroom. Dante's crib and essentials occupied a corner next to his side of the bed. He even installed a walkie-talkie system connecting to Maa, his home office, and the kitchen, ensuring I could communicate if I needed anything.
