baran’s son calling trinity mom for the first time 🥹🥹
the first time it happens, they’re all so tired that baran’s pretty sure omid just got confused.
it’s usually her that carries him to bed if he falls asleep on the sofa so it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch if he confused trinity for her.
the second time, it’s said offhandedly enough that omid doesn’t even realise the bomb he’s just let off in the living room.
baran sees how trinity tenses over the stove, how her hands stop stirring for just a second before they go again, faster than before. omid wanders off to the bathroom and baran, sat on the sofa, bites her lip.
she’s about to say something, to dismiss it and ease the obvious sharpness in trinity’s shoulders, when trinity goes to pick up the pan and burns her hand. the discussion is lost under the running of the tap.
it’s a strange thing, shifting through grief. accepting that one person is staying where they are and that life goes on without them.
life without rosha had been stuck for a long time. the same routine, the same traditions, the same memories. baran, at first, hadn’t been able to let go of her.
not for herself, not for omid either.
she hadn’t wanted to leave that life behind, had wanted instead to keep everything as it was, for omid’s wellbeing, for her own heart’s sanity. she’d let the grief pull her dormant, hid her heart from the pain and kept it safe.
with trinity, she feels it. that old love, cracking through, splitting her open. and with it, she feels herself letting go of rosha.
it feels like losing her at first.
like forgetting.
but then she sees trinity curled up on the couch with omid’s head on her chest the same way rosha used to do with him as a baby, her fingers carding through his hair as she reads, and it doesn’t feel like forgetting, it feels like cherishing.
where she sees trinity, she sees a little part of rosha too, getting what she wanted in case anything happened to her. someone to look out for her son, someone to love her wife, everyone to be happy without her there.
baran knows trinity feels it, the uncertainty of stepping into someone else’s shoes, a dead woman’s shoes at that. she doesn’t know if it’s right, if it’s appropriate, if she’s allowed to.
the third time omid lets it out, trinity gets her answer.
he’s in his bedroom while baran and trinity are in the living room reading their books. the call is sharp and panicked down the hallway.
“mom!”
trinity’s up and out of the room before she can even realise what she’s stood up for, before baran even registers what’s going on.
she soothes whatever’s upset him, her arms firm but gentle around his tiny body, her voice calm and reassuring. she’s here, it’s okay, he’s being so brave. she stays there until he falls asleep, baran fondly watching through a crack in the door.
the discomfort returns the minute trinity’s outside the door again, wringing her wrists awkwardly when she pads back into the living room.
“sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I…I didn’t mean to overstep, I-“
baran shuts her up by kissing her, slow and soft and adoring.
“don’t apologise.”
“you’re his mom, baran.”
“mhm, and you are too. if you want to be.”
she can feel the uncertainty in trinity’s posture, can see her searching for it in her eyes, and she smiles, hopes it looks reassuring, understanding.
“you’re not replacing rosha, eshgham.”
“then what am i doing?”
“you’re being there for him. you take him to soccer practice, you pick him up from school, you kiss him when he’s hurt. that’s half of parenting, darling.”
trinity bites her lower lip. “oh yeah? what’s the other half?”
“that half you’ve already got down.”
“mm?”
“you love him.”
trinity looks down, her breathing a little shaky like she’s about to start crying. baran holds her close when she sniffs.
“trinity?”
“hm?”
“you don’t have to be, if you don’t want to. if it’s not what you want…I…I’m not forcing you.”
trinity presses her forehead into baran’s sternum, breaths against her, lets herself be supported.
“I do want it.” she whispers quietly against her heart. “i want to be there for him, when he needs someone. I…I want to be his mom.”
baran smiles, kisses her forehead, feels her heart swell and threaten to burst out of her chest. trinity looks up again.
“but…but I don’t want to replace your wife…I don’t want to push her out. I don’t want him to forget her.”
baran kisses her again, lets trinity wrap her arms around her waist.
“you won’t, baby.”
it’s only in a tiny promise that rosha’s memory feels lighter, feels like a flame carried forward than a stone sinking her to drown.
it’s only in the love that trinity holds for her son that baran feels life pick up and carry on again, rosha with them, always.