Talk:EESM Ideas/@comment-4423292-20140815025415

The tears of the day had dried, leaving tiny salt deposits on her cheeks. Those teas were tears of pain, and fear. Fear of giving birth. Fear of dying, like her own mother. Fear that the baby would be deformed or disabled. Liliya cried because it hurt so terribly. She cried because she missed her mother; she wanted her to be there with her, and squeeze her hand though the whole ordeal. She was scared. She was angry at herself, angry at Afanasy — look what he'd done to her!

Now, the last set of tears welled up in her eyes. This time, tears of relief. As she wept, she felt all terror draining out of her. The tests had all come back, declaring that her son was fine and healthy. And now, as she watched Afanasy holding him, and felt a surge of pride. Screw genetics — why had she ever even considered the possibility that they baby would be anything but perfect? How could he have been anything else?

Afanasy silently mouthed the words, "Illarion Afanasyevich Zverev," to the baby.

Afanasy sat on her bed now, holding the Illarion. Miroslav and Miloslava sat in chairs on her other side. They was careful to keep their distance, not wanting to intrude on this moment.

But Liliya was glad they were there. Miroslav had arguably been more helpful during the birth then Afanasy. And Miloslava — she'd needed her. She'd need to have a woman there, a woman who'd had a baby herself. And Miloslava, who had her own little son born of incest and could assure her that everything would be ok, had been the only thing that had gotten Liliya thought it.

She knew Afanasy didn't like them being here, and had wanted them to leave once the baby was born. All too soon, Miroslav would be the father and Afanasy would be the uncle. He wanted one moment — one moment — of fatherhood before that happened. Liliya would like a moment alone, but she wasn't about to tell Miroslav and Miloslava to leave. Miroslav was her very, very best friend. And Miloslava; well, she was the woman her best friend loved, and so for that she loved her too.

After a while, Afanasy regretfully handed the baby to Miroslav and Miloslava. They took turns holding him, then Miloslava brought her little toddling son Lavrentiy in, and explained to him that this was his new little cousin Illarion.

Once Lavrentiy got bored of the baby, Miloslava took him alway, and Miroslav followed after them. As he turned to close the door, he gave Liliya a smile. She smiled back.

Afanasy handed the baby back to Liliya, and then he lay down next to her on top of the blankets. He looked down at the little face of his son, nessled in her sister's arms. "Illarion Afanasyevich Zverev," he said again. Liliya squeezed his arm. They both knew, Liliya had said it a million times: That it wasn't fair. That Liliya wished they could all be Zverevs. That this is better than they ever could've hoped for; they were safe, that they were together. That having two other parents to help raise him would be very helpful. But still.

But still.