[REBECCA]
I recalled with clarity the intense emotions that had swept across Artemy’s features when I had elucidated the name’s meaning-a kiss that spoke volumes and a night of intimate connection that lingered as a cherished memory.
“It’s an homage to all three mothers,” Artemy chimed in, his voice resonating with warmth and depth.
“Cevia, after my mother Celia and Artemy’s mother Olivia, fused into a harmonious whole. And Winona… Winona, well, it’s a tribute to our second mother, Nona.” I continued, my gaze tenderly locking onto Nona’s tear-glistening eyes.
“It’s not just about lineage, but about the love we’ve shared,” I added, my voice carrying the weight of emotions. “Cevia Winona Loskutov,” I repeated, savoring the resonance of the name as it linked past, present, and future.
Damian’s expression softened into a tender smile as he embraced her gently. With care, he cradled her, one hand supporting her neck while her dainty feet found their place against his chest. “What a truly exquisite name, infused with strength, a tribute to three remarkable women-a name befitting a genuine warrior princess,” he murmured.
Howard chimed in, his voice tinged with an unusual emotion, as if holding back tears. “It’s a beautiful choice indeed.”
Nona’s warm voice joined the conversation, her words carrying a sense of pride and admiration. “Your mothers would undoubtedly be brimming with pride for both of you. The strength you’ve shown after everything is truly inspiring.”
Silence enveloped the room, leaving me grappling with my emotions, unable to find words to convey them. Artemy appeared to be wrestling with the same overwhelming feelings.
Breaking the quiet moment, Lynda’s voice cut through. “Alright, time for presents!”
A smile tugged at my lips; it was finally gift-giving time.
One by one, presents were offered, each carrying a touch of happiness that resonated deeply within me. The sense of family was palpable. Soon, it was the boys’ turn.
“Her gift awaits upstairs,” Avim announced with a gleam in his eye. “In the piano room.”
The idea of the gift stirred excitement within me, and I stood up from the couch.
But, as I looked around, Artemy had vanished. My gaze swept the room, searching for him.
“He’s upstairs, waiting for you,” Lynda reassured with a gentle push. With the curiosity and anticipation building up, I found myself heading toward the piano room, a trail of curious faces following behind.
Stepping into the room, I met Artemy’s gaze. His eyes held a wink and a smile, his arms open in a welcoming gesture. Without hesitation, I walked into his embrace, finding a sense of pure contentment in his arms.
Nestling into his hug, a blissful sigh escaped me. His voice tickled my ear as he spoke softly, “Ready for their gift?” I nodded against his chest before easing back slightly.
Stepping back, Artemy distanced himself, and that’s when my attention was drawn to a new addition beside the piano, veiled by a delicate blanket.
“What’s this?” I questioned, my steps already leading me toward the mystery.
“It’s for Princess. A gift from us,” Brayden replied, his voice carrying a weight of earnestness.
With a gentle pull, I unveiled the surprise, a gasp escaping me as I beheld its beauty.
How utterly enchanting.
I struggled to find words, my hand brushing over the smooth silk material. A small, elegant bassinet lay before me, its charm undeniable.
To my delight, I noticed it was a rocking bassinet, its bedding a soft shade of pale pink. Delicate lace curtains framed it, cascading gracefully on either side.
Though the frame was made of wood, the curtains and silk sheet enveloped it in a cocoon of luxury. My fingers traced the wooden edges, a smile brightening my face. Now, Cevia had a serene spot to rest while I played the piano.
It was perfection personified.
Positioning myself in front of it, my grin widened. At the top, where the curtains met and converged, a small wooden piece stood, adorned with elegant cursive letters spelling out “PRINCESS.”
Artemy’s presence at my back anchored me, his warmth a reassuring embrace.
“It’s an embodiment of beauty and thoughtfulness. I’ll keep the bassinet here, so Cevia can listen to me play while she slumbers,” I murmured softly.
“That’s the idea,” Leon chimed in, a hint of playfulness in his voice.
Artemy’s voice brushed my ear, his words carrying a whisper of revelation. “They spent two months crafting this,” he confessed against my temple.
Astonishment painted my expression. “You all built this?” I asked, disbelief evident.
Turning to face them, I found all three looking bashful yet proud.
“It took effort and perseverance, but we got it just right. Cevia deserves a gift fashioned from our own hands,” Avim explained, their dedication shimmering in his eyes.
The unshed tears that welled up were a testament to my overflowing happiness. My eyes glistened, and a joyful smile painted my lips. Artemy had promised me tears of happiness; he had kept his word.
Nona entrusted me with Princess, a delicate bundle in my arms. I pressed a tender kiss onto her tiny forehead, mirroring Artemy’s affectionate gesture. His kiss too was gentle, a reflection of the tenderness that enveloped us.
Princess responded with her lips forming an endearing pout, evoking a smile from me that brimmed with pure contentment. In that moment, a profound sense of fulfillment washed over me, a sensation of completeness that had long eluded me.
With utmost care, I settled Princess into her bassinet, the sanctuary of her slumber. Artemy encircled me with his arm, drawing me close, his head nestled against my neck in an intimate embrace.
This was the yearned-for chapter of my life. It had been a dream etched in my heart since childhood, a vision that remained steadfast even through the darkest of days.
While my days might have been threaded with nightmares, the tapestry of my desires was woven with threads of hope for this very reality. And now, as I stood there, it was real. Love, happiness, and tranquility converged in my existence.
I embraced the abundance of these emotions, a rich tapestry woven into my world. And within this cocoon of affection, my daughter was cocooned too, cradled in the warmth of our love.
A surge of gratitude coursed through me, directed towards that serendipitous day when Artemy’s car found its spot. It was a moment seemingly insignificant, yet destined to set our lives on this course.
From the very genesis, our story had been written in the stars. It was a narrative that unfolded against all odds, an intricate design guided by fate.
We, as we stood there, were not just a pair of individuals. We were the embodiment of destiny realized.
[ARTEMY]
Five weeks later, the passage of time had woven a serene tapestry around us. The tranquility of the early morning was broken by an unexpected but gentle cry. I stirred from my slumber, a blend of drowsiness and alertness enveloping me. Instinctively, I drew Rebecca closer, her presence a reassuring anchor. My face found solace in the curve of her neck, my arm embracing her waist with a protective embrace. A muffled sigh escaped her lips as she shifted in response.
Yet the cries persisted, a persistent symphony of sound in the otherwise hushed room. Slowly, I opened my eyes, met by the embrace of darkness. Save for the faint glow of a small lamp behind me, the room remained cocooned in obscurity. The source of the cries, our beloved Princess, continued her plaintive serenade. Her agitation was palpable, her distress evident. Clearly, hunger wasn’t the cause; Rebecca had tended to her just a few hours prior.
Rebecca sighed, her form pressed against mine in its vulnerability. Her voice, laden with the remnants of sleep, brushed against my ears, “It’s my turn. I’ll go to her.”
As she began to rise, I gently restrained her, urging her to remain in the embrace of slumber. “Go back to sleep. I’ll handle her.”
Rebecca regarded me through heavy-lidded eyes, a faint smile gracing her lips. Her beauty, even in these moments of drowsiness, remained as breathtaking as ever. With a whispered expression of gratitude, she nestled into the pillow, her eyelids surrendering to sleep once more.
Having assured myself of her peaceful rest, I stepped softly toward the crib. Rebecca and I had decided to keep Cevia in our room during her first few months, our desire to keep her close outweighing the inconvenience. Her presence, though, posed challenges to our own intimacy, challenges we met with inventive solutions.
Beside the crib, Cevia’s small form squirmed restlessly, her tiny legs kicking in a miniature revolt, her fists dancing in exasperation. Clearly, I hadn’t reached her side as swiftly as her impatience demanded. She was, without a doubt, a demanding princess.
A fond smile tugged at my lips. While she relished the attention, she was a content baby, her cries rare, her nights mostly serene. Rebecca and I both counted ourselves fortunate for this.
My arrival didn’t escape Cevia’s notice; her movements stilled as her eyes settled on me. Mewling sounds escaped her as she lay there, a portrait of innocence tinged with vulnerability. She was a vision of adorable charm.
Bending at the waist, I carefully gathered her in my arms, her diminutive figure nestled securely against my chest. As if a switch had been flicked, her cries ceased, and her gaze met mine. Tear-blurred blue eyes gazed up at me, stirring a profound ache within my chest. The sight of her tears was a pang to my heart; watching my daughter cry was a sensation I wished to protect her from.
She would never experience pain, not as her mother and I had. My determination to shield her from any hurt was unyielding. The mere thought of anyone causing her harm fueled a primal rage within me, a vow to extinguish anyone who dared bring her suffering. That was non-negotiable.
Gently, I wiped away her tears, my thumb grazing her tender cheeks. “Settle down now, little one,” I cooed, my voice a tender murmur by her ear.
In response, a hiccup and a pout were her contributions, drawing a quiet chuckle from me. Cevia had already woven her charms around us all.
Turning my gaze to Rebecca, I found her enfolded in sleep’s embrace. With a fond smile, I allowed my eyes to linger before silently leaving the room.
The nursery door ajar, I entered and met Cevia’s sleepy gaze. Those blue eyes blinked slowly, on the precipice of slumber. It wouldn’t be long before she’d drift off again.
Her legs kicked in a languid motion, a tiny hiccup escaping her. “Yes, my dear. Diaper change it is.”
The diaper’s fullness was unmistakable; it explained her abrupt awakening. Shaking my head in wry amusement, I carefully placed her on the changing table. A contented coo accompanied the smallest twitch of her lips-a smile so pure and genuine.
Undoubtedly, she was the epitome of cuteness. And in her own way, she had managed to captivate my heart, much like her mother had done months ago.
A mere year ago, had you posed the question of whether I’d find myself tenderly cooing and meticulously changing the diapers of an infant, I’d have met it with incredulous laughter, perhaps even a playful nudge of disbelief. The notion would have appeared utterly preposterous.
Yet, here I stand, my world now unimaginably intertwined with the presence of Cevia. She has woven herself into the fabric of my heart, staking a claim that defies detachment. Akin to my cherished Angel, she has become an indelible part of my existence.
These two, both uniquely mine, have converged to mend the fragments of my once fractured heart. This sentiment, though laughably implausible in its conception, has become my reality. Everything seems to possess an air of surrealism, as if I’m ensconced in an ethereal reverie.
Yet, such musings dissipate as I awaken by Rebecca’s side, her lithe form enveloping mine in a secure embrace. Her eyes flutter open, emanating an affectionate gaze that seems to reach into my very soul. Simultaneously, Cevia’s distant cooing or cries serve as a constant reminder that this is no dream.
In Rebecca’s embrace, I’ve discovered my Angel, and through her, I’ve been bestowed a princess. My reverie is broken as Cevia’s leg impatiently nudges against my chest. Her restlessness prompts me to remove her delicate onesie, the first step in what I consider a daunting endeavor.
Stretching across the changing table, I procure a diaper. With a fortifying breath, I undertake the seemingly Herculean task ahead. “Alright, my Princess,” I declare, determination in my voice.
In deft motions, the old diaper is discarded, and Cevia is cleansed. My internal countdown lends urgency to the process as I swiftly secure a fresh diaper around her tiny form. Thirty seconds an achievement punctuated by the absence of any unsavory mishaps. A silent exultation ripples through me, a far cry from Brayden’s previous misadventure.
A chuckle ripples within me at the recollection. Brayden’s anguished protests still resonate, a testament to the folly of engaging with a naked infant. My amusement remains internal as I reflect on the day’s lesson: a naked baby is not to be trifled with, and swift diaper changes are the order of the day.
Once Cevia is dressed anew, I cradle her within my arm’s curve. She nestles against me, her tiny frame almost sighing in contentment. Her eyes drift closed, and a smile tugs at my lips. In Rebecca, I’ve found love, and in these recent weeks, I’ve discerned that my daughter’s heart is mine as well.
Seated in the gentle rhythm of a rocking chair, I watch my little princess drift into slumber. Her form relaxes in my arms, swaying in tandem with my motions. As the tendrils of drowsiness encroach upon my consciousness, I allow myself to rest my head against the chair’s back, eyelids fluttering shut.
In that fleeting moment, the encompassing thought is one of gratitude. The evolution from my days before Rebecca to our life together is palpable, a transformation yet resonant with the core of who I am. My Angel has illuminated my humanity, embracing both light and shadow. She has gifted me a family a daughter to adore, a role that has emboldened my spirit.
A serene smile graces my lips as I hold Cevia even closer, her tranquility mirrored in my own drifting slumber.