It was too early. How can this be? As I lay on the bed, I can already feel him wanting to go out of this world. As much as I want to, it is too early. The pain is excruciating, it's as if I'm being split open in half.
I couldn't help but scream in pain. Lucrezia stayed in the room along with the midwife. She's pacing in the room as I continue to push.
With every push, Giuliano's face comes to my mind. His charming smile, those dark intent eyes, and his curly dark hair. What I'd give to have him by my side at this very moment. I no longer notice how long has it been since I started to feel labor pains, and when I started pushing him out but when I heard him cry I felt a mixture of relief, happiness, and numbness.
"It's a boy!" The midwife said. I reach out to hold him but Lucrezia took the baby in her arms first.
"Please, let me see him," I said in a tired voice, my arms still outstretched toward him. However, Lucrezia looked at me with disdain and vitriol. She smirks and then left the room without uttering a single word.
I try to get up to follow them but the midwife has kept me down on the bed. "Please, Madonna. You must rest."
"No! I need to see my son!" I screamed. No matter how loud, or how hard I fought, Lucrezia has taken my son away from me and he's too far to reach. I can still hear his faint cry, loud in my heart.
As soon as I woke up the next day, a chambermaid told me that I must leave the palazzo immediately. I implored to see my son but the palazzo was empty. "Madonna. They all left this morning. Messer Lorenzo traveled to Naples."
Brokenhearted and utterly hopeless, I dropped to my knees as I weep from heartache.
I should have known. Now that Florence is at war with the Holy See and the king of Naples, Lorenzo willingly surrendered himself as a prisoner. The whole city is now under interdict. All churches are closed to the citizens of this city-state. The cupola and the church of Ognissanti remain their door closed, and so is my haven.
In my weakened state, I can only walk so slowly. I have to lean on every wall in order to balance myself and be able to move. My knees buckled, dropping me to the floor. I groan in the sudden rush of pain upon hitting the ground as I run my hands over the cut on my side.
Even after a month since that fateful day, I can still remember it vividly as if it were only yesterday. I lost Giuliano despite trying everything I could think of and now I lost my son too.
I was deprived of even the slightest sight of him. Is this my punishment for everything that I had done? For coming back in time and for messing with history?
I have lost so much already, I have no more to give.
1938, London
Dad has yet to respond to my calls. I want to tell him the news, I want to tell him he is going to be a grandfather. Is his objection far greater than the love he has for me? My belly is yet to swell, but I can feel my baby growing inside me and no one knew of my condition, no one to share it with.
In my loneliness, I decided to finally write to Alec about the news. He needs to know, war, or not. With a cold and nervous hand, I started to write my letter to my beloved husband. Ready to deliver the letter, I head outside, lock the door behind me and walk toward the post office.
While walking, I have a feeling of being followed. I suddenly feel scared for myself. I try to discreetly look over my shoulder and saw a handful of teenage boys following me around but I decided to simply continue my way toward the post office.
When they started getting closer, my fear escalates dramatically. I started running away and so did they. When they catch up to me, the first thing they want to take is my bag. I desperately hold onto it not because of its value but because of what's inside.
Apart from some money and the letter I meant to send, pictures of me and my husband remain inside and I would love not to lose them.
"Give it up, lady!" One of the teenagers said.
"No!" I said. When I didn't cooperate, the other kicked me in the stomach, pushing me back to the ground hard. As they take the money out of my bag, the pain crept around my abdomen. When I look down, blood suddenly flows from between my legs.
Shocked and panicked, I started screaming. The 3 teenagers looked over at me and immediately let go of the bag as soon as I scream, they ran away. I heard the whistle of the police and some people coming around towards me but my view suddenly grew dark until I could no longer see.
When I woke up, I look around to see that I am in a hospital. The first thought inside my head is my concern for my baby. When one of the nurses notices me, she immediately flashes me a smile and checks on me. "Mrs. Deighton, how are you feeling?" She said in a sweet voice.
"What happened to my baby?" I said. Her smile soon disappears from my question and she was unable to answer right away. I clutched my belly and started to pant the longer she stays silent. "What happened to my baby?" I said in a broken voice, my eyes started welling up.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Deighton but your baby didn't survive the ordeal."
I weep. My heart was broken by the loss of the love I have yet to meet. Now, I'm never getting a chance to.
"Emma, I'm sorry. I came as soon as I heard." Uncle Thomas said as he sits on the chair next to my bed.
"Thank you for coming, Uncle," I said, still laying on the bed.
"I didn't know you were with child." He said sympathetically. "I'm so sorry."
"No one knew," I confessed as I stare at the white ceiling in front of me.
"Not even your husband?" I can only shake my head no as a response. "What about Constantine?"
The mention of my father's name felt like a cut in my chest. "I have been calling him, but he has not answered a single call from me."
"That stubborn old fool. I'll handle it." He said.
"No, please Uncle," I said, finally looking at him. His face was determined until he saw me glance at him. His face softens as he nodded in agreement. "I'm sure he's still upset about me marrying Alec."
He then rolls his eyes upon hearing me. "He needs to get over it, my dear. He should have respected your decision for a husband. He should have known better."
I smile bitterly at the memory of my father walking away upon confirming that I will indeed be marrying Alec months ago. "I'd love to hear from him only if he wants to talk to me. Knowing my dad, he would not talk to me until he deems himself ready."
We were silent for a while, reeling at the subject. My father, despite everything, has always been close to me and by far, this is the longest he has not talked to me. Sometimes I worry, but if he is unwell, he would always let me or uncle Thomas know.
I just wish this would not take a long while. I miss him. "How long have you been pregnant, Emma?" Uncle said, derailing from our previous topic.
"I am—was— 4 months pregnant," I said, suddenly realizing that I am no longer carrying a child inside me.
"Why didn't you tell Alec?"
I pushed myself up from the bed to sit upright and sigh before responding to him. "I was afraid it would distract him from his duties at first but when I finally wrote him a letter to inform him of my pregnancy, I lost the baby. I never get to send the letter I intend to."
My uncle may not fully understand the pain of losing a child, but he knew the loss of a very important person in life. On that note, uncle Thomas stood up and hugs me. As he comforts me, I could not help but think about my dad and my husband. I pray for the safety of both.
1478, Florence
I lost another one. At least this time, I know he's alive. I just hope he survives. Florence is in a different state right now. The busy and vibrant street now became empty and quiet.
Now that Lorenzo has become a prisoner, most of the Pazzis are dead or exiled, and my life suddenly became eery and filled with nothing but tragedy. I keep losing everyone I love. I lost my mother, my father, and Alec. Giuliano and my son can now be added to the list.
The only memory I have of my son is his cry as he is being taken away from me. Since Giuliano's death, I could no longer find a day where I have not shed a tear. I cannot bring myself to eat with Semiramide or Aunt Simona. I stay inside my room with nothing but good and bad memories playing inside my head.
There are moments such as this that make me think that losing the people I love has become a curse placed upon me for me what my parents have done. Or is it perhaps from what I have done? Lately, it is difficult to even say.
My whole life has been such a mess since its conception that I sometimes wonder if I was meant to even exist in this life only to witness the demise of the people I love.
A very sad life this is.
"I could not bring her to talk to me. She speaks nothing but tears. You need to help us." Aunt Simona said. She was outside my door but because of the emptiness and silence in the room, I could hear their conversation well.
I wonder who she is talking to. After a few knocks, the door opened then Aunt Simona spoke once again. "My dear, Botticelli is here to see you."
I heard shuffling movements and footsteps, and then the door closes. I fixated my eyes on my window. Too tired and unbothered to look at him. "It's been a while." He said but I stayed silent. "I heard what happened. Forgive me, I cannot understand how difficult it must have been but I'm always here if you needed to talk, like always."
Talking to him has always been a relief for me, but in this case, I no longer feel certain that it would happen. I do not know what to say or how to begin. It used to be so easy to tell him everything, but things changed between us.
Even after what I did to him, he's always there for me, always there to save me and I could never understand why. "They told me about what you did. Aunt Simona said you carried me home when you saw me unconscious on the street." I said, remembering the day I left the palazzo in a weakened state. "You should have left me there."
"What did you say?" He said in disbelief.
"You should have left me there," I repeated as I turn to face him stoically.
His brows crease. Either from frustration or disbelief, I no longer care. "Are you hearing yourself? Why would you say such a thing?" He said, his voice rising a little from frustration. "You could have died!"
"Then it would have been better! It appears I have lost everything else anyway!" I said as tears fall down my cheeks.
"I know you have lost Giuliano and your son but I lost my friend too!" He then walks closer to me. "We all lost someone when Giuliano left. No matter how tragic and horrible his death was, you must move on. There is no point in living in the past."
"You may have lost a friend but I lost 2 people, Botticelli. 2, not 1." It's been weeks since I gave birth but I could not cope with the loss. I look down as my tears continue to stream down. "I was not even able to look at him, nor touch him. He was immediately taken as soon as I gave birth to him." My knees suddenly felt weak, and I dropped to my knees and cried. Botticelli kneels next to me and hugs me tight as he rubs my arm. "It was too soon, I did not even know if he survives," I said as I hug him back and cry in his chest. "Why does this always happen to me?"
He then hugged me tighter and gently rocks me to comfort me. I may have been unable to stop my tears since then but having him comfort me felt a little better. I clutch his sleeve as I weep until my tears finally cease.
We were silent. Both of us knew that words are insufficient at the moment. As we sit on the floor, leaning on the side of the bed, I finally felt able to feel something other than pain and loss.
"At least I have said everything I wanted to Giuliano. I wish I could have done the same with my son." I said as I look at the wall.
"You can always write the things you wish you could have said. I can always send it out for you. Perhaps we can compel Lorenzo to let you see your son." He said, his voice is always gentle and soothing, it always helps me feel a little better.
"Will he be swayed by words?" I ask as I look at him filled with hesitations and hope.
He shrugs and said, "He's a father. I'm sure he would understand."
As I begin to write to my son, I could not help but think about my mother. The details may have been different but both of us write a letter to our children. With so much hope and love.
Night falls, thoughts still keeping me awake. As I look into my ring, I come to realize the answers to the questions I thought were unanswerable a few months ago. Especially about my feelings for Giuliano.
I was never confused, I have always been certain. I was clouded and now, I understand it clearly.
Funny how things sway us into feeling something we thought was simple and concrete. Knowing what I have to do, I get up and went towards the table where my letter for Lorenzo is laying open and dormant.
I removed the ring from my finger and place it inside the letter before sealing it. If he permits me or not, I hope he would at least allow my son to have something of me and Giuliano.
Mortality is what made our lives more significant. The moments shared become more precious as they turn into memories and the places where we've become something more than what it is.
Death comes without signs. Despite the gloominess it brings, it brings out something meaningful in the lives of those that are left behind.