Chapter 101 Last Hope
Maureen Laskovic
Two days.
Forty-eight hours since I slept.
To someone else, that might have been the worst part. The aching head. The burning eyes. The exhaustion dragging through every bone in my body.
But to me, that wasn’t the worst of it.
Watching someone else tend to my babies was.
That was the real punishment.
I stood beside the long velvet chair near the hearth, my arms folded tightly around myself as if that might hold me together.
Vuk sat in the chair.
One baby rested in the crook of his arm while he carefully tilted the small glass bottle toward their mouth.
The milk inside it—
My milk.
Extracted earlier that morning.
The baby suckled quietly, small sounds filling the room.
Soft.
Content.
The kind of peaceful sounds that should have come when I held them.
My throat tightened.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to keep watching.
Beside Vuk, the other two babies lay in the padded cradle we had dragged closer to him.
They stirred occasionally.
Little white heads shifting.
Tiny fingers curling.
All three of them had my hair.
White.
Soft.
So small it barely covered their heads.
It made my chest ache every time I looked at them.
Vuk finished feeding the first baby and lifted the cloth resting on his shoulder, gently pressing it against the tiny mouth to wipe away the milk.
His movements were careful.
Confident.
Like he had been doing this for years.
Like he had been their parent long before I ever knew they existed.
He lifted the baby upright against his chest, lightly patting their back until a small burp escaped them.
Then he laid the baby carefully back in the cradle.
The second one stirred almost immediately.
Vuk reached down and picked them up without hesitation.
I watched every movement.
Every shift of his hands.
Every quiet murmur he made to them.
My chest felt like it was slowly being crushed from the inside.
I was their mother.
But I stood here like a guest in my own children’s life.
He tilted the bottle again.
The baby began feeding instantly.
I clenched my jaw.
The room was quiet except for the soft suckling sounds and the faint crackle of the fire.
Minutes passed.
Then Vuk finished feeding the second baby.
He repeated the same careful routine.
Burp.
Wipe.
Lay them down.
The third baby began fussing softly.
Without even looking up, Vuk reached down and lifted them too.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
My gaze dropped to the floor.
I stared at the marble beneath my feet.
White veins running through black stone.
Forty-eight hours.
Forty-eight hours of this.
Extracting milk.
Handing it to him.
Watching him feed them.
Watching them calm in his arms.
While they cried in mine.
The sound of the bottle being set down pulled me back.
When I looked up again, Vuk was already walking toward me.
One baby rested against his shoulder.
The other two slept quietly in the cradle.
He stopped a few steps away.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
We hadn’t spoken much in the past two days.
Not since the doctor left.
Not since my screaming had shattered half the chamber.
Vuk’s voice was low when he finally spoke.
“Come on…”
I didn’t move.
The baby in his arms shifted slightly.
Small fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt.
My chest tightened.
“Come on,” he repeated quietly.
I shook my head.
“She doesn’t like—”
The words died in my throat.
I hated how weak they sounded.
Vuk didn’t interrupt.
He didn’t argue.
Instead, he stepped closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like he was approaching a wounded animal.
Then he gently shifted the baby in his arms.
Before I could step back, he placed the tiny bundle carefully into mine.
The weight surprised me.
So small.
So warm.
My hands instinctively adjusted, supporting the baby’s head the way I had seen him do.
For a second…
Everything was quiet.
The baby blinked up at me.
Small gray eyes unfocused and sleepy.
My heart twisted painfully.
“Hi…” I whispered.
The baby’s tiny mouth opened.
Then—
A small whimper.
My stomach dropped.
The whimper grew louder.
Then louder.
The baby began crying.
Sharp.
Sudden.
The sound ripped straight through my chest.
“I knew it,” I muttered hoarsely.
My hands trembled slightly as I tried rocking the baby.
“It’s okay… it’s okay…”
The crying didn’t stop.
Behind me, I heard movement.
Vuk hadn’t stepped away.
He stood close.
Close enough that I could feel the warmth of his presence beside me.
The baby’s cries wavered.
Not stopping.
But weakening.
I froze.
Slowly… the cries softened.
Then softened again.
Until they became quiet little hiccups.
My breath caught.
The baby shifted in my arms.
Restless.
But no longer crying.
I didn’t dare move.
Didn’t dare breathe too loudly.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Vuk murmured quietly beside me.
“Support her head a little higher.”
“I know how to hold a baby,” I snapped instantly.
The words came out sharper than I meant.
But he didn’t react.
“I know,” he said quietly.
“I’m just… helping.”
Silence settled between us again.
I adjusted my grip slightly anyway.
The baby made a small sound.
But didn’t start crying again.
Behind us, one of the other babies stirred in the cradle.
Then another.
Vuk turned and lifted one before they could start crying.
He held them easily with one arm.
The second baby followed moments later.
Soon he had both of them resting against his chest.
Three babies.
Two in his arms.
One in mine.
The room was quiet again.
The fire crackled softly.
The baby in my arms shifted closer against me.
Tiny fingers brushing weakly against the fabric of my robe.
My chest tightened painfully.
Vuk watched them carefully.
Then he glanced at me.
“You see?” he said softly.
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.
Because if I spoke right now, I might break.
The baby in my arms moved again.
One small hand slipped free from the blanket.
The tiny fingers curled around mine.
I froze.
My heart skipped violently.
The grip was weak.
Barely there.
But it was real.
For a moment, I thought maybe I imagined it.
But the fingers tightened again.
Holding on.
Vuk noticed.
I could feel his gaze shift.
But he didn’t say anything.
Not a word.
He just watched quietly.
And for the first time in two days…
The baby in my arms fell asleep.
Still holding my finger.