After naming the baby Abigail and seeing her for the first time in the incubator, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with a mix of emotions. There was joy, relief, and an unspoken fear lingering at the back of my mind. I said a silent prayer in my heart that everything should go well until she was fully ready to be taken home. I sat beside Dante in the hospital room, trying to process everything. He hadn't said much after that moment in the neonatal unit, but his hand hadn't left mine, grounding me in a way I hadn't realized I needed. I was extremely grateful for his unwavering support, it was everything I needed.
"Abigail," I whispered again, testing the sound of it on my lips, a smile played across my lips. Dante's thumb brushed over my knuckles, and took a glance at him, catching the small, almost imperceptible smile on his face.
"She's strong, just like you," he said quietly, his gaze fixed on the wall ahead. I knew he was trying to hold back the torrent of emotions threatening to spill out, and I couldn't blame him. The past few weeks had been nothing short of a rollercoaster.
My thoughts were interrupted by the nurse coming in to check my vitals. She offered a kind smile, informing us that Abigail was stable and responding well. A wave of relief washed over me, and I squeezed Dante's hand tighter, feeling his grip tighten in return.
"You should rest," Dante said after the nurse left. His voice was gentle but firm, and I knew he wouldn't take no for an answer.
"I'm too anxious to sleep," I admitted, glancing at the clock on the wall. Visiting hours for the neonatal unit wouldn't open for a few more hours, and Dante had informed me that my mom would be coming to visit.
He shifted in his seat, as if debating whether to push the topic further. Instead, he just moved closer and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "You're stronger than you think, Sienna and I'm proud of you, but Abigail's going to need you at your best."
My heart ached at his words. I knew he was right, but the fear of the unknown was still too much.I still had a lot of doubts and what if? running through my mind. I leaned against his chest, letting his warmth soothe me. At that moment, I felt like I could let down my guard, just for a while.
A soft knock on the door pulled us apart, and I straightened up as the door creaked open. My mother stepped in, cautiously making her way inside and to my surprise, both my dad and Sister, Daphne came along as well. A surge of guilt washed through me that I hadn't made out time to visit them even though we spoke over the phone occasionally.
"Oh my dear," my dad said, his voice trembling. "I'm glad you're okay." he said, giving me a soft hug. I felt tears trickle down my cheeks, and quickly wiped it off with the back of my palm.
I nodded slowly, unsure how to respond. Dante gave me a reassuring look before standing up. "I'll give you all some space" he said , before leaving the room, and the silence that followed was thick and felt like a heavy weight on my chest.
"We're so sorry, we failed you, we should've been there for you, but I'm glad you're okay, please forgive us," My dad said, tears welling up. "I didn't know... I didn't know how to make things right."
There was so much I wanted to say—how I'd felt abandoned, how I'd craved their support, but at that moment, none of it mattered. Maybe they were right after all, right about Marcus being wrong for me. Of course, they were right. "It's alright now, it's all in the past," I whispered. "Still mad at me?" I asked, turning to my sister, Daphne.
She approached hesitantly and took my hand. "I'm sorry for being a jerk to you, you didn't deserve that." I sniffed trying to hold back the pool of tears that gathered up in my eyes. "Come here," I said, pulling her into my embrace.
Even though there were a lot of amends to be made, one step at a time, I told myself. They all excitedly asked about the baby and I assured them that she was doing just fine in the incubator.
A while later, Dante returned, his face showing mild surprise when he saw my family was still there, but he didn't comment. Instead, he set a small bag on the bedside table. "Brought you some things from home."
"Thank you for taking good care of my daughter," My dad said, turning to Dante. "I always thought you rich people never had the heart, but I'm grateful she has you, thank you." Dante let out a soft smile, not reaching his eyes. "She's my wife, and taking care of her is my responsibility so it's not a big deal?" He replied.
As the day wore on, more visitors trickled in—friends from work, a few of Dante's business partners who had heard the news. A lot of gifts were sent to me in the hospital and I was overwhelmed. I never imagined the show of love and support, even from strangers who were supporters of Dante. It was overwhelming but comforting to know that we weren't alone in this.
Later that evening, as the hospital quieted down, Dante helped me walk to the neonatal unit to see Abigail again. She looked so tiny and fragile in the incubator, but seeing her move just a little made my heart swell.
Dante's hand slipped around my waist, steadying me as I leaned closer. "She's going to be okay," he murmured, and for the first time, I felt like I could believe it.
We stood there in silence, watching the beautiful angel sleep, and for that moment, everything else faded away. It didn't matter how complicated things were between us—Abigail was here, and she was our priority.