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I close my eyes, another traitorous tear slipping down my cheek.
“I saw the signs. But I thought I was imagining things, and I pushed them away. I feel so guilty.” He half smiles and squeezes my hand.
“There’s no guilt, my dear. You were always adamant in fixing broken things, but some things are beyond repair, and you have to accept it.”
“But you never allowed me the same, Dad.”
Alex walks in, passing me a cup, and the hot liquid soothes my raw throat. Quinn takes Alex’s and my hand in his and looks from one to the other.
“You’ve cried enough. I want you both to stop and instead take care of each other. Promise me.”
We nod like obedient little children.
“Don’t let the pain break you. You’re allowed to grieve but find it in you to overcome it.”
With every minute, his breath becomes uneven, and we both wait, dreading the moment his weak body will still for good. He falls asleep as Alex and I hold his hands and watch him as he rests.
Hours later, he opens his eyes once more. In my heart, I know this will be the last time I see his warm eyes and hear his voice.
“I love you both so very much.”
Quinn doesn’t hear us saying it back. His heart slows to a stop. The only sound in the room is the machine drawing a flat line. He’s gone. We don’t cry, we just keep holding his hands until the doctor steps inside and says his condolences. The nurses clear the room while we hold each other in silence until Damien and Sophia rush inside, pulling us out of our trance. Only then do we end our embrace.
A few days later, we fly to the States where we bury him beside his beloved wife.
Autumn colors paint New York, fall drawing a vivid image of loss in yellows, browns, and reds clinging on the leaves. It is the cycle of life—we are born, we live, if we’re lucky we love, and then we die. The end and the beginning seem worthless, only the span connecting the two is relevant. What we do with the time we have is on us. We decide if we exist, survive, or live brightly enough to create memories to defy the ticking clock of time.
***
Christmas comes and goes while Alex and I adjust and adapt to a life without Quinn. Damien travels back and forth between New York and Zürich, overseeing both the company and checking the construction of our home. Meanwhile, I stay in the apartment under Alex’s as I’m not ready to leave him. We preserve Quinn’s legacy and help each other through the grief. I question how I will be able to juggle two positions in two companies, but work calms me. Sophia leads the American division, never stopping as if she must push herself further. For what, I still try to figure out.
My heart heals both physically and emotionally over Quinn’s loss. The doctor confirms my heart is again stable, and relief transforms Damien’s features. It’s now I realize how he fought to hide the distress of the last months.
Today is the first day in months I wake up smiling, my happiness returning in small doses. I stretch and rise to my feet and walk to the kitchen. I wrap my arms around his naked torso, trailing kisses over his back, showing him my endless love for him and all my appreciation for how understanding he has been these last months.
“I made breakfast, baby.”
He still treats me like I’m fragile. I conclude it’s something he can’t stop. The smell of eggs and bacon fills the air. I scrunch my nose. The sudden surge of nausea overwhelms me. I bolt toward the bathroom, holding my middle, and hug the toilet, emptying my stomach. Damien yanks the door open, his eyes narrowing at me, worry marring his features.
“Don’t worry, I might have caught something.” I wave it off, but Damien insists.
“Shall I call a doctor?”
“No need. I’m better already.”
Back in the kitchen, I eat half a croissant and throw it up a few minutes later. I don’t understand my body’s reaction. I try to remember if I ever felt like this and freeze. It hits me, the only rational conclusion is I’m pregnant, and everything comes crashing down.
I never took another birth control pill after we ended our honeymoon, and my period didn’t come this month. I’m tired most of the time and nauseous, but it never crossed my mind I could be pregnant. With Quinn’s death, I was too engrossed in making the void he left in my life feel bearable.
Hope builds inside me. I dress in a haze and fly out the door when Damien stops me with his question.
“Bria, what are you doing?”
“I’ll be right back. I forgot something.”
“Wait, I’ll come with you,” he says and strides to me, but I smile over my shoulder.
“No need.”
