Downfall | ✔️

Chapter 53.

I look down, slowly scooping the little one into my arms where I rock them slowly, my finger tracing over the tiny hands as the cries quieten. "Shh," I whisper softly, cradling my arms back and forth gently.

"Her name is Dahlia," Steve's voice echos from the hall.

I turn slowly to see him leaning against the doorway, pride on his face as he looks at his newborn daughter. Daughter. She had a girl.

"She's beautiful," I smile, stroking her head as she lays comfortably in my arms.

"You seem to be doing a good job," he chuckles weakly, "I'll give you a minute alone." he closes the door, leaving me holding my new baby cousin—Dahlia.

"Hi, Dahlia," I whisper, "I'm your cousin. And I've been so excited to meet you." I take a seat on the chair, gazing down at her perfect features. She has perfect little eyes, a button nose, and the cutest head of hair—she reminds me of Isabella when she was born.

"I thought this would be different, when we met. I thought it would be in the hospital, with your mom—she was so excited to meet you too. You completed her little family." I bite my lip to stop it from quivering.

"She was like a mom to me too, you know?" I smile down at her, "Yes, she was."

I watch as her eyes flutter closed, as she comfortably drifts off to sleep.

"Sleep, baby. Everything will be alright in the morning." I say softly, kissing her head as I place her into the bassinet.

"That's what your mom used to tell me." I whisper, the tears beginning to fall once more.

I close the door behind me, jumping as Steve stands in the hallway. I wipe my tears and take a deep breath. "How did she.." I pause, unable to say the word.

"It was only minutes after Dahlia was born, she got to hold her, Amara—that's all she wanted." he tells me softly.

"All she wanted? What do you mean?" I furrow my brow nervously.

He sighs, placing his arm on mine, "Come and sit down, we'll talk."

I follow him to the living room where he takes a seat, patting the spot beside him. I sit down, anxiety filling my lungs with each breath.

"Amara..," he looks down, "There was a slim chance Carol would survive childbirth, we knew this from the day she conceived." his eyes meet mine as they brim with tears. I stare at him, unaware of what to say. That can't be right.

"What?" I gape.

"Carol had haemophilia, which means that-"

"Her blood doesn't clot, its a genetic disorder that means she lacks the factors which cause the clots, meaning injuries or childbirth automatically becomes a severe risk through blood loss," I interrupt. Suddenly, I wish I wasn't studying to be a nurse.

"Yes," he sighs, "Izzy's birth was risky enough, but with Dahlia's, we knew what we were risking, she knew she might have... not made it." he takes in a sharp breath.

"But she was adamant she would carry to full term, she wanted this baby to live, to grow up." he exhales deeply.

"Why didn't she tell me?" I begin to cry.

"Because she didn't want you to worry for nine months, Amara. She just wanted to spend as much time with you as possible in case the worst happened; and it.. did." he swallows. "There was too much blood loss, they just couldn't save her."

I squeeze my eyes closed as the tears build, "She knew, didn't she? She knew she wasn't going to make it. It's why she invited me to the birth, so I was there when she- when- and I wasn't there." I shake my head, the pain creeping back in all over again.

Everything starts to make sense, as though all the pieces are coming together. The daily phone calls, the countless visits and the conversations about how much she cared, telling me to stay strong and making sure Mason was there to take care of me. She was getting everything in line for this exact moment, she knew.

"That's why she spent so much time visiting me, telling me how much she loved me and always will, how I'm like a daughter to her and how much I changed her life," I sob, covering my face with my hands, "She knew she was going to die."

"She- she asked me to stay for dinner the last time I seen her and I didn't, I could've seen her one last time and I didn't- I should've been at the birth, I failed her, Steve." I ramble, sobbing as Steve pulls me into his chest, the muffled sobs from him filling my ears, too.

"Amara, she knows how much you loved her. She knows." he whispers softly against my hair.

"She wrote you a letter." he tells me sheepishly, as I pull away from his chest.

"She what?" I wipe my eyes.

"Like you said, Amara. She wanted everything to be in place in case the worst happened. She wrote you a letter, she wrote one for the girls, and for me and Dawn, too." he blinks away his own tears, my throat swelling.

"Where is it? I want to read it." I choke, frantically scanning the room.

"Not now, Amara—it's too fresh." he sighs.

"No, Steve! I need to read it, I need to." I tug at my hair frustratedly.

"Amara, she made me promise to wait till after the funeral, it's too raw." he takes my hands in his.

"I miss her already, Steve. It feels like my chest is collapsing in and everything is falling apart, I can't bare it." I bawl, gripping my chest.

"I know, I feel it too." he whispers.

—————

Steve decided to stay with us until after the funeral, he didn't want to be alone in that big house with the girls; and in all honestly I didn't want to be alone with my mom either.

Knowing that Steve will be here for a while eases some of the anxiety around the fact she's drinking again—relapsed. I understand that she's in pain, her sister is gone, but so am I, so is Steve. And I could really do with having my mom's support; yet somehow, I feel as though I'll be the one putting her to bed each night with an empty bottle of rum in hand.

I plan on helping Steve with Dahlia and Izzy as much as possible, even if it means getting up all hours of the night to feed the baby; I have a feeling I won't be doing much sleeping, anyway. I need something to distract me, having Dahlia here helps dull the silence for a while—because when it's silent, it's harder to deny the truth.

I feel more alone than ever, in my grief, in my denial, alone.