Chapter 19

The crying of a baby wakes me up. I look toward the source of the noise and see a small transparent crib where a baby dressed in pink pajamas is located. The little one moves her little arms in the air while crying.

I smile at the overwhelming flurry of emotions that make my chest vibrate; it's my baby.

Still drowsy and overwhelmed, I search every corner of the hospital room until I spot Johnny sleeping on a sofa in front of the bed where I am.

"Johnny," I call out, my voice coming out hoarse from lack of use. He doesn't wake up, and the place where he looks uncomfortable; his legs hang off the sofa. "Johnny!" I raise my voice a bit louder, and he stirs but doesn't get up, and my baby's crying is starting to make me desperate. "Johnny!" I shout, causing him to startle and fall to the floor.

I laugh.

"Huh? What?" he questions in a sleepy and confused tone.

I glance out the window in the room and deduce from the light filtering through that it's approximately seven or eight in the morning.

"The baby is crying. What's wrong?" I turn to him, trying to move, but my whole body hurts.

"Ah..." he hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. "The nurse said that if she cries, it's probably because she's hungry. She also showed me how to prepare the bottle." He continues uncertainly, but he approaches the crib to pick up the baby.

My eyes take in every detail of the scene—the way he rocks her without even realizing it, his eyes fixed on her face, his inexperienced hands trying to hold her perfectly with an evident fear of dropping her.

"But I think she's very hungry..." he hands her to me. "It's better if you breastfeed her while I prepare the bottle," he adds seriously, and my chest becomes overwhelmed with a million emotions as I vaguely stretch my arms to take her.

I hold her, and describing how it feels is indescribable. My chest and entire soul are filled with the scent of my daughter. Getting her to latch onto my breast is a bit challenging and very painful, but I manage to get her to eat, ignoring everything else.

Johnny steps back a bit, then takes things out of the diaper bag. I shift my attention to the beautiful baby in my arms. She looks just like Johnny, with his features, more feminine but undeniably his. Her hair is blonde, like his. She is beautiful and doesn't resemble me, which momentarily fills me with fear that my family will realize who the father is when I introduce her to them. I swallow nervously with concern.

"I think it's ready," I startle at the sudden sound of his voice. He stands in front of me, handing me a bottle filled with milk. "I'll feed her so you can rest a little longer."

I nod and remove my breast from the baby's mouth. He takes her very carefully, as if afraid she might break, and uncovers the bottle before putting it in her mouth.

She clumsily sucks on it while he watches her attentively as if she were his adoration.

"Don't be silly, you're seeing things that aren't there. Remember, for him, your baby is a mistake. He's only helping you to feel better about yourself."

The words from my subconscious make the silly smile on my face disappear. I look at him again, and our gazes meet. His gaze sends a strong electric current through my entire body. He gives me a half-smile, causing a million emotions to stir inside me, but I don't show anything. I just look at him seriously and then turn away.

I can't fall into his game. I know exactly what he's like.

A few minutes later, he puts the baby back in the crib and lies down on the sofa again, fidgeting with every movement.

"If you want, I can give you some space in the bed, Johnny," I suggest, not wanting him to be uncomfortable because of me.

"It's a very small bed, Laura. You won't be comfortable..."

"It doesn't matter, Johnny. Come here," I interrupt. He gets up from the sofa and walks to the bed. I make room for him, and he lies down.

He's only wearing the pants and shirt he had on a few hours ago. He rolls up his sleeves to his elbows.

I position myself on my side, trying to provide more space, and he does the same.

"Rest, Laura," he whispers, and his warm breath brushes against the back of my ear, causing goosebumps to rise all over my skin.

"Rest, Johnny," I repeat, somewhat nervous.

.......

We're on our way home, both in the back seats of the car being driven by my chauffeur. Our daughter is in the middle of us, but the atmosphere inside is heavy due to the annoyance I felt upon obtaining the birth certificate and seeing Johnny's signature in the place that designates him as the legal representative of the baby.

"I'm sorry, Laura, but the nurse said it had to be that way," he apologizes, and I no longer feel like arguing, so I just nod.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I just want to get home and rest. After that, if you want, you can leave. I don't want to inconvenience you," I mutter sternly, and he looks at me and shakes his head.

"I won't leave, Laura. I'll be with you this week." Surprise replaces anger in a second, but I force myself to look away and not show it.

"We've arrived, sir," Marco speaks to Johnny, who opens the door on his side and takes the baby's car seat, lifting it to pass it to Marco. Then he approaches my door and helps me out carefully.

Once outside, he wraps his arm around my waist, and we start walking slowly toward the house. Marco, who is in front of us with the baby, opens the door, and behind it, we see Luna, Karla, and Merci, all smiling. They approach the baby to get to know her.

"She's beautiful, Mrs. Laura," Luna comments, unable to take her eyes off her.

"Wow! She's the cutest baby I've ever seen!" I smile at Merci.

"She looks just like you, sir," Karla tells Johnny. "It seems like you did all the work during her creation," she adds with a mischievous smile. Upon hearing her comment, I feel my cheeks flush. Luna gives Karla a small hit on the arm, and she complains.

I look up to see Johnny, and he's holding back a laugh.

We continue on our way to my room, where Marco has left the baby, and Johnny helps me lie down on the bed.

"Finally, someone who gives me some credit," he says, making me focus on him.

I can only see his back as he arranges the baby in a small crib that was in my room, where she would sleep for the first few days before moving to her room, which, by the way, was already prepared.

"I'm sorry?" I don't understand what he means.

"I mean, finally someone gives me some credit. I mean, you fell asleep after our 'creation,' and I fell asleep after that, that's why she looks like me," he tries to joke, but he's really bad at it.

"I was drunk, you idiot. Maybe if that hadn't been my state at that moment, I would have never slept with you," or at least not so quickly, let's not deny it.

He looks at me from the corner of his eye before letting out a laugh. In response, I turn around and close my eyes.

I don't want to talk to him anymore.