“Our son has your eyes.” but he (Kolya) means it 😭
married life sentence starters (accepting)
for @bluvdisc
she’s tired. she’s always tired these days, though truth be told, she was tired long before the baby arrived. it’s something that feels like her default setting so she ought to be used to it, but familiarity hasn’t bred acceptance.
she has only been awake for about thirty minutes. middle of the day nap, a staple now. the baby lies beside her, fists kneading the air. kolya must have settled him there after gently waking her from the nap she’d promised would be just an hour but had turned into four, apparently. she can’t decide if that’s a triumph or a failure.
kolya eventually reappears with a water bottle and passes it over without a word, because he became the hydration police months ago and he takes the role seriously. the mattress dips and he stretches out on the other side of their son, propping himself on an elbow. his gaze shifts to the baby, maria moves to set the water bottle on the nightstand - but kolya’s eyes flick to her and she lifts it to her lips obediently. "i’m drinking. i’m drinking."
she hasn’t been able to escape that cursed bottle of water for months. she loves him for it. she hates him for it. it’s nuanced.
she takes a couple sips. puts the object out of view.
her index finger moves to map the baby boy’s light eyebrows. it still amazes her that he spent nine months inside her body, that she managed to bring him into the world at all. none of it feels entirely real. there’s a lot of things that haven’t quite fully sunk in yet. she's not sure if they ever will. sometimes she half expects to wake up and discover it was all a dream.
“Our son has your eyes.”
maria snorts. their son flicks his gaze to her face (blue eyes meet her dark brown ones) then tries to capture her index finger with his first. she lets him and marvels at the grip of his small fingers as her chest does the ridiculous melt-and-tighten thing it’s been doing since she first laid eyes on him. "you dad is afflicted with defective rods and cones, and a tragic sense of humor." she kisses his small fist, skin so impossibly soft. "we’ll ignore him for now."
