Pregnant by the Mob Boss {18+}

44

ROSE

"Mom, don't you ever see me too?"

"Mom, I'm also your child."

"Mom, can I also be loved by you?" 

"I really want to be loved."

"Mom, can you also read me a book?'"

"Mom, you are standing by my side, but why do I feel like you have already abandoned me as your child?" 

"Mom, don't leave me." 

"Mom, why does my heartache?"

"Mom, can you help me?"

"Mom, can you hear me?"

"Mom, please protect me." 

♡

"Dad, is there something wrong with me?"

"Dad, don't hurt me, I'm also your child."

"Dad, can you love me too?"

"Dad, why can't you see me? I'm also your child." 

"Dad, why did you abandon me?"

"Dad, why did you never protect me?"

"Dad, why don't you never want to see me?" 

"Dad, why did you ever hurt me?"

♡

Have you ever been woken up by crying in your sleep? I did.

I woke up from my sleep with a flood of tears in my eyes as my throat felt like it was suffocating me, not allowing an ounce of air into my airways.

The twins were in slumber when I sat up on the bed, and I found myself in tears as if my heart were made of broken glass, and with each heartbeat, the broken piece of glass was piercing me from within.

It hurts to be abandoned by the people who were supposed to love you.

But it hurts even more when they never even tried to love you in the first place.

Why was my mother always defending my father and my half-sister? Why did she always take their side? Why couldn't she be the only parent who loved me? Why do people always tend to abandon me?

I take a moment to look at my children, and I wonder how my parents could easily abandon me? 

Because I could never abandon my children, I would rather die than see them go through the same pain that I did.

I bit into the side of my wrist to avoid waking up the twins, but it was futile as the tears burst out of my eyes while the ache in my heart grew.

Nikolai opened the door as he strode inside and stood beside the bed while he crossed his arms. He continued to stand next to me to the point I could only let out a few cries at most.

"Don't you want to go to therapy for your own sake?" He asks, as he glances at my wrist, where a slight wound had been left by my teeth.

"I have tried once."

"Then try again." He argues, while walking over to a shelf in the room and taking out the first aid-kid.

"I'm surprised that you know about therapy?" I mumble, since my voice came out as a rasp while I wiped a few tears from my blurry eyes.

"I also tried it once," He explains, as he walks back towards me and places the first-aid kit on my lap.

"But you should try therapy again. All hope is not lost on you." It felt like he was referring to himself in his last statement, but I didn't ask, since he's reserved when it comes to his personal matters.

Once my vision was no longer a blur, I opened the first-aid kit as I treated the wound on my wrist, since I bit too hard into my skin when I tried to stop myself from waking up the twins.

"You might have postpartum depression, it can happen to women after they give birth. It's better to get that checked out, or else it might lead to something worse, like postpartum psychosis," He tells me, as he turns around and begins to walk towards the door.

"It is not too late for you." He adds as he made his way out of the bedroom.

Nikolai Novikov had been right, It was not too late for me because a broken heart has the capacity to eventually heal.