The next morning, Rose and I went for a walk with her pets. The sun was just rising, casting a warm golden light over the landscape, and the air was fresh with the scent of dew and blooming flowers. Walking with her is calming. There's something about the way she moves, alert and attentive, always aware of her surroundings and her pets. I find comfort in her presence. If she were a guy, I might have felt differently about my feelings.
I sigh, wishing things were different. If only I swung that way. Unfortunately, I'm one of those people cursed to find only men attractive. I often find myself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, wishing I could open my heart to someone like Rose, but societal expectations and personal inclinations hold me back.
Months passed, and being at the base felt wonderful. I had settled into a routine that revolved around teaching the children and managing their activities. It gave me a sense of purpose. Whenever I returned, I always made time for the kids, knowing they were the heart of our community. The girls had been going in and out due to their missions, each one filled with a sense of duty and determination. Meanwhile, I was still waiting to hear about my new assignment after giving birth.
In our community, children are not just raised by their birth mothers but by the entire community. This shared responsibility helps forge strong bonds and ensures that every child grows up surrounded by love and support. Our strict laws are designed to protect this unity; our organization has been around too long to be ruined by stubborn, egotistical women who think they know it all. We learned from our past mistakes, and those lessons were etched into our very foundation.
As the weeks rolled by, anticipation built within me. It was time for me to give birth. I welcomed a boy and a girl into the world, naming the boy Sebastian and the girl Scarlett. The moment I laid eyes on their tiny, scrawny faces, tears filled my eyes. I was overwhelmed with love and protectiveness. I couldn't help but notice some of their father's features—Sebastian had inherited his nose, while Scarlett bore my traits. Thankfully, Scarlett had my eyes, which brought me a sense of relief amidst the chaos.
My mother and her sisters came to check on us, offering their blessings and support. However, I could see the concern etched on their faces regarding the boy. Males aren't allowed in the sanctuary. From my history classes, I learned that some mothers in the past had resorted to killing any boys born to the sisters. While this tradition hasn't been practiced in a long time—most sisters now live with the men chosen for them and raise their children as normal families—it was different for me. My situation was unique and fraught with tension.
I was not like the others; I would be the next Mother. I had to take charge, and I couldn't afford any weaknesses—especially not a man. It was ingrained in me that a male presence could undermine my authority and stability.
"Awww, they look adorable!" Tamara squealed as she rushed in, her voice filled with excitement. She was closely followed by Ife, who carried a clipboard. Her serious expression indicated she had just been reporting to Mother after helping me with the birth. I glanced at Ife anxiously, wondering what they had discussed regarding Sebastian. The thought of him being harmed sent a chill down my spine. I had made one of the gravest mistakes a breeder could make for the clan: I had gotten attached.
Ife took a deep breath, her gaze steady as she assessed the situation. Just then, Rose walked in, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air. Her pet cougar bounded in after her, barreling toward me to sniff the babies. Normally, this would have been a heartwarming moment, but I couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that loomed over us.
We all turned to Ife as she prepared to deliver the news that weighed heavily on my heart. I held my breath, bracing myself for the worst. Her words, when they came, felt like a heavy stone dropped into the still waters of my mind—news that could alter the trajectory of our world and our future as a community.
After a few tense moments, Ife finally spoke. "We need to discuss Sebastian's future. There are concerns about his presence in the sanctuary. We cannot afford to break tradition, and the council is wary."
Panic surged through me. "You can't be serious! He's my son. He deserves a chance, just like any other child. You know the laws are outdated!"
Ife looked pained but resolute. "I understand how you feel. But you must consider the implications. The council won't simply overlook the rules, no matter how much we want to change them. We have to find a way to protect him."
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as the weight of the situation settled over me. I had made one of the worst mistakes any breeder could make—getting attached to my son. The thought of losing him was unbearable. I couldn't let that happen.
~♤~
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I was discharged from the hospital. The experience had left me in shock. I went in with memories of my time with the Blackwood group and woke up years later, disoriented and lost. My grandfather was gone. Apparently, I had married, but my wife had died alongside our soon-to-be children. Those around me criticized her for being an unfit match, suggesting that if it weren't for my grandfather's insistence, I would have wed a more suitable woman who could bear me an heir. They claimed her death was fate intervening. I found that hard to believe.
I knew my family well. My parents and relatives would never speak highly of someone unless they stood to gain something from it; their disdain for my late wife implied she must have been a sensible person—young, yes, but deserving of respect. I glanced at my grandmother as they spoke, noticing she hadn't said anything positive about my late wife. It hurt to think that my wife, the mother of my children, had been dismissed so easily.
Determined to confront all of this, I decided to deal with the fallout of my hospitalization first. The issues that had arisen while I was away demanded my attention. I would not let my family's prejudices dictate the future of my children, especially Sebastian.
~♤~
In the days that followed, I engaged in discussions with the council, advocating for Sebastian's place in our community. I spoke passionately about the need for change, the importance of embracing our children regardless of gender. It was a long and arduous battle, but I knew I had to fight for my son and for the future I envisioned.
As I navigated this complex landscape, I found strength in my connections with those who shared my beliefs. Rose stood by my side, unwavering in her support, while Tamara and Ife worked tirelessly to rally others to our cause. Together, we began to build a movement, one rooted in compassion and a desire for a more inclusive future.
With each passing day, I grew more determined. Sebastian and Scarlett were not just names; they represented hope, a new beginning, and a chance to redefine our community's values. I refused to let outdated traditions dictate their lives.
As the council deliberated, I held my breath, waiting for their decision. The future of my children—and our community—depended on it.