Between a Tombstone and a Life

Between a Tombstone and a Life
Dominic’s Point of View

The wind was cold that morning, but I barely noticed it. I stood there, facing the headstone, as if the whole world had shrunk down to fit onto that small patch of ground. Her name was carved into the stone, solid, definitive… and yet, my mind refused to accept that this meant the end. I let out a low sigh, running my hand over my face before looking at my sister’s name again.

“You always hated places like this… too quiet,” I murmured, my voice low, almost as if I were afraid of breaking the heavy silence around me. “She’d probably be complaining right now… saying this place is depressing, and that I’m even more so for coming to talk to a headstone.” I shook my head slightly, a faint smile appearing without any strength. “Maggie and Chiara… they’re trying.” My voice came out firmer this time, as if I were merely stating facts, organizing my thoughts. “They miss you… so much. You can see it in everything. Maggie thinks that if I see her cry… I’ll fall apart too.” I let out a small breath through my nose. “So she doesn’t cry in front of me, at least not the way I know she wants to.” I ran my tongue over my lips, tasting the dryness. “And Chiara… she’s being strong for Noah. He’s blaming himself, thinks it was because of them… that you were there. He doesn’t know what to do about it, and I don’t know how to help him.”

I swallowed hard, feeling something tighten in my chest, but not enough to break me.

“I’m trying not to lose myself in this, too,” I continued, more quietly. “But I think about it… all the time.” My jaw tensed. “If I’d followed my instinct… if I’d stopped you guys from going…” I shook my head, cutting myself off before that thought went any further. It was no use; I knew that. I exhaled slowly. “Your mother is at the mansion,” I said after a few seconds, my tone as neutral as possible. “Not because I want her to be, because… no matter what happens to this family… I can’t look at her as my mother anymore.” My gaze drifted away for a moment, staring into nothingness before returning to the headstone. “Maggie was the one who insisted. She said she was… devastated at the funeral.” I sighed. “And she really was. I just… hadn’t cared enough, when so many of us were dealing with our own pain.”

I ran my hand through the back of my neck, feeling the weight of it, but still distant, as if it weren’t entirely mine.

“She’s not well; she barely gets out of bed. She just… sits there, staring into space.” I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “The only one who can pull her out of that state is Jamie.” My eyes softened a little at the mention of my son. “It seems you performed a miracle, Yulia. Your last act on this earth was to make your mother feel something for someone other than herself.”

Silence settled in again, because I was talking to a headstone; there were no answers. I stepped a little closer, reaching out to touch the cold stone of the headstone; my fingers stayed there for a few seconds, feeling the texture, as if it were… real enough to anchor me.

I shook my head slowly.

“Maggie thinks I’m depressed… or in denial,” I said, letting out a small sigh. “But that’s not it.” I ran my thumb over the stone, distracted. “I just… keep thinking about the conversation we had when she died.” I paused briefly, remembering. “What you told me. You wouldn’t want to see me broken, drunk… lost.” I stared at her name. “Especially now… with Maggie about to give birth and Jamie needing me.” I took a deep breath. “And you definitely wouldn’t want me to become a vengeful jerk.” The corner of my mouth twitched slightly. “So I’m not doing that.” I straightened up, keeping my hand on the headstone for another second before letting it fall to my side. “Besides… thanks to Maggie, the man who did this to you is already dead.”

Silence returned, thicker this time. I ran my hand over my chin, thoughtfully, before letting out a small sigh.

“I know you want to know about Nicolai,” I said, almost automatically. “But… I don’t have much to tell you.” I looked down for a moment, then looked back up. “He loves you. You know that, but he doesn’t know what to do with the pain, and you can’t help him this time… I wish I could do more, but I don’t know what to say.” I nodded slightly, as if that closed the subject.

I stayed there for a few more seconds, just looking. Without haste, without urgency, as if time had completely lost its meaning in that place.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I murmured at last. “At the same time.” I took one last look at the headstone, then turned my back; I didn’t turn back—that was something I couldn’t do. I had to keep walking in the same direction… so I left.

When I returned to the mansion, the silence of the place struck me in a strange way; it wasn’t the comfortable silence of before, nor the heavy silence of utter mourning… it was something in between, as if the whole house were holding its breath. I found Maggie in the living room, standing near the tall window, her hands resting on the back of the sofa. The late afternoon light streamed through the glass and traced the outline of her body, highlighting the curve of her already large belly. She didn’t turn around when I entered; she just kept looking out, as if lost in some distant thought. My eyes automatically searched for Jamie.

Nothing.

No toys scattered about, no noise, no laughter echoing through the hallways. That, in itself, was already strange.

“Where’s Jamie?” I asked, my voice coming out calm, but with a low tension I didn’t even bother to hide.

Maggie turned her face toward me then, slowly, as if she’d come back from far away, and I saw the glimmer of concern—it was always there, waiting for me to do something that would break through the barrier of containment she thought I’d built to cope with the loss of my sister.

“She’s out there… with Irina. In the garden.”

My jaw tensed immediately.

Irina.

I didn’t answer, just nodded slightly and turned, already heading toward the back door.

“Dominic…” I heard Maggie call, her voice low and cautious.

I didn’t stop; I opened the door and stepped out into the garden. The air was cool, with the faint scent of cut grass and damp earth; the distant sound of birds filled the space, but what really caught my attention was the laughter.

Jamie’s laughter.

I paused for a second midway, my body still moving, but my mind… slowing down. My eyes took in the scene in the center of the garden. A light-colored blanket spread out on the grass, toys scattered about, and the two of them. My mother was sitting on the ground, her legs folded to the side, her simple dress stained green where it touched the grass. Jamie was in front of her, laughing loudly as she made some kind of exaggerated face, moving her hands as if she were telling an absurd story. He was roaring with laughter.

Happy.

I stopped completely, let out a slow, almost imperceptible sigh, before starting to walk again, now more slowly. Each step seemed calculated, and when I got close enough, the shadow of my presence fell over them, and my mother looked up first. Her smile faltered, giving way to something more restrained and cautious.

“Dominic,” she said, her voice low.

Jamie turned his face right away, his eyes shining.

“Dad!” he exclaimed, still laughing.

My gaze swept over him quickly, checking to see if he was okay, unharmed… safe, and only then did I turn back to her.

“When do you plan to leave?” I asked bluntly, without beating around the bush.

The silence that followed was brief but heavy. She held my gaze for a moment, then looked away slightly, as if weighing her words before speaking.

“If my presence is bothering you so much… I can leave now,” she replied, far too calmly.

I looked away. Not because I had no answer, but because I had too many words stuck in my throat. Then I heard Jamie’s voice again.

“Grandma!” I looked back automatically.

He had thrown himself against her in an awkward hug, his little arms wrapping tightly around her neck. My mother hesitated for a split second… then hugged him back, and it was at that moment that I saw the tears. They trickled silently down her face, one after another, while she kept smiling at him. Something… stirred inside me, not strong enough to break me, but enough to unsettle me. Jamie laughed, pulling away, then blew a kiss into the air for her before running off across the grass after something invisible to me.

We stood in silence for a few seconds. She looked at him, and I looked at her.

“Life has a cruel way of teaching,” she said suddenly, her voice choked but controlled. “It gives you the hardest lessons… just to show you what was always right in front of you.” I didn’t answer; she took a deep breath, then continued. “I know I don’t deserve anything from you. No consideration, after everything I’ve done.” She turned her face toward me then and let out a small, dry laugh. “I told you it was me who planted that suspicion in Seattle. So you’d find out about Maggie.” She tilted her head slightly. “But I never told you the real reason.” My gaze hardened. “I wanted you to find Jamie,” she continued, bluntly. “You refused to have children. He was the only possible heir.” My body went rigid. “I knew you wouldn’t forgive Maggie,” she said, her voice now lower. “Especially knowing she didn’t intend to come back.” She swallowed hard. “So the outcome would be simple. You’d have your heir… and you’d divorce her.”

My heart… didn’t race; it just… seemed to grow even colder.

I stared at her, expressionless.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I asked.

She sighed, glancing briefly at the sky before turning back to me.

“Because I want you to know the truth. I have nothing left but you, Dominic. I want you to be happy,” she replied. “And because I want you to do the opposite of everything I planned.”

We stared at each other. No masks, no defenses, just… truth.

“Grandma!” Jamie called again.

I looked to the side, and he was running toward us, a small handful of crushed flowers in his hand, then stopped in front of her, holding out one of them with a proud smile.

“For you.”

My mother smiled. A small, broken smile.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, taking the flower carefully, as if it were something too precious.

She kissed his cheek, lingering a second longer than usual; I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and looked away.

I turned to leave.

“I’ll leave as soon as I’m done with Jamie,” I heard her say behind me.

I stopped, then stood in silence for a few seconds, looking at the garden ahead of me, and exhaled slowly.

“Jamie likes you,” I said, still with my back to her. “And Maggie doesn’t want you to be alone.” I closed my eyes for a brief moment before continuing. “Even after everything… she doesn’t want you to suffer.” I opened my eyes. “You can stay… for now.”

The silence behind me stretched on for a second, then I heard it.

“Thank you… son.” Her voice broke in the middle of the word.

I didn’t turn around; I just kept walking and didn’t look back.

Later, it was already night and I was lying down, staring at the ceiling, as I had almost every night for the past three weeks. The room was dark, lit only by the faint light seeping through the cracks in the curtains; the silence was deep, but never complete. There was always something… an echo, a distant sound that seemed to pull me back to that day. I didn’t sleep well, and when I did, it was worse. The dreams were too vivid, too real. The sound of the gunshot, her body falling, the blood… always the blood. I’d wake up with a tightness in my chest, sometimes gasping for air, sometimes with the feeling that I was still there.

That’s why I avoided sleeping.

I turned my face slightly and picked up my phone from the nightstand; the screen’s light illuminated my face for a second.

11:59 p.m.

There were a few seconds left, so I just stared at it, waiting anxiously. It was strange—in any other situation, that would be pathetic. A grown man waiting for the minute to turn as if that would change anything, but it did.

12:00 a.m.

The moment the numbers changed, I heard the door. The soft click of the doorknob turning, the faint sound of the door being opened carefully, and then… silence again.

I didn’t move, I didn’t look, I just waited. Seconds later, I felt the mattress give way beside me and then… the warmth. Her body drawing closer, fitting against mine, her belly pressing lightly against my side as she settled in. Her arm slid over my abdomen, and her head rested on my bare chest.

Maggie.

This had been happening since the night after Yulia’s death. The first time… I had woken up screaming; I remembered it with uncomfortable clarity. The room spinning, my breath faltering, the feeling that I was still watching her fall in front of me—Maggie had held me, telling me it was a nightmare, that I was there, that I was safe. She hugged me and sang softly, as if I were a child, and somehow I managed to sleep for a few more hours. When I woke up, I spent the rest of the night watching her sleep; her hand resting on her belly, which seemed to grow bigger every day, and that… anchored me. On the nights that followed, I didn’t scream anymore, but at midnight, she always came. We never said a word; she would just hold me and sleep. I didn’t even know if she knew I was awake, so I stayed there… watching her, feeling her breath, the weight of her body against mine. That calmed something inside me I couldn’t put into words.

That night, I decided to test it. As soon as I felt her arm wrap around me, I spoke.

“You don’t have to do this.” My voice came out low, breaking the silence in the room.

She was silent for a moment; I felt her body go still for a second, as if she hadn’t expected me to be awake, then she replied.

“I want to.” Her voice was soft. “I’ve already caused you so much pain… I want to make up for at least a little of what you’re feeling right now.”

I stayed silent; I didn’t know what to say. Words seemed… useless.

“Did you try talking to Nicolai?” she asked after a while, still speaking softly.

I closed my eyes for a second.

“He wants to keep his pain to himself,” I replied. “Until he figures out what to do with it, I’m not going to interfere.” I swallowed hard. “I know how that feels.”

She was silent for a moment.

“I don’t want him to stay alone,” she murmured.

“Neither do I,” I replied. “But… sometimes that’s how you find a way forward.”

Silence fell again.

“Marco…” she began.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” I cut her off immediately.

My voice came out harsher than I intended, and I felt her body shift slightly against mine.

“Chiara said he’s blaming himself,” Maggie continued, carefully. “And… that he’s troubled by what Massimo said before he died. About her grandfather.”

My jaw tightened.

“I hope it eats away at him,” I said, coldly. “And that he never finds any answers.”

Silence.

“You know that, deep down, he’s not the one to blame,” she said, hesitantly. “Not that I want to defend him, but…”

“I have to blame someone.”

My voice faltered at the end, almost imperceptibly, but it faltered. I’d held my ground for weeks, controlled and steady. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to bring that up, maybe I should have stayed quiet and let her hold me.

“Then blame him,” Maggie said softly. “It’s okay.” Her hand rose, touching my face gently. “But don’t blame yourself, Dominic.” I felt her face nestle against my neck. “I’m scared,” she continued. “That you’re being so strong… holding it all in… and that it’s tearing you apart inside.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“She was my sister,” I murmured. “My responsibility.” My throat tightened. “I should have protected her.” My voice began to falter. “She did it for me… she jumped in front of…”

“She loved you,” Maggie interrupted, firmly. Her hand squeezed my face tighter. “That shows just how amazing a brother you were to her.” I felt it, felt it all at once. “Dominic… let it hurt,” she whispered. “Let it all out. I’m here.” Her arm wrapped around me tighter. “I’ll hold you. I’m not going anywhere.”

The silence that followed… was different. It wasn’t empty, it wasn’t heavy.

It was… full, and then I felt more.

The tears came.

First one.

Then another, and then I couldn’t stop.

I was really crying. Unrestrained, uncontrolled, and in a way I hadn’t allowed myself before.

Maggie pulled me closer to her.

“Cry,” she murmured. “I’m here to dry every single one of them. I’m here to hold this pain with you.”

“Will you be?” I asked, my voice faltering amid the sobs. “Until when?”

I felt her take a deep breath against my skin.

“Until whenever you want me to.”

I didn’t answer; I just… let it happen.

I cried.

I let it all out.

The pain, the guilt, the loss.

Until there was nothing left, until my body gave in and darkness came after that, and for the first time in weeks… I slept.

When I woke up, daylight was already filling the room—that, in itself, was a victory. My hand moved automatically to the side… searching for her.

Nothing.

My eyes flew open at once, and I sat up quickly in bed, then I saw her. Maggie was sitting with her back to me, on the edge of the bed. Her shoulders tense, her breathing… uneven.

“You’re awake?” she said, turning her face slightly. “Great.”

I furrowed my brow immediately.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“Yes… I’m fine.” But her breath was too short. Something was wrong. “But…” she continued, placing her hand on her stomach and taking a deep breath. “I’m in labor.”

I froze.

“What?”

She let out a small, tired laugh, turning her body to face me fully. A smile spread across her face.

“Our baby is coming.”