The days passed without any altercation as if Darío and I were suddenly living in a bubble of love,
understanding, and affection. Weeks went by without even realizing it. We got used to getting up
together at dawn and making love as if for the first time; we loved each other every moment and
enjoyed each other’s company. I live in a paradise. I fell in love with my husband without intending or
looking for it. Then, one day I woke up and could not imagine a life without him by my side. Least of all
without Dante, that chubby, playful son that life bestowed upon me. He whines or laughs for me to carry
him.
However, not all is bliss in our paradise. Sometimes Darío becomes a desperate, frantic, and angry
man because getting used to the fact that he can no longer see, that he had to depend on us to help
him at all times, irritates him. Sometimes he forgets about manners, patience, and tolerance. He goes
so far as to throw in the towel and throw whatever he can get his hands on. He gets angry with himself
and with life for not being able to see.
As we sip morning coffee on the balcony, watching the sunrise, with Dante in my arms, I feel
excruciatingly nauseous. I get up from the rocking chair and hand the baby to Darío. We talk about
Dante, who is nearing his first birthday. We start planning what we want to do to him since a baby’s first
year is essential. I am captivated and crazy in love with my new family, and who would give anything to
see them happy, both my little boy and the man I love, keep creating perfect scenarios so that
everyone will be pleased, happy, and joyful to live under the same roof.
I start running at full speed and end up in the bathroom, with the toilet’s mouth receiving my every gag.
After a while, feeling that I have nothing more to expel, I get up from the floor and wash my face with
plenty of water. Then, I try to refresh the discomfort that has taken over my body.
“My love, are you okay?” I raise my head and find Darío standing in the door frame with Dante in his
arms, who looks at me curiously without understanding what is going on. “You got up so fast... Are you
feeling sick? Did you throw up?”
“I’m fine, honey.” I pour some more water and wash out my mouth to avoid the horrible taste I was left
with after throwing up.
“Are you sure? Do you want me to call a doctor? Would you rather we go to the hospital?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “No, love, don’t fuss with it. I’m sure it’s a virus.”
“A virus? You’re not pregnant, are you?” he asks, just what I was trying not to think about.
Yes, there’s a chance I am. To be frank, part of me rejoices at the thought, but the other... the rational,
logical part of me wonders if this is a good time for something like that. We have just settled our
differences and are beginning to trust each other. Darío has shared his ideas with me, he has told me
about his finances, he told me how he and Dawson had managed the family business for all these
years since his parents have not been with them. He said to me about Donatella and his childhood.
We’ve bonded in a way that I feel like a child now could feel like an invasion of our world.
And I blame myself for that. I hate myself for not wanting to think about it, at least not while our marital
relationship is barely welded. The iron is still hot and can be bent by any force majeure. I need to feel
that we are strong, that we are close enough and can handle anything. I want to have a family, and I
want it with Darío, with my husband. However, I don’t know if he wants the same. He already went
through something traumatic with Arianna’s pregnancy.
“I don’t think so, honey,” I sound hesitant, and that only causes Darío to calculate.
I know, I can tell by the way his brow furrows further, and slight wrinkles furrow his forehead.
“Tati...”
“Don’t say it,” I interrupt. “You shouldn’t have come with Dante in your arms from the balcony. You
could have fallen with him.” I change the subject and call it a day. I don’t want to talk about it.
I’m sure it’s just indigestion.
“I can walk that space without your help or anyone else’s,” he mumbles.
I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but I also can’t let him do that impulsively without thinking he
might fall or trip over any object or wall. Darío has learned to move around the house, mainly on the
second floor, since there is only a hallway, the bedrooms, and the balcony overlooking the garden, a
space that he knows perfectly and that this week we have made an effort so that he learns where each
of the furniture, columns, corners, and corner tables are, to avoid an accident and so that he feels
comfortable in his home, that he does not feel like an intruder or as useless, words that he used to refer
to how he felt days ago.
“Give me Dante.” I reach out my hands and place them on the baby’s back. “I love you. Don’t be a
grump.” I kiss him on the mouth, and his body reacts. He hugs me and squeezes me gently.
“Today, I long to have you all to myself,” he whispers, kissing me again and again.
“Ummm...”
When he kisses me, I can’t concentrate on anything else. His lips are addictive. His taste is my
downfall. I’d like to kiss him all day long, give us pleasure and caress every part of our bodies.
“If you don’t watch yourselves, you’ll end up making a little brother for Dante before you’re two months
married.”
I slowly pull away from my husband and glance with a smile at Dawson, who is at the foot of the stairs.
He watches us with amusement.
“You’re just jealous,” Darío states with a smile as well.
I see him happy, and that fills me with joy. He is smiling again. Despite the circumstances and his
blindness, Darío has smiled countless times. According to Donatella, he hadn’t smiled for months.
Since Arianna died, I can’t help but feel both delighted and proud.
“Jealous? You’ve left all the work to me. You’d better reinstate yourself quickly so I can have my own
life.”
“Do you already know when you’re leaving with Teresa?” I question. I grab Darío’s hand and point out
each step as I slowly walk down to meet Dawson. I have slowly grown accustomed to his relationship
with my sister. I don’t see him as strange or abusive anymore.
“Brother, may I have your wife for a couple of minutes?” he inquires as we face each other.
I shift Dante from one side of my hip to the other. He begins to get heavy for me and more so now that
he has started to walk. Slowly, but with a lot of desire to run. It is beautiful to see him grow and to be
able to take advantage of that opportunity to the fullest. His love is unconditional and without measure.
That little piece of flesh with eyes and a dark clump of hair loves me and shows it in every hug.
Darío tenses, and I know I must respond quickly. I want to avoid misunderstandings at all costs.
“What do you want with Tatiana? Why can’t you say it here?”
“It’s something to do with her sister,” Dawson replies, watching me with a frown and his arms crossed
over his broad chest, just like Darío’s.
“Whatever you want to tell me, you can tell me here with Darío. We have no secrets,” I communicate.
I place my free hand on Darío’s arm so he knows I’m not hiding anything.
Even though the past is somewhat settled, I know that the situation with both brothers is a bit difficult. I
understand that because I’m his wife and we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, it’s pretty
complicated. I know that for Darío, with his loss of vision and his insecurity in our relationship, must not
be easy for him to hear Dawson want to talk to me privately.
“As you wish.” He rolls his shoulders up, unconcerned.
“Who the hell is Lucian? Why is he harassing Teresa?” snaps Dawson.
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