Picture Perfect

Chapter 33- Part 1

Weeks after arriving home from the hospital, Cora still struggles to bond with her son. While postpartum depression is said to be the cause, she can't help but feel as if something is terribly wrong. Something far more severe than what she's being told. The more time she spends with Gideon, the more displaced and detached Cora feels. The emotionally uprooting feeling surpasses her relationship with the baby, as well, seeping into every aspect of her life.

She doesn't feel like Cora Dalton anymore; in fact, she isn't quite sure who she is.

Cora coasts through the days ungracefully, lacking the rapture she once could so easily find in even the simplest of things. As her mind and heart are invariably at war, she can't bring herself to feel comfortable in her own home. She feels excluded somehow, lost. It's as if this life she's ensnared within is not her own. The house, while familiar, feels entirely foreign, and the air within it is stale and filled with despair. The entire ambiance is stagnant, suffocating.

Doing her best to misplace the looming negativity, Cora attempts to focus solely on her son. She diverts her attention as thoroughly as possible from the combined fear and pain she feels so deeply and concentrates on the precious baby who needs her. Regardless of her feelings, she must put them aside for him. For Gideon.

Blinking back tears, she blatantly ignores her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she disposes of a dirty diaper and washes her hands. Cora already knows that her appearance is uncomely; she knows that her blonde hair is ratted and limp, her once sparkling blue eyes are dull and surrounded by dark circles, and the typically pink tone of her cheeks has paled. Confirming as much by actually looking upon herself would only deepen her despondency. With a sigh, she runs her fingers through her tousled hair, unintentionally tangling them in the uncombed knots that reside within it. Piling it loosely atop her head, she secures the blonde mess with an elastic band before returning to the nursery.

Gideon snoozes silently in his crib, and Cora takes a few moments to simply look at him. He looks so content as he sleeps, his pink lips sucking at a tiny fist. He's a beautiful baby; his dark hair has grown in the last few weeks, and his tanned skin has only deepened in color. An excruciating pain stabs Cora directly in the heart.

She'd had a feeling this whole time. She had hoped that she was wrong; however, Gideon's appearance only verifies it.

While she had done an impeccable job pretending to be ignorant of the things going on around her, Cora Dalton is no fool.

Gideon is not her child.

Choking on her emotions as the confirmation sinks in, Cora turns abruptly away from the crib. She accidentally catches sight of her reflection as she tries to hurry from the room, further destroying her already deteriorated mental state. Tears rush down her face as she studies the lifeless portrait of the woman in the mirror, her eyes almost unable to recognize her. Just as she had suspected, her already light skin has lost its healthy glow, and her blue eyes are slightly sunken and lackluster. Her unwashed hair is a wretched sight, and the worn-out bathrobe she's wearing is likely ready for the trash bin. There had been a time not long ago when Cora Dalton had taken pride in her physical appearance. While she had never been vain or conceited, she'd put in considerable effort to always look her best. Cora Dalton had been beautiful. And now, well, now she couldn't resemble beauty if she tried. Cora's current appearance could be considered plain to some, but in her own mind, the words repulsive and hideous would be a more appropriate description.

More tears spring forth, spilling past her blonde eyelashes and down her ashy cheeks. How can she expect to take proper care of a baby when she can hardly care for herself?

Rushing from the room, Cora encloses herself in her bedroom, sobbing quietly into her hands. She cries until she can't any longer, desperately gasping for breath. Throwing herself dramatically onto the bed, she swiftly pulls the covers over her head to hide from the sorrowful realizations she's come upon.

Against her will and without her permission, Cora's mind conjures a single thought. As much as she tries to shove it aside and erase it entirely, it lingers at the surface of her cognizance. It screams her name, pleading for her attention, for recognition, as the question burns her brain.

If she's raising Maria Ortiz's baby, then where is Maria?

Surely, she wouldn't willingly hand over her child, Andrew's child. And especially not to Cora.

Determination settles resolutely within her bones, the undeniable and overwhelming need to know the truth burning hotly within her. Like a fire that can't be extinguished, Cora vows she'll get the answers she deserves. If Gideon is the love child of Andrew and Maria, there must be many more tidbits of information withheld from her since the day of his birth. Something had to have happened to Maria, likely something fatal if Cora knew the woman at all. And a similar circumstance must have befallen Cora's own baby if the two situations can be linked; her baby had not survived, so she'd been given Maria's baby instead. This must be the explanation for why Dr. Meyer and Andrew had been so distant and intentionally neglectful in giving Cora the details she'd repeatedly asked for. It explains why she has yet to feel a connection with Gideon in the way she so desperately desires.

Whatever the reason behind this repulsive, ruthless, and heartbreaking plot, Cora is unsure she'll ever be able to forgive those behind it.

Her mind screams at her that whatever her husband's involvement in this predicament, he did it out of love for her. However, her heart wails that if he really loved her, he wouldn't willingly inflict such excruciating pain upon her.