Chasing Him (Dark Love 4)

My palms are sweating profusely, but Julian doesn’t let go. The room is dim, the worn-out curtains are barely shutting out the light. With every inch, every step closer, my heart is beating louder. I want to drop to my knees, my heart aching as I take in how dilapidated the room is. The air is thick and humid, and my breathing is out of sync.

This is not fair.

The world is not fair.

Life is not fair.

The bed is small made of rusted steel pillars. Dirty stained sheets are all I can see lying on top of the bed, but then, like the flick of a switch, my world and heart are turned upside-down in one split second.

I’m floating toward the bed, and Julian is squeezing my hand for dear life. My eyes can’t fathom what I see, the beauty and life which belongs to us.

My dad stands beside the bed with his bag open wide. He takes out the necessary instruments and does what he’s medically trained to do. Julian and I watch intently, every move, every reflex down to the expressions on my dad’s face. Is it concern? Is it worry? My stomach churns nervously as we wait for his conclusion.

It happens an hour later, the smile which brightens up the room, the hope and prayers that have been answered.

My voice is hoarse, and with a nervous tremble, I ask, “Is everything okay, Dad?”

He doesn’t say a word, carefully

placing his instruments in his bag. Once zipped, he focuses his attention back on the bed and carefully, he lifts and cradles her in his arms. “There are just a few little things, but nothing that concerns me too much. You have my full consent to take my granddaughter home.” He smiles, carefully rocking her in his arms.

I stare at her tiny face—she is perfect.

I turn to look at Julian, his wide smile reassures me that we’ve made the right decision.

She belongs in our family.

The moment I’ve been waiting for over the last twelve weeks has finally arrived, and without a thought, she is placed in my arms. The emotions finally take over, and the happy tears flow freely as I lean down and kiss her face. She is exceedingly small for her age, but I try not to focus on the negative because the overwhelming feeling of peace finally settles over me. Julian places his arms around me and bends down to kiss her hair. Even Julian struggles to hold back his own tears, and with that sight alone, I hand him our daughter.

There are no words for how content I feel as I watch him cradle our child for the first time. Without any hesitation, his love and acceptance make me more complete than I have ever felt, and for the first time in my life, I’ll admit that. I will not compare nor will I allow myself to feel guilty.

The day Julian came home from that South American trip with my dad, I knew something was terribly wrong. He was withdrawn, and when he explained the terrible situations he found himself in, I understood why he was traumatized and unable to get the image of this baby girl out of his head.

That night when Andy went to sleep, he showed me the videos, and my heart wept along with his. She’d been found beside the decomposing garbage in a worn-out part of town in the middle of the night under the pale moonlight.

A local had handed her over to the nuns, and without the proper care, she’d have only lived a few days. My dad just happened to be in the right place at the right time. He treated her injuries and illness giving her a chance to grow up to live a normal life. All she needed was a family to love her and treat her as their own. The moment I saw the man I love weep openly about this little girl, I knew that both our hearts were entirely in sync, and this was our daughter.

And today, she officially became a part of our family.

Julian whispers softly, careful not to wake her, “She’s perfect.”

“I know,” I respond with a smile, stroking her soft curls and running the tips of my fingers along her precious skin careful to memorize every groove, every bump, finally landing a delicate kiss to the tip of her nose. Everything feels so familiar like she is a part of me that I’ve been missing. My affection toward her surpasses my expectations, and my motherly instincts instantly kick in. Is she hungry? Is she wet?

“She is perfect, Julian, and I think it’s time to take her home.”

The paperwork is done, and with my dad’s medical approval, we thank the nuns at the orphanage. Just before we exit the building, the nun who took care of her reaches out and gestures the sign of the cross on her forehead, blessing her before we leave. I thank her kindly and head outside to get into the car.

It’s a three-hour drive back to the capital city and being organized, I have all the necessary items to feed and dress her. In the car, I continue to stare at her face, mesmerized and unable to turn away. She is beautiful with slightly tanned skin, dark brown hair, and her long luscious eyelashes flutter on her cheeks as she sleeps. Her features are small, but that’s to be expected at her age. We hit a bump in the road which causes her to stir. Both of us wait in anticipation as her eyes begin to open. My heart is racing as I wait for the moment when her eyes connect with ours, and the second they do, all my walls break down, and I’m an emotional mess.

Julian tries to comfort me, using his spare arm to pull me into his side. “Hey, she’s with us now.”

My sobs are loud, but my dad reassures me everything is going to be fine.

“You promise me they can’t take her?”

Through streaming tears, I stare into her eyes. She seems to be able to see me, moving her pupils when my smile becomes a joyous laugh.

“Adriana, everything is done, signed, and sealed. We’re taking her home. I promise you with all my life that no one can take her.”