Amber was being melodramatic.
That was the only explanation she had for the utter misery that ravaged her stunned, dazed body. She was ridiculously fortunate to have seven men in her entourage, and Rumi's body never left the arms of her fathers.
The child did not need to lie in her mother's paralyzed arm for more than a few minutes at a time. And there was plenty of excuse not to, between sips of seaweed soup her soulmates insisted she consume, and with the stitches lining her belly like traps that could spring open with blood.
Their enthusiasm was a blessing in disguise, one that made guilt stir in Amber's guts.
While she did not want to hold the child longer than she needed to, her soulmates were determined to carry her as long as they could. Her lovers had expected a premature baby—riddled with blue veins and skin so thin it was almost see-through.
More than once they spoke tales of themselves, circling outside the operation theatre picturing an infant strapped into a machine that whirred. A child covered with tubes that fed and nourished, a child on the brink of death.
None dared to dream of the baby that was healthy enough to take each breath on her own and move with an energy unlike one of her size. And that seemed to fuel her soulmates with a grateful zeal for the riches they were blessed with. A benefit to the ordeal that could only get worse.
There were moments when Amber watched as her soulmates whispered sweet nothings to their daughter, gentle smiles that had her heart melting for their radiating love. Her heart was not immune to what she could only describe as the picture-perfect image of their future.
JieMi would kiss Rumi as MinJae bent over to watch, giggling as their heads bumped and the child stared. Sunlight bathed the trio in a wash of gold, as the others jiggled toys and took photographs of the smiling baby. Rumi seemed to like them more than Amber, evident in the gummy smiles she gave them. It was a thought that greatly disturbed Amber and made the task of loving her seem harder.
The baby and her soulmates were generic symbols of love, models of parenthood illuminated by soft sun and sweet little gurgles. A bleeding contrast to the failure that was Amber's heart, so lacking in love, and so lacking in empathy. And God, she hated these thoughts, knew with deadly accuracy that her head was harping on dangerous self-loathing words that one shouldn't repeat.
No one could be perfect.
She shouldn't even try to be.
And there was no reason for her to strive or think of the difficulties of achieving such perfection. It was idiotic; it was childish. It was ideas that shouldn't grace the mind of an adult that should know by now that adults were never perfect.
As much as she'd boasted about perfection in the eyes of Casper's family, there was no law tying her to achieve such ideals. She didn't have to make homemade food if she couldn't do it. She didn't have to worry about fucking up when she had yet to learn or try.
Amber just wasn't mentally prepared for the weight of Rumi that she had to bear on her shoulders. Amber would get better with time. She was sure of it. Her soulmates were sure of it.
And of course, the relationship she had with her child shouldn't bear the brunt of such vicious thoughts. Notions that she should stamp out like a wet towel or baking soda to grease fire in the pot, instead of the bucket of water she seemed to continuously douse upon the flames. Even if the thoughts felt right, just as how water to fire felt right. It was knowledge that would burn her to the ground.
Her child.
It was starting to register in her head, the idea that this stranger had been borne from her body, laid silently in her guts like a corpse in a cemetery. While the child was ugly—none would deny that she was wrinkled like an elderly, wailed like a banshee and frowned so deep her eyes always seemed angry—Amber would admit that Rumi was cute with her tiny fingers and toes.
Miniature things were adorable.
Always.
How blessed you are, her in-laws said through video calls, that you didn't experience a single one of the Godawful parts of pregnancy.
The crazed attempts to impregnate during ovulation; the nausea that plagued through oversensitive nostrils; the inability to sleep through the night; and then the constant need to piss because she just couldn't fully empty her bladder with a child sleeping on her organs.
And then of course, they questioned the reasons why she didn't know of Rumi's existence.
Wouldn't you have felt her kick?
Your belly should have felt round and hard...
There's no way you didn't know right?
Good fucking God, Amber would be fucking thankful if she knew those fluttery growls of gas in her belly had actually been her tiny little daughter pounding a weak fist against her fleshy walls. She would have been a million times happier if she'd learnt of Rumi's existence months before she was born.
At least then she had a damned choice. Phantom as it was with her soulmates desperately eager for child, and her youngest lover traumatized by abortions, the choice was everything to her. The ability itself was a form of liberation that Amber so dearly lacked. At least then she would be certain that she wanted Rumi, that she anticipated Rumi, that she loved Rumi.
But all that sarcastic anger in her head would later come with a sickening realization that maybe she did know something was wrong. That everything could have been prevented if she chose to acknowledge her pea brained self that thought— Even though I'm menstruating, I could be pregnant, right?
On hindsight, she would later admit that the blood that spewed from her vagina was a tad lesser than normal. And that there had always been a niggling little possibility in her head that somehow all the contraception had failed on her. That she'd panicked about pregnancy more than once as she snatched the birth control from its box, fearful when she had been a late to consume it.
She'd assumed the world had been going her way, until the path vanished under her feet and she was left stranded in the sky.
The lack of preparation first slammed its ugly fist against her head when the task of feeding her daughter came up. Amber had to eventually, now that she was awake and well enough to become her daughter's personal 24/7 restaurant. At first, she'd been genuinely excited about the prospect of bonding with her daughter.
Assumptions loomed in her head of a child latching upon the nipple, an easy smile dripping from a love-melted mother. The sweet eye contact, the warm cuddling, the cultivation of a beautiful relationship. The maternal bond she should have developed during pregnancy and child birth would be rightfully given during lactation.
Maternal Oxytocin circulation was what she needed; science seemed to say.
Breastfeeding hormones would rouse her from the soup of stress, bring forth empowerment and heal the trauma of all that she'd experienced. It would brainwash her straight to become the mothers she knew and the mother she expected to be. It was all just more crap that her brain repeated in poorly educated circles of nerves.
Or at least that was what the articles said in a harped, squeaky sing song voice. Just as peaceful was the videos that the hospital shared and the pamphlets of smiling mothers and smiling babies. Amber decided later that those were written by people who felt nothing in their nipples, people who'd already punctured their tits into oblivion and were numbed to the bone.
Normality.
She wanted to achieve normality: to be the same as every mother in the entire society.
Even IF she felt like crap when she was tasked to do it.
Naturally, her daughter seemed to feel the same way that she did, reflected in the frog like scowl of her face and the horribly angry line between her brows. The baby twisted, a distinct lack of interest as she shifted in her arms, a little confused when faced with a human nipple that she was supposed to suck.
Nipple confusion. With Amber's disappearance, Rumi had already long found an equivalent substitute in plastic bottles and powdered milk. And even if Amber's nipples had long turned a darker, deeper rose just so her almost blind daughter could take aim and fire Rumi wasn't the least bit interested in the target.
The nurse seemed determined to shove Amber's nipple in her daughter's face. They were governed by experience and education, and were unrelentingly certain that the child would seek for her nipple like a missile towards the enemy. Experience that just made Amber feel a hundred times worse when they failed more than once.
The professionals struggled with Rumi's head and her boobs, attempted bumps that barely worked. The bump of dusky rose upon cheeks only resulted in an angry gurgle and then a wail for the bottle. She didn't want Amber's flat useless nips when she could have chewy plastic.
Frustration.
They gave up when Rumi finally latched in all the wrong ways, a chomp of gum upon Amber sensitive nipple that had her rearing back with horror. A yelp escaped her lips as pain stabbed her in the chest and radiated to her armpits. Reflex had her jostling Rumi out of her already pretty damn uncomfortable bed—Amber's unresponsive stick like arms.
Yet again the baby squalled, frustrated and more furious than ever. And Amber's expression fell as her hand rubbed at the bits of her that felt as if they were on the verge of breaking. It was like a slam of a door over her fingers, only her fingers were her nipples and the door was the gummy strength of her baby's mouth.
The rejection from Rumi stung more than it should.
It burned.
"You'll be fine, mama," the nurses soothed, "baby will learn how to latch properly soon, and your breasts will get used to the feeling." It seemed that her nipples just had to learn to withstand the pain of it all and grow as calloused as they could be.
"What if she doesn't?" Amber had echoed, cream applied to her aching nipples with gentle fingers.
"There's formula, if you can accept it. But it'll be better for the baby if you can breastfeed."
It would be better, they said. Better. Better. Better. Because she would be on her way to becoming a shitty mother the moment she failed in producing milk. They told her to get into the task of producing more colostrum, yellow thick substance that was coined liquid gold to her child.
But even that came in miniscule droplets that frothed at the tips. It hurt to squeeze, hurt to pump, and she did both until her breasts were red and sore because she had to or else her factory might just scream 'enough is enough'. And when she wasn't squeezing, her child would attempt to tear out to what little she could give in all of the most painful ways possible.
It isn't normal for a latch to hurt, the nurses said. It will be fine soon.
But it hurt all the time.
Liars. She briefly wondered if the nurses were just reciting knowledge from books written by uneducated men. She'd bite back sobs during each attempted feeding, and when milk finally did come in greater dribbles thanks to her consistent pumping through the night. It was too little to fill Rumi's tummy.
In response, Rumi bit so hard that her breasts grew cracked and blood seeped. Amber dreaded feeding her, the child that seemed more determined to scream into her breasts than eat, not interested in bloodied milk. Amber wouldn't blame her.
Amber hated feeding her, because she was always on the verge of tears from the pain.
And Rumi seemed to hate it just as much with the mere drops of red stained watery liquid she could give her. And her baby grew tired and angry with each attempt, too sleepy to eat at the end of it.
Her body didn't seem to be on the same page when it came to feeding her child.
So it was usually with a disappointing cluck and a disapproving sigh, did Rumi leave her nipples to be offered a big heavy dose of formula milk from the hospital. A job that her soulmates happily offered to do.
"It's not good for the baby, isn't it?" Sieon had said out loud later as he bounced Rumi in his arms as she drank. "My grandmother said that babies should drink breastmilk for their health, they get a better immune system."
"It protects against infection and other diseases," Casper waved his phone in the air, and Amber had the distinct urge to punch it. "We should try to give her that."
"It's good for the brain?" Oliver frowned as he glared at the pamphlet that sprouted positives of breast feeding. And in response, Amber squeezed at her breasts and the lack of it. Well, it seemed that without the blessed food of nature her child would be fated to lose her braincells.
"We've already neglected her prenatal care; we shouldn't cut corners when it comes to her development."
"That's what my mom said too!"
"But what if Amber isn't capable of producing more? It's been a few days..."
"Her body should know that it has to, right? Her body should know that she's a mother now."
"Hey," Ezra's voice was a slice through the air, a hand on her shoulder was a pause that had her breathing again. "If she can't produce enough milk, does it matter? She's been trying all night. I was raised on formula. It doesn't matter if she can't. The baby will live, and its brain will be fine. You're stressing her up."
There was a pause and then the eyes turned to her, they read the tension and stress in her face. And then bodies moved, hands reached and pity filled the room like gas popped from a canister. It was moments like this when Amber wanted nothing more than for things to go back to normal, to the days when their eyes just didn't feel like judgemental stabs upon her skin.
"Sorry Amber, I know it's hard..." Hikaru murmured, stroking her hair. "Your body hurts, doesn't it?" He held her closer, pulled her into his arms with a soft whisper. "My darling girl." He kissed her hair, still as loving as always, but yet his arms felt strange against her.
She didn't understand herself, not with the amount of help she was getting. There was no reason to be so frustrated over minute incidents, no reason to cry over something as simple as this. But God did the feeling of failure pile up high over her shoulders and weighed upon her conscience.
"It hurts a bit," she whispered than struggled through a smile. "Hurts to move. That's what I get for having my intestines pulled out. But I hate breastfeeding her more."
Her thoughts were depressing as fuck—mood as sour as the bile that thickened in her throat to the size of an apple. And the tears were everywhere; the desperate snot-filled warmth whenever the bullets were loaded in the water gun that was her respiratory system. But the sadness came in waves of desperately swallowed down tears.
But the Guilt. It kept her going.
"You can stop," there was a panicked smile from her Sieon. He felt bad for his words, she knew he did from the way he bounced from one foot to the next. "If it's too hard, it really doesn't matter what our parents say. I believe in science. After all, our parents wanted you to avoid baths for more than a week because it'll be bad for the body—"
"Surely, that's just superstition." The varying Asian customs from their different cultures were just other things that Amber had to remember to abide by.
"They're afraid you'll catch a cold, but we can blow dry your hair when you take a bath so that's fine. You'll have to agree that the no visitors rule does make sense...Wouldn't want guests spewing germs on Rumi."
"And I can't leave the house..."
"No, try not to stay outdoors for too long..." JieMi's lips quirked. "Not for a month at least."
A rule that their cultures all shared from fears of peril from the weather, the disease harbouring stranger and possible bad luck from the outdoors. Casper's lips had twitched as he stepped forward with a suggestion.
"Would you like to go to a postpartum centre instead?" he offered.
They were like hotels for mothers, armed with nurses ready to care for the new born and spa like treatments to lull Amber into full health. It would be tempting if it didn't mean the possibility of being left alone in the centre. She'd much prefer it if they rented a home for her right next to the venue instead.
"It's expensive..." She echoed out.
"But you could make some friends...Other mothers. And it might feel like a holiday—"
She smiled; lips curled. "I-I don't know..."
She didn't like how the nurses, the doctors and the lactation consultants in the hospital that pushed for what they wanted, invading her personal space all night. She couldn't imagine staying at a place like this for a month, and the price tag for one of her status scared her.
This wasn't the time to spend with the instability of their finances.
"Maybe not...I'll be fine with just my Mom and a nanny."
They exchanged glances and Amber averted her eyes.
"It'll work out, I promise. The learning curve is just ridiculously steep." Casper reassured her, rubbing her shoulders. He took it as a sign to massage the knots from her back, his fingers pressing into the kinks that littered her skin from stress. "What you are feeling is perfectly normal, okay?"
Her lips quivered at his words as she sunk into his touch.
"I swear I panicked so bad when I didn't support her head the first time," MinJae laughed. "Thank God JieMi was there. I felt like a piece of shit when she cried like I just stabbed her with a pen."
"You should have seen me wearing her diapers, didn't know where to stick."
"We've just had a few more days than you to understand her, so don't beat yourself up, okay?" Oliver grinned, poking her cheeks. "We'll teach you what we know, and we'll learn everything else with you."
"B-but what about the tour?" Amber whispered. "It starts in a week."
Her eyes darted as her mind nudged her gently reminding her that the tour would last for more than half a year. But she shoved it down not wanting be worried, they promised to be there for her as much as they could. And she knew her soulmates would try their best to make things work. All families suffered with the concerns of work-life balance. Hers was no different.
"We've survived on lesser sleep," Ezra said, but there were purple bruises under his eyes and Amber's lips pursed with the knowledge that they were pulling all-nighters just to practice when they can. "You can take it easy. Don't push yourself if it's too tough, don't continue if it hurts too much. Your mom will be here soon for the month and you'll feel so much better with her help."
"Yeah." Her eyes grew warm. "I suck at this."
"That's fine, Momo." Hikaru kissed her fingers, and smiled through star-like eyes. "None of this is your fault okay? If the baby's fed, the baby's fed. I don't care if the lactation consultants think you have to breastfeed."
"It's their job, they need it to work," JieMi pointed out. "If no one gave a fuck they'll be fired."
"Right," she gave him a watery smile. "You're right." A shaky breath and then a sigh as she leaned against Casper's chest. "But I really, really suck at this." She whispered. A soft quake in her voice came along with a rush of sadness that she hadn't felt before. That feeling was new to her, too new.
"We all do."
"Of course, no one taught us how to care for a baby, we're all newbies here."
"We'll be fine. We can learn together!"
"Don't worry about a thing, we'll help you."
"If you started out absolutely amazing at all of this, I would be really, really sad."
"What the fuck does that mean JieMi?"
"I-I mean I would feel really inadequate? Because Rumi's still peeing out of all the diapers, I put on her."
"This isn't a competition dumbass. Ignore him baby, you know we love you right?"
"Of course." Her lips quirked.
But when Amber laid in bed that night after a failed attempt to feed Rumi, sleep did not come. Instead, she turned to the side and for some reason tears began to flow from her eyes. Crushing defeat filled her lungs until she was drowning from the inside.
Her second failure did not settle quietly in her bleeding heart.
*
Hikaru
The baby was like a bomb upon the paper white of their existence; lives that had been picked apart and torn to shreds. The family of eight, now nine, once ran on plans. Multiple, multiple pre-discussed plans.
Hikaru adored those plans because they provided a sense of transparency that their family so desperately needed. There were plans for food, chores, work, life and sex; and those plans allowed for the meticulous perfection of their work-life balance—previously an iron bowl, but now a glass cup hovering upon a tightrope of stress.
The baby was poorly timed; the necessary fourteen-hour long rehearsals were now cut into bits for the child. And with the swap of each group from stage to rented home, from idols to fathers; exhaustion flooded their bodies and clouded their minds with the need for sleep.
There was no time to think about anything, only more time to work.
Nonetheless, with an equivalent comparison from their pre-debut days, the situation wasn't too daunting to the seven. It was even easier to sweep their minds into a robotic work mode, banish the complaints that thickened in their throats and sink into the arms of fortitude.
They had to be strong for their younger soulmate who was broken from the upheaval of her life.
Tag teams were created when Amber's mother sprained her back just hours before her flight, and the nanny that they'd flippantly assumed would be easy to hire became an impossible task for one of their status and needs.
Who would have known that a good postpartum doula had to be booked a whole year before the child was born?
But that was fine, because takeout was available, and hired cleaners could vanquish dirt if necessary. The men had taken baby classes and they seemed to have learnt enough from the nurses who had at least armed them with a plethora of information. Theoretically, their family had more than enough people to care for one tiny little baby.
That was, if they didn't have the tour haunting their bodies like a ghost waiting to take them under.
I can't do it alone! Amber had said in his arms; her skin was so pale that it frightened him. I can't do this without all of you. I will pass out from exhaustion; I could drop the child—W-what do I do if I drop her?
The unshed tears stood out like a beacon in the dark and pain had pierced him straight through the soul. But all Hikaru could do was hold her close and whisper promises that they would do everything in their power to make things easier for her. His angel had withered and clung to him until she had to let him go.
Rumiko Isabelle Pei was a baby that did not like to sleep, and loved to scream.
She melted his heart with her size—little fingers and toes, tiny ears and nose, a fragile body that he cradled close to his heart. She had the darkest of eyes—whirlpools of pure wonder—and the sweetest smile—beautiful gurgles that made his chest warm and tight. Hikaru was in love the moment he laid his eyes on her.
How could he not love the baby that was the fruit of their love? The final piece of their family?
But she seemed to detest everything, even sleep. And God did those words seem to indicate that he hated Rumi just because she didn't yield to his wants. But Hikaru swore that his little baby could just be a tad of a psychopath; and a born singer because of how loud she could screech with her tiny little lungs, yelling for hours on end without wearing herself out.
Could a baby refuse sleep? Hikaru had no idea. But she seemed to be born a princess with a pea lodged in her back. And as much as Hikaru loved her dearly; her gurgles were adorable when he rubbed his nose on her cheeks and kissed her belly. She was a dreadfully fussy girl that needed everything to be perfect.
She cried too much, refused to be put down, and the only person with magical hands that could get her to settle was JieMi. JieMi, who was ridiculously smug about that fact. He loved the idea of being a baby whisperer and he relished the uncontested truth that their daughter seemed to enjoy his arms more than the others.
The fact was JieMi bounced two times more than everyone else and was thus a more effective, machine-like, baby rocker than the rest of the family. He was also armed with well-set muscles that when unused could be a flawless bed of impeccable softness for their daughter.
But despite everything they'd done to reduce the burden upon Amber's shoulders: the chores, the cooking, the massages, the attempts to take the baby out of her hands whenever they could. A dreadful exhaustion clung to Amber's bones, quickly stripping her off the healthy weight she once had.
She'd grown so much quieter from the weariness; all that left her mouth were clipped words about the baby and the baby only. They barely heard her speak of anything else aside from the things they had to do for Rumi, and the things she had to do for Rumi.
She seemed like a zombie; one that oozed around the temporary house with Rumi attached to her nipples; bawling with anger at her mother for everything. And it pained him when the relief flooded her face whenever they took the freshly fed baby from her arms so that she could escape to the furthest end of the house, away from her piercing shrieks.
So much guilty happiness would ripple through her when Hikaru tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead, promising a full three hours of sleep that night. They would pull all-nighters just to give her more time in bed if they could.
But the reason for most of her exhaustion was breastfeeding.
Amber needed to feed Rumiko every hour or two with what little milk she could produce. Her breastmilk proved to be too watery and too difficult for Rumiko to drink, resulting in an angry baby that would impede their sleep demanding for food.
There was not a moment of grumbled protest from her lips. Their lover seemed to be just as much in working mode as they were. And her brain appeared to be just as equivalently reduced into a goop of sleepy monsters.
It was their fault.
They'd done a poor job in convincing her that formula was perfectly fine.
Half the team was just as brainwashed by their families that human milk was much better than scientifically manufactured crap. Those facts were reinforced by the calls from their mothers each week with thousands of tips and things that they had to do.
And thus, when the toll of their decisions grew obvious before their eyes— in the thinned gauntness of their soulmate's face from just mere days out of the hospital—it became difficult for them to convince Amber that she didn't have to listen to every damn word.
She'll become stupid if she doesn't drink breastmilk, a baby needs her mommy's milk.
Rumiko doesn't weigh enough for a child her age, she's so skinny. Is she normal?
She cries all the time and doesn't sleep? How strange...Your soulmate was nothing like this.
Are you sure she's healthy? Maybe, you should visit a doctor.
She's crying all the time? It's probably because of her milk.
Rumiko was crying again.
Hikaru groaned, blurrily rising from his bed, automatic as he moved to turn on the small desk lamp. The place they'd rented was smaller, with thinner walls and hence sharper sounds. He rubbed his eyes then squinted at the other men sleeping in makeshift beds in their smaller shared space.
Three to each room. Two or three to each fatherly unit. At night they had individual shifts to maximise sleep. Change the baby, calm the baby, take the baby to her sleeping mother for food, check the baby, lull the baby to sleep. Sometimes, Rumiko wanted none of that. Sometimes, she wanted all of it. Sometimes, she only wanted to cry.
One could never be too sure.
There was a quiet moment of desperation as his eyes flickered to the clock that screamed a time that was familiar to his head. 5AM was his duty, his shift, his turn to hold Rumiko. He stood and tore towards the door then paused as memories flooded his head.
The concert.
Amber would care for their daughter all night just for that day. He sagged against the wall, breathing softly as he closed his eyes. It was moments like this when a strange sense of liberation would feed his soul.
He considered, with guilty relish, going back to bed and pretending that he didn't hear the muffled screams beyond the walls. Rumiko was high maintenance, and nothing like the easy children his older brother seemed to have. She needed constant soothing to stave off the hysterical screams that erupted from her lips.
He considered leaving his soulmate alone.
And Hikaru could do it with good reason. He needed the sleep to dance and to sing; he needed the energy to make it through the concert that would prove taxing to his body. But his feet moved before he could think, quiet resignation and a soft smile danced across his cheeks.
How could Hikaru leave his angel alone?
She was pacing the room when he found her. And his heart squeezed as sleep faded from his eyes providing him with clarity. Amber's body was a riot of stress as she patrolled the edge of the room, up and down she went in strides as she bounced the child in her arms. She swayed her as she begged in broken words for her to stop crying.
The ring of Rumi's screams throbbed in his head in a dull thud the moment he entered the room. It was enough to understand the delirium of Amber's words. The switch from arm to arm, the expose of her breasts in attempts to understand a baby that didn't want to be understood. The feel of wetness in her diaper. Rumi only screeched louder and harder, kicked with greater frustration. And his soulmate only paced faster across the room, bounced harder, begged louder.
The glitter of tears through the darkness was a shot through his heart, liquid smears down Amber's beautiful cheeks. He moved, a firm arm to her shocked body. And she glanced up with urgent desperation, the eyes of a drowning man upon salvation. Hikaru took Rumiko into his arms without a word.
Outside, heavy rain lashed upon the windows, drumming out a constant beat. It was no humble storm and unforgivingly fat droplets slammed onto the glass, followed by the crack of thunder and the shards of lightning.
"Oh, Rumi, why are you making things so hard for your mommy?" He smiled, wiped the tears from his child's face, he held her to his chest, rocking her slowly. He walked, moving towards the window. "What's wrong little baby?"
Somehow, Rumi decided that she had enough screaming, choosing to stare up at him blearily with a funny look of utter confusion. He smiled and she seemed to blink dazedly into his eyes, miraculously quiet. He turned to look for his soulmate only to find her bent over on the floor, hair curtained upon her face, body quivering as she held herself the way a child would for comfort.
"Amber?" He knelt, but she got up hurriedly, a shaky hand swept across her face to mask the tears. It faded in soft glittery stains on her cheeks, the barest whispers of its presence. Did she cry when they weren't around? The thought pained Hikaru.
"S-sorry, you need your sleep." Weakness stirred in the crack of her voice, slow and sluggish like melting candy. "Did she wake you up?"
"I woke naturally," he assured. The blame on herself was harsh in her tone.
"Go back to sleep, I can deal with her—" she took Rumi from his arms, a scoop that had Rumi gurgling out her protests, "—I'm fine, I'll be okay. She's just fussy and doesn't want to sleep. That's all. I'll figure it out." Hikaru sat down, a soft sigh whispering out from his lips but he kept it tight for her burnt nerves.
"Come here." He patted his lap, leaned back upon the pillows to get comfortable.
"W-what? Karu—"
He sat her down carefully on his lap, pulling her into his arms, he held her carefully, feathering kisses down her neck. And with great care, he covered her arms with his own, stroking Rumi's face as he whispered softly to his lover.
"Mommy needs a hug too," he murmured soft and gentle as he kissed Amber's cheeks. His heart bled and filled as he whispered the words his soul told him she needed to hear. "Mommy's doing so good trying to take care of you. Why can't you be a good girl for her?"
There was a hitch in his soulmate's throat, a pained whimper that he rubbed away with a hand over her skin. She exhaled, the air wet in her throat and Hikaru heard the tears, didn't need to see them to know that they were there. She didn't speak. She didn't need to.
"I love you so much," Hikaru whispered, holding them close with his arms. "You're doing amazing, okay?"
There was a tremble from his soulmate, a quiver of her body that had his heart melting at the flickers of gold upon her skin. It took a moment for Amber to nudge Rumi into drinking her milk. Thankfully, she seemed to have grown tired from screaming, finally settling down into Amber's arms, sucking eagerly on swollen nipples.
Like the degenerate he was, Hikaru's lower belly stirred with want at the sight of her bare breasts, and with her body pressed tight against his own. He bit on his lips, desperate attempts to shake off the lust that wallowed in a deep safe that he stored in his mind. He shouldn't be thinking about sex when his soulmate was in pain and broken with exhaustion. Much less when her breasts were bare for their child.
"She likes you more than me," Amber said after a moment of silence, pulling him free from his head. The rain pattered on heavily, a dull growl of thunder. Hikaru licked his lips, deciding that he had to tread carefully with how wound up his soulmate seemed to be.
"Why would you think so?"
"She smiles at you and she stops crying when you're around." Her voice trickled when she said those words and sadness grew.
"At this age, her smiles are just reflexes..." he stroked her hair, "And she cries with me too." He chuckled, low snort as his mind drifted to memories of bad days. "I once went down the list we made three times once, and none of them seemed to be it."
"Did you figure it out?"
"She wasn't happy with the swaddle."
There was a sigh. "I don't understand her." There was a beat of silence as Hikaru waited for her to speak. "I don't think I ever will...And I—" Her breath caught in her throat. "Sometimes, I-I hate her—"
His mouth dried at her words, and he swallowed wondering what to say. But logic overruled his moment of confusion. Who could love a torturous machine that robbed one off sleep? Who could enjoy being in the presence of a baby that screamed too much?
"That's fine," he decided on those words, "it's okay to feel that way."
But they came out soft and startled, not the way he knew she needed and filled with too much of his own selfish, Rumiko-loving emotions. And Amber began to withdraw from his arms, her head turning to look at him. In her sweet brown eyes, he saw walls of steel.
"You should sleep," she mumbled. "You need it. I don't want you passing out on stage."
"I won't," he caught her wrist. "I can take it."
"You've been sleeping three hours a night for the past few days—"
"More than you have, I know you struggle to sleep at night."
"You do?" her eyes are wide and lined with evidence, purple and blue bruises on skin.
"These eyebags do not form on their own," he smiled, sad and soft. How quickly their lives had changed with a single anomaly in their system. But that was exactly how Amber had entered their lives. A ripple of tumultuous change could sometimes be the biggest blessing.
"I-I think too much and it hurts all over."
"You could take some of your painkillers from the hospital—"
"I know the hospital said that it's safe to use, but everyone said that there could be side effects—"
"Momo," Hikaru interrupted her with a gentle bump of his forehead against hers. "Being a mother isn't just about caring for Rumiko, you've got to take care of yourself too." She went quiet, leaning against him as their daughter suckled on her breasts. And then she let out a soft sigh.
"Yeah."
Her eyes locked with his and for a moment brief electricity fizzled as his heart thundered in his chest. His soul was weak to those big, warm eyes, and his heart was weaker when traces of tears dripped from the tips of her eyelashes.
Kissing her was easy, her lips were a flood of wet, loving heat. His head dreamt of more, and his heart soared as he drew closer. But the gurgle from Rumiko was a hammer to an impossible faraway dream. He parted from Amber's lips with a smile. But her brows furrowed, a familiar drift of a cheeky grin upon her face.
"What's this?"
Her hips shifted and guilty arousal jolted through him. His face grew hot with shame, and he stared as she shifted to hold Rumi in one hand, her other moving down to pat the arousal in his pants. Her hand shifted and a soft groan escaped his lips.
He had to run; how could he feel this way with Amber weak from the birth of their child?
"I'm sorry," he escaped, moving out of the way, "I'll take care of it and then come back, I promise."
He ran then, slow jogs out of the room without looking back. If had he would have caught the crestfallen expression on his soulmate's face. The tremble of her lower lip and then the down cast of eyes. Disappointment would drip from her face before guilt would surface like a tidal wave that consumed all.
Hikaru did not hear the sound of a slowly breaking heart.
Amber
Just for the calm quiet peace of nothingness, Amber wished and prayed that she could sleep forever. She wanted to fall under the covers of her bed and stay huddled within white sheets on a cold day where rain spilled neatly upon the recesses of chipped pebbled asphalt.
She longed for undisturbed rest, for worriless dreams and for solitude.
She wanted to be alone.
But time flowed through her like the roaring rapids upon a stone lodged within the river. It moulded her; wore her down; and polished her into numbed perfection. Eventually, she found herself wishing her soulmates good luck at the door with Rumiko in her arms on the day of their concert.
Time was not kind to her soul.
Her daughter did not scream bloody murder and shriek like a banshee that night; she was instead a picture of sweet perfection. Rumiko was blissfully quiet for her fathers; the gentle breeze before a storm as they waved goodbye.
And for once Amber felt as if she could do this; for once the great fear that was lodged in her throat vanished from her body as if it were never there in the first place. There was a brief sense of hope in her heart. The feeling of being able to do anything grew in her chest.
She could do this.
So much hope lurched and spread through her system that she almost forgot about it—the fear. The fear that drenched her skin and turned her clammy and wet with sweat when she roused from scream filled slumber. The fear that left her always needing water to quench the dryness in her throat. The fear that made her want to leave and run away from everything.
The fear that consumed her and turned her into a person she could not recognize.
Rumiko's compliance for their big day released some of the tension that knotted and weighed on Amber's shoulders. And for once Amber was not melting into the floor, nor was her body sweat stained with oily hair plastered to blood-less skin. She was clean, well-scrubbed and sweet smelling, and had laughed at least once that day to her soulmates' antics.
She didn't smile much anymore.
But she tried to smile for them; tried to ignore the bone deep exhaustion that clung to her from the lack of caffeine; tried to pretend she wasn't on the verge of blanking out and drowning in numbed exhaustion. She tried to swallow down the retch that stirred in her belly—nausea that came with the lack of sleep and the fear of being alone with her daughter.
She tried her best just as she always had, and just as she always would.
They'd kissed both her and Rumi on the cheek, played a little with their daughter before promising that they would be back as soon as they could. Handwritten numbers were laid out on the table, hotlines if she needed them. They promised that staff would come if she needed help, swore that they'd have someone check in on her too.
Like a child in a school.
Her body had recoiled at their words; her heart tightened and twisted. It felt strange to hear them speak as if she weren't capable enough to care of Rumiko for a day. It felt worse to be told that she couldn't do it when she was already trying so damn hard.
Their concern came from a place of love, but their words translated to a form of insult, a chink against her armour, a sword upon her door. It resulted in thorns that popped over her skin, prickling all that came close.
Our manager will come check on you. He'll bring someone with experience.
Translation: We know you can't care for Rumiko for more than ten hours, so we'll get someone who can.
I don't need someone to check in on me, she'd burst out, shaking her head. I'm her mother, we'll be fine. You belittle me. She'd scoffed, hot laugh that trembled out of her throat. There are mothers out there with no one to check on them. I'm not that weak—She'd caught herself before her words grew too poisonous, darted her tongue out to wet drying lips. Don't worry about me. I've got this.
They'd looked at each other, quick glances that spelled out the words they didn't have to say. God, she knew them well enough to understand that they thought her incapable of caring for her daughter like the mothers of the rest of the world. Unlucky mothers with only one husband and no one else but themselves.
Amber was lucky.
She'd spent the afternoon pacing as she always did, the usual shaking of her body as she circled the room with her daughter in her arms. She was bouncing and bouncing as her baby squirmed and wept on the towel tossed over her shoulder. Rumiko was crying on her body, but Amber's mind was elsewhere.
Always, always on her soulmates.
Would they fuck up their steps? Forget lyrics? Would they pass out from exhaustion? Faint on stage because their bodies weren't at its peak? Would they come home, proud of themselves or crying and tremendously disappointed? Would they worry for Rumiko? Did they trust Amber enough to take care of her?
The selfies they'd sent in the waiting rooms were quick shots of relief, the live streams from fans in the audience were gemstones in the darkness. Their faces had been chalked full with foundation; concealer heaped on so thick that none of the exhaustion shone through. They'd been exquisite, beautiful and otherworldly as they performed just as they always had, and just as if nothing had changed.
So much happier.
She longed to be in that crowd; longed to be backstage celebrating their achievements; longed to have them hold her like how they once did without a child assigned to her breasts. She smiled when Hikaru aced his high notes, chuckled when MinJae managed a difficult flip, smiled when they doused each other with bottles of water and played catch on stage.
They appeared young, wild and free.
Rumiko's screaming grew in pitch as she struggled in her arms; her back arched and Amber's phone slipped from her fingers and tumbled to the ground. It laid at her feet as her baby struggled and wailed with discomfort. Her yells didn't stop, the scream went on and on like a siren that could not end.
Fuck.
Bitterness poisoned her throat along with a great sense of frustration. Her feet tapped on the floor as she jostled her child into thousands of positions that critics online claimed to be the best for colic, sobbing babies. She had her hands on Rumi's body, crossed her little arms over her chest. She had Rumi on her shoulder. Rumi on her belly. Rumi in her arms.
But her daughter cried so hard it seemed as if Amber were torturing her with a hot burning poker that melted skin; as if she had slammed her repeatedly onto the ground; and as if she had slapped and pinched her already reddening skin. Rumi cried as if Amber were hurting her.
It was impossible to calm the baby at this point and the sadness that followed was a truck against her weak, meaty flesh. It slammed into Amber; sorrow that was hard and foreign. Her breath escaped her in short pants through her nose; heart pounded, irregular and strange in her chest.
There were moments when she couldn't speak, moments when her sides ached and oxygen did not enter her lungs. Moments when her heart squeezed so hard it hurt her. It felt as if someone had wrapped large fingers around her smaller frame and squeezed so hard that her organs were constricted and her bones popped beneath a monster's fingers. It felt as if someone had ripped out her lungs and now, she was left gasping and floundering like a fish out of sea.
Still, she continued.
She'd closed her eyes, breathed and pushed through like she always had with determined zombie-like power. She tended to Rumiko's needs and prayed that her attempts would strike gold. For a few times that night, she'd prayed for strength.
Somehow, she made it through Rumiko's impossible screeching and her soulmates arrived with bright smiles and loud chatter. They entered their temporary home when their daughter had finally worn herself out from all that terrible screaming and was suckling pleasantly on her calloused, swollen nipples.
They arrived when the storm had passed and a light rain followed in a fussy baby that needed to be burped and swaddled. They arrived when everything seemed okay. They arrived when things weren't breaking at the seams, when things weren't falling apart, when the darkness didn't conceal her baby in a monstruous, demonic light.
She left the baby in their arms; her soulmates were more than eager to cuddle and grace Rumiko with much more affection than they did to Amber. They pressed their cheeks against hers, kissed her little toes and fought for a chance to hold her first. When Amber sat down and watched them banter from the kitchen, there was coldness in her heart.
Months ago, they'd reacted the same way with her.
It was a strange shard of jealousy that had her looking away with another bite of unforgiving guilt. She was always guilty now. Always, always guilty of everything she felt. Feelings that were unusual and not the same as the rest of the world.
There was a distance between them all, a wall that they'd placed willingly. She realised that as they spoke to her in words, still flowering with love but all clean and sweet. Their speech was controlled and no longer freed with a baby in their midst.
Rumiko was a fucking cock block in their relationship.
She knew where the issue stemmed from. They didn't want Rumiko learning anything bad, but the problem was that crude cursing was a great part of their personality. And lewd exchanges were their ways of showing love to her. With Rumiko stuck to Amber as if she were a damn cow at a fucking farm, it too meant that she was warded off from their private worlds.
It meant that they'd become strangers.
She'd scowled at the thought, dreadfully hot feelings bubbling in her too cold chest. A dichotomy of emotions, a mixture of feelings. She stamped it all down, swallowed them like a sour pill.
Her mind drifted in and out as they spoke of exhilaration and stardom, of beautiful light waves and gorgeous dreams. With all the energy she could muster from what remained in the bits and pieces of her soul, Amber had smiled and clapped to their happiness, just as supportive as always.
And just as okay.
How much jealousy did she have to hide? She didn't know. But the bitterness coiled in her throat and flooded her tongue, sour and ripe. She wanted the escape that they had, yearned for the ability to leave her house and away from life.
She wanted to be free.
But she couldn't be.
Through her exhaustion, she told herself: things will get better. Rumiko will grow out of it, and soon the concert would end. Lies. Lies. Lies. Things did not get better with time; it only grew worst as her soulmates were thrust into the realm of a seemingly never-ending tour.
The venue only grew further from the house they'd rented for her, and thus the hours her soulmates spent away from her only grew over time. Weeks later she found herself without them for days; alone, with strangers roaming her space.
It was house in name, but a jail in truth.
She couldn't follow them because she was stuck with the baby. She couldn't eat what she wanted to because she was her baby's milk supply. She couldn't even take a walk outside for a breath of fresh air because according to old wives' tales her and her baby would die the moment they stepped out of the building for anything that wasn't emergency.
She couldn't leave. She couldn't eat. And she couldn't fucking sleep.
And she was in a world of fucking pain from everything.
Her soulmates insisted that she had help at night at the very least, which she received much more graciously now that she'd been given a taste of caring for a colic baby on her own. At night, she spent glorious hours as far away from the baby as she could, huddled in her bed unable to move, and unable to breathe.
Despite the noise cancelling headphones and the sound of the rain in her ears all she heard was the ringing screams of her child down the hall nestled in the arms of a stranger. The phantom sound never stopped, the anxiety continued, and the dread that arrived whenever the nannies left was so thick and so full that it left her stranded in a puddle of her own tears.
She was almost psychotic. There were moments of twitchy outbursts where she would bounce her child twice as hard and two times as fast. She would stare at the clock as she paced in circles, a familiar rhythm that she too used to.
Then she would mentally count down the seconds until the nanny came and she could be freed from her child. Once freed, she would crawl into her bed and scream into her pillowcase, then curl into a ball and cry for too long.
How disgusting.
How dreadful.
What a shitty mother Rumiko had.
Still, she hated it. She termed it the exchange, and she didn't know which part she hated more: the act of giving her child to a stranger or the act of receiving her child from said stranger.
Sometimes she prayed that the nannies would steal Rumiko from her. But of course, no one would with a baby like hers, it had taken more money just to keep them in the job. No one could truly enjoy Rumiko's presence. That much was true, which made her feel a little bit better about herself because it meant that Amber wasn't crazy for hating her baby.
But there were some days Amber wept when they took Rumiko from her, it felt worse when the baby stopped crying the moment she left Amber's arms. And good fucking God Amber felt as if she were the damn problem. Everyone loved Rumiko except Amber and Rumiko seemed to know that.
Maybe, there was something wrong with Amber.
Those thoughts would flicker through her head and then she would slam them out with a hard and heavy fist. No. There was nothing wrong with her. But there was something wrong with Rumiko. So she took her baby out one day to the children's hospital in a taxi that she'd called.
The sun had been blinding, too hot and too harsh for her eyes. It'd beaten down, horribly bright and disgustingly warm. Her child continued to scream bloody murder in the car, so loud that even the driver gave her death glares when they'd stopped at traffic. She accepted them with a hunched back and a bitten down sob, the soft shushing that left her lips were as pointless as the pacifier she tried to use on Rumiko.
In the lobby her child continued to scream, on and on she went, her voice rising and falling like a baby straight out of a horror film. She seemed determined to use her lungs in a space so filled with people. And in return, said people parted from Amber as if she were emitting the worst smell in their entire lives. Their nose had scrunched in utter detest and loath for her baby.
They looked at her as if it were her damned fault that the baby was crying, shot stares upon her body as if to say that she had to shut her baby up or die. Then the pity would swallow those glares as they noted her appearance; ruined and bedraggled as if she hadn't bathed in weeks. Then the youthful embarrassment that shone red and shiny on her cheeks, her horror so stark all could tell that she longed for an earthquake to swallow her up.
She exaggerated her condition. But Amber truly didn't remember when she'd last had a decent shower that wasn't on the verge of racing out of the room to let her personal little demon drink from her body. Being presentable wasn't part of the plan when she had to abandon everything for her baby in desperate panic.
Nor did she remember if she'd even worn proper clothes out to the hospital because she was just so damn tired. Were the clothes four days old and stained with baby shit? She didn't know. She didn't care. Did she even have a bra on? Who knows? Who cares? Who gives a flying fuck?
She almost bit the hand off an elderly woman who offered to calm Rumiko in a snappish 'you-fucking-suck' voice, afraid for her baby's safety and her own sanity. She got mad at the nurse when they told her she had to wait a mere ten minutes. The snarled out 'fucking please help me' wasn't well received and the collective gasp from people that snooped behind her was a stab through her fleshy chest.
In response, she'd cowered into herself muttering out apologies as she tried to get her baby to shut up. They allowed her to skip the queue only because Rumiko was disturbing everyone in the hospital, and Amber was a nuisance that needed to go.
Then the doctor arrived. He was smug and proud, neck deep in his experience and so-called abilities. For a moment, Amber had hoped to God that he could be her saviour with magic skills that he could teach her to calm Rumiko into the sweet, innocent little baby that everyone else seemed to have.
The proper baby, the none demonic baby. The baby that actually slept.
Rumiko was falsely quiet when he tried new techniques and massages on her body. And when she started to shriek the panic began to reveal itself on his balding head; an oily sheen of sweat that had him furrowing his brows in deeper alarm.
The answer was medicine; drugs to fucking force her baby to sleep. She lied; it was just medicine to tackle stomach problems they assumed her child was experiencing. Amber was just mad at everything, and she was ready to do anything to get her baby to shut up.
She was angry. She was always, always angry. Angry, sad and numb. And angry.
Your baby seems to be in pain, the doctor had explained, coaxing Rumiko into a position that he claimed mimicked the womb. She looks like she has some problems with perhaps reflux, maybe torticollis.
According to him, the arched back and the struggling reaction were supposed to be signs of discomfort in her oesophagus. Rumiko's head was supposedly all knotted up from her inability to move resulting in a particularly bad kink in her neck.
She's supposed to settle down if I hold her this way.
He'd interrogated her with more questions on her baby. Amber had recited the list in her head, checked them all off with the doctor. A full belly of milk, or at least as much as she could give her. Formula was given in case it wasn't enough to feed her. Her diaper was dry, she wasn't cold or hot. She wasn't thirsty. She didn't seem gassy.
She should be asleep. The doctor had said with an almost grimace. How many hours does she spend crying like this?
Sometimes more than seven, Amber'd answered with a defeated sigh.
She'd counted because counting kept her sane. Because counting reminded her that there would be time for sleep eventually, because counting momentarily got rid of the flashes of white behind her eyes and the torture that dissolved her brain and shredded her bones.
Oddly, she found solace in the despair that tinged in the doctor's voice. Rumiko was a problem to solve, which meant that Amber wasn't a bad mom. Rumiko was just a really hard baby. Or at least, that was what Amber repeated to herself. It was her attempts to convince herself that she wasn't a failure of a parent.
Amber was an okay mom.
It's fine to put her down in the crib and leave her alone, you know? He'd told her with a piteous smile that told her that her situation was heart-breaking and unfortunate. It won't hurt her to cry for a while until you can collect your thoughts. It's better for you to reduce your frustration and come back when you're feeling better. We don't want to accidentally hurt the baby.
His words stung her and she felt tears blossom in her eyes.
Those feelings are okay. It is perfectly normal to feel frustrated. He'd smiled, patting her back. I felt the exact same way with my second child. You've got to take care of yourself too. Babies like this are tough. Do you have people at home that can help you out?
I've got a nanny that cares for her at night, she'd explained through a rush of tears that stung her nose, and when my soulmates are back home from work they look after her.
You need that Mama. You need that. He sighed, patting her daughter as she wailed and fussed. She'll grow out of it soon, I promise you. She will, but for now it'll be hard. I'll give you formula that's easier on her stomach. We'll see if that's the problem, okay? Then we'll work through it.
Okay.
What about you? He'd smiled. Do you need anything?
What?
Anti-depressants could help in this situation.
She'd gaped at his words, too stunned to speak, when she did it was choked out and forced. I don't feel depressed. I-I still enjoy eating and I can appreciate things. I'm not empty inside. I—
Alright, if that's what you feel. But I can refer you to a good postnatal depression therapist if you need it. A child like this...He'd shook his head. I had a difficult child too; it was dark times. We all need a little help, someone to talk to when things get too rough. A little medicine helps the soul.
She'd left the hospital with her wallet missing a few hundred dollars and feeling a tad disturbed by his comments. She didn't feel depressed, she didn't act like a depressed person. Or was she? She was just stressed up with a baby that kept crying, everyone would feel like shit with a baby that seemed to hate living.
Who wouldn't be miserable?
And she was miserable.
Just miserable.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Just miserable.
The doctor's words stung her and that night her baby still couldn't stop crying, weeping for hours and hours despite everything she'd done. The acid reflux blockers, the new formula, gas drops, the gripe water, the probiotics and the medicine. The earplugs that remained perpetually in her ears just so she could withstand the level of noise her baby was making.
What used to work didn't work, and she was left pacing to rising screams. She felt like a balloon, a ball of deep rage, a monster lurking beneath the Earth. She felt like the sun that roared and begged to burn all that drew close, like the phantom giants that crushed her fragile soul into smithereens. The constant knot in her chest tightened further, harder and more. It swelled.
It hurt to be a failure.
Tears dripped down her cheeks as her baby cried and cried. It hurt Amber to see Rumiko in pain. It hurt more to feel as if she were the one causing the pain. And there was nothing she could do but witness such pain and suffering, to bear the brunt of a child that would not stop crying. It was a no brainer for Amber to put the baby down in her crib and leave her alone for a while.
She had to.
She had to for violence raged in her limbs and energy tore through her muscles. An anger that consumed her and threatened her so hard that she'd hastily left Rumiko in her bed. Her fingers were releasing Rumiko as fast as she could. The baby was in her arms and then she was not.
She had to before she did something stupid.
Amber'd walked to the furthest part of the house and sat down, hands covering her ears. She'd listened to the loudest music she'd ever played through headphones in her entire life. The soft ballads from her soulmates' albums were blasted into her ears. She'd held herself, curled and warm on a soft bed and a weighted comforter. For a moment she had sighed and smiled to music that made her feel eons better.
She was at peace.
She was okay.
She stood when she was ready, moving towards the door. Her eyes widened when the darkness was replaced by light. And like angels on her judgement day, instead of the nanny her soulmates stood before her eyes shushing the quietly sobbing baby in their arms.
Their horror was electric.
Rumiko, like the asshole she was, went quiet in their arms almost like magic. She made soft pitiful sounds, little gurgles that pushed the illusion that they seemed to have concocted in their heads. Their eyes were daggers when they'd looked at her; each dripping with their own stress from work.
Their first meeting after days: an absolute disaster.
Her lips worked faster than her mind. "I-It was just temporary- I wasn't going to leave her alone for too long—"
"What are you doing?" Sieon had snarled, eyes flashing with so much hatred she'd been stung. "You can't just leave her in her crib all day! Have you been doing this all the time? All this damn time?"
"T-the doctor said it was fine, I was stressed out—"
"If you can't do it then just admit it, please Amber. Please," JieMi had exhaled through pinched breath. "You can't do this to her. Please." He held Rumiko, eyes wide and shaking as he stared at Amber with a gaze that told her exactly how he felt about the situation.
Disgust. Anger. Fear. Confusion. Betrayal.
Why? Why? Why?
She flinched knowing full and well that the edge in their voices meant that something had fucked up at the concert. That the stress was surely borne from the jetlag and the flight they'd taken just to rush home. They were wound up tight just as she was, and they weren't in their right mind.
They needed more fucking sleep for better decision making.
"She was fine. I promise. She is fine," she'd said, biting her lips, begging that her fatigue stayed quiet and solemn. She didn't need it demanding for more, she didn't need it fuelling her already rising frustration and panic. She didn't need it clouding her judgement. "I took her to the doctor today—"
"She's sick? How did she get sick?" Oliver's eyes widened and his face, always so damn loud and expressive had curled into distrust, confusion then a squinted stare in her direction. The blame was cast, a net thrown at her direction.
He suspected her.
"N-No she's not germy sick. But the doctor said she might have a stomach problem, like stomach acids—"
"Did you burp her properly? Good God. Amber, I know," Hikaru groaned, his eyes roaming from her child to her. She knew he wasn't thinking straight, her words were poisoned in his mind from their conversation. He was biased, his thoughts were coloured with judgement. He didn't understand. "I know it's hard. We know you don't like her. We know she ruined your dreams but please Amber, this is our baby—"
"I wasn't hurting her on purpose—" her breath caught and tears began to fall following the perpetual tear tracks that never left her skin. "What the fuck?" She laughed. "What the actual fuck?"
"Language—" Casper started.
"I know I'm a fucked-up mom," she snapped, "I know I'm the worst mom in the world. I know that, okay? But you know how Rumiko is like. She's colic, she doesn't want to be happy, she fucking hates living. She's a miserable baby and I'm barely surviving with her—"
"Don't blame the baby-This—" MinJae glanced at her, worry thick in the curve of plump lips. But instead of a fight, his face revealed his acceptance. He didn't give her any chance to explain, only a gentle understanding that she didn't want or need. It disgusted her. "I think you need help—"
"What?" She'd gaped at him.
"It could be baby blues, you're not okay. I've been seeing the way you react." He exhaled through closed eyes, then opened them wide, arms outstretched towards her for a hug. "Come here darling." But at that moment she only saw a collar to her neck, the walls of a cell, the clamp of a crocodile's jaw upon prey. His words were infantilised her problems. "We'll see a doctor tomorrow, okay?"
Fuck did it hurt to hear him talk about her as if he knew her better than she knew herself, as if she didn't understand the emotions that swirled in her chest. She was trying couldn't they see that? She was trying!
"I'm not that fucking depressed that I'll hurt my own damn kid," her voice was soft, dangerous. Cold. It was a blizzard in the household, even Rumiko seemed to be able to read the room, growing soft, her wails were bubbled hiccups.
"We know you won't hurt Rumiko," Casper answered back carefully. They shifted, there was an exchange of gazes; a foreign language she didn't understand. Or did she? "Of course, we know you won't." He didn't need to finish his sentence for her to read the rest of his unsaid words. But you would in this state. You would if you knew what you're doing.
But she knew what she was doing.
She was okay. She was actually okay. She felt better after that break.
Or was she okay?
Their words stung her because the truth was Amber didn't know which side of the tightrope she stood on. Was she already falling into the depths of depression or was she still struggling to breathe? And with their accusatory gaze she was afraid and ashamed. She felt like a loser, like a failure, like a shitty mother.
She felt everything and yet nothing.
And thus all she wanted to do was deny as hard as she could.
SHE WAS OKAY.
"You're not happy, you don't look fine. Things will get better with professional help—" MinJae repeated like a mantra as they closed in on her moving towards her. "Medicine, therapy?"
But through her eyes, she saw JieMi pulling Rumiko tighter to his chest. She saw Sieon covering them with his body. She saw her soulmates closing in on her with her daughter protected behind their backs.
She saw zookeepers trying to protect a tiger cub from its own mother. She saw people that wanted to sedate her emotions on pills that could potentially flatline everything she could feel. And she felt humiliated as fuck.
"Would you fucking quit it?" She'd groaned, hands to her temples. The flashing lights from sheer exhaustion was sharp and throbbing at the back of her head. "I'm fucking exhausted, okay? We all are. All of you are exhausted too."
"But that doesn't mean you can neglect our child. Amber..." JieMi began to say with all the wrong words and the wrong tone of voice.
"Fuck you." She'd snapped. "Go fucking google this shit. I'm not fucking neglecting our angry baby." Her exhaled breath then the bark of tearful laughter was sharp in the air. "Try taking care of her alone, for hours and hours. Couldn't you just stop thinking for her for just one second, just one little second and try thinking for me too?"
They were silent after her outburst, noticeably disturbed by her behaviour. It scared her, how little time it had taken for her soulmates to feel like strangers. It scared her to see them so different from what she knew. And she closed her eyes not wanting to see more.
She didn't need to.
"I'm going for a walk."
"Wait Amber—" Casper began to say as she pushed past them towards the door. He rushed to her, scarf in one hand. "Wait, take your coat it's cold at night—"
"I'll—" she glanced back at them briefly, her voice was sad and lonely. Small. "I'll be back...Don't worry." She smiled.
Then she turned and left, not looking back.
A/N: Read 10+ chapters ahead on Patreon patreon.com/tinyeyecat
For this chapter, I did as much research as I can on postpartum depression (10 articles, 2 shows, 4 books...) It's not enough of course, but I thought I'll try to capture the voices of these poor women.
It's something that happens a lot. And something that I feel everyone should know when it comes to pregnancy since it is a part of life. It should be common knowledge, and I'm so surprised that it's not.
Not everyone realises the horrors of motherhood, and I just think more should know.
It takes a village to raise a child, and in today's age, most of the time it's just the mother caring for the baby by herself without support and help. It's horrible, it's stressful. It can be hell. And it is hell for some out there.
Too many judge, ridicule and insult these mothers who are struggling so hard. Please be kind and support these new mothers who are just trying their best to work things out. <3