The thought was like swallowing glass ; all I could do was sit in my office and do absolutely fucking nothing to console and be there for my wife. All I could do was wallow in self-pity, resentment, rage, and regret.
There was a slight knock on my door, and I looked to see her grandma walking in. I stood up respectfully and walked over to her.
Nonna. She had insisted I call her this because we were family in her eyes. I held her hand as I helped her get to the couch. How is she ? How’s my wife ?
Okay. Her voice was a little shaky, and her accent a little thick, but I understood her. She’s very stubborn. I told her she needed to talk to you. She feels…ashamed.
No, no, no, she shouldn’t feel like that. I wanted to rip my hair out in anger. She should never feel ashamed. She won’t let me help her.
She squeezed my hand. She doesn’t need space. You need to…. She paused to translate the words in her head. Force her to speak to you. She said with an encouraging nod. If you leave her, she will get worse.
I don’t want her to hate me, I whispered, voicing my fear.
She won’t. She promised. Andare. She spoke Italian. She tilted her head to the door. Go.
She didn’t have to tell me twice ; I ran out of my office. My hands were sweating as I walked to our room. Fuck. I felt scared. I shouldn’t have been scared of speaking to my wife, but I was. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I closed my eyes as I tried to calm my breathing.
I stood in front of her door like a coward as I contemplated taking her grandmother’s advice and forcing a confession out of her. It felt wrong, but I didn’t want her to think that by giving her space, I didn’t care. I did care. I do care.
I fucking love her. God, I love her so much that it was painful not to have told her yet. So, I didn’t knock. I just walked in, and she sat on our bed, where we shared many beautiful moments and memories. I wish we could go back to those days.
My heart jumpstarted at the sight of her. Her breathing hitched, and she tightened her hands around her knees. Some of her bruises and cuts had healed, while others were still healing. Blue, yellow, purple, and some were mixed, and this was just what I could see.
Her arms and face were the only things visible to me, and I knew if I were to see the rest of her, I’d lose whatever fucking sanity I had left and go back only to burn the Morelli house to the fucking ground.
Mo ghra amhain.
Her chin trembled, and she covered her face with her hands as she cried. I closed the door and cautiously went over to her on the bed. I barely reached out for her, scared she’d jump from my touch when she launched herself at me.
I almost sobbed with her as she clung to me, arms and legs wrapping around me tightly. I rubbed her back and wound my arms around her, petrified of letting for a single second and her vanishing. She felt much smaller in my arms, and I could hear her entire being rattle as her breathing heaved while she cried.
I got you, baby. You’re safe. Fuck. Elena, you’re with me, baby. Safe in my arms.
Don’t let go. She whined.
Never, I promised.
I kept her in my arms as I carried her up and leaned my back against the headboard. She stayed in my arms for hours, and neither of us spoke. Her crying would falter now and then, and when I’d look down, she’d be fast asleep in my arms. She’d wake up with a slight jolt, tense up in my arms, and then relax when she saw I was still holding her. It hurt seeing her struggle.
It killed me knowing she was having nightmares right in my arms. All I could do was this. It wasn’t enough. I knew this, but for now, it would have to do. Darkness illuminated the room from the windows ; I knew it was nighttime. She shifted slightly in my arms, and I moved her hair out of the way to look at her face. I wiped her tears away and dipped down to kiss her forehead.
I’m scared. She whispered, her voice hoarse, low that I barely heard her.
Of what ? Tell me. I urged.
She swallowed, and a lone tear fell down the side of her cheek. Of what you’ll think of me when I tell you what happened.
I shook my head. Sshh. Don’t be scared of that. Be scared of what I’ll do to your brother when I find out what he did to you.
Her eyes went wide, and she sniffled. You…you didn’t kill him ?
No, not without your permission.
I wouldn’t kill the motherfucker without her permission, despite the urge to butcher him on sight. I had so much love and respect for my wife that I’d wait for her to give me the okay. There was a piece of me that craved for her to be the one to pull the trigger, but with how broken she looked right now, it felt like such a faraway thought.
Nimble fingers caressed my cheeks, and she tried to smile, but a frown took over her face. My husband. I placed my hand over hers, reassuring her.
Yes. Your husband, baby. Yours.
I…I was… I tightened my hold on her hand, silently encouraging her. I was pregnant.
The entire world around me fucking shattered. She was pregnant. Past tense. As in, the baby wasn’t alive anymore. As in, she was pregnant when Enzo took her. My heart jackhammered in my chest, and something lodged in my throat as I saw her cry while clutching her stomach. I told myself I’d be strong for her, that I’d listen to what happened, and that I’d be able to carry every weight and burden she went through so she never had to.
Yet this. Fuck. This was more than I could have ever imagined or conjured up. She was pregnant. Was. Was. The word repeatedly played in my head like a broken record.
Was ? It came out choked.
Her hands fell to her stomach, and she wept. He had them…kick me. I tried to protect him, I swear. I kept my hands on my stomach, but I couldn’t save him. I’m so sorry. She shouted through her cries.
I couldn’t even hold it back or be strong for her. In this moment, I wasn’t The Oisin Callahan that everyone feared or the great Irish Mob leader that killed someone in a blink of an eye. In this moment, I was just Oisin, a father who lost a child he never got to meet, know, or love through the most terrible circumstances.
I was a husband who’s wife was kidnapped for four days while she endured fucking hell. In this moment, I wasn’t strong or significant, nor did all the weapons and skillsets I accumulated do anything to keep my emotions at bay.
Tears brimmed in my eyes, and I cried with her. My eyes screwed tightly from the anguish I felt pooling in my heart, and my head fell back as my shoulders wrecked with tortured sobs. My hands shook as I covered my face while we grieved over the death of our first baby together.
I blamed myself again for forcing her to get pregnant, for giving Enzo ammunition to hurt her. I don’t know how long we sat on the bed, crying together. My heart felt so empty, my body felt numb, and I couldn’t even imagine what Elena was feeling.
I couldn’t imagine the pain she went through trying to protect herself and our baby and feeling like she failed us somehow. She didn’t. It wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t have done anything to change the outcome of the situation.
Elena. I finally reached for her. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Sshh. I cut her off when she tried to fight me. It’s okay. I’m sorry you’ve been in pain and grieving alone. I’m so sorry I let you get taken away. I’m sorry you had to endure all of this alone. I’m here. Give me your pain and heartbreak. Give it all to me.
My voice was laced with desperation, with agony, and you could hear the undertones of grief and suffering because even though she was alive and with me…we had lost our first child together.
The thought of her losing our child felt like someone had reached inside my chest and was ripping it right out. The pain was intolerable, and I couldn’t believe she had gone through it alone. My poor wife. My poor Elena. She’d never go through anything alone, ever again.
I was scared that I’d never see you again. She cried. I thought what we said during our fight would be the last things we said to each other.
I know.
I thought…I thought I’d die there. She spoke, then shook her head rapidly as if trying to eviscerate the thought from her mind.
I clasped her chin, forcing her to be still, and wiped at her tears. No, no, baby, please. Don’t. I reached for her hands next and clutched them to my chest. You’re alive. You’re in pain, and it hurts. I know it hurts, but you’re alive. You’re here with me. With me.
I love you. I love you so much. I was scared I’d never get to say it to you.
Elena. Her name came out of me like a soft prayer. I cupped her neck and pressed her forehead to me. I regret every moment I should have said those words to you but didn’t. I’m a fucking idiot for holding them back for so long. I love you. So fucking in love with you. Mo ghra amhain. My only love. My strong wife. Ta gra agam duit. I love you.
We held each other in a death-like grip as we attempted to heal whatever calamities and torment we had. It wasn’t enough. I didn’t know how long it would take to get over this heartache and sorrow, but nothing else mattered as long as we had each other.
We’d get over it together. It was Elena and me together. The two of us were destined to be together, to go through highs and lows together, but as long as we had each other, we wouldn’t want or need anything else.