The fifth week, Christabel smiled.
Not the fake smile she had been wearing. The one that was supposed to convince everyone she was fine. The one that didn't reach her eyes.
The real one.
The one that made Damien remember why he had fallen in love with her.
---
It happened on a Wednesday.
Lena had been fussy all morning. Not crying. Just fussy. The kind of fussy that meant she wanted to be held but didn't want to be touched. The kind of fussy that made Christabel want to pull her hair out.
Damien found her in the nursery.
Sitting on the floor.
Lena was on a blanket in front of her. Both of them were looking at each other.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm trying to make her laugh."
"How?"
"I don't know. I'm making faces."
She made a face.
Lena stared at her.
"That's not a funny face," Damien said.
"It's the only face I have."
"Make a different one."
She made a different face.
Lena stared.
"She's judging me," Christabel said.
"She's judging both of us."
"She has your eyes."
"She has your stubbornness."
"She hasn't done anything stubborn yet."
"She's been fussy for three hours. That's stubborn."
---
Christabel made another face.
This time, Lena smiled.
Not a gas smile. A real one.
"Oh my God," Christabel said. "Did you see that?"
"I saw it."
"She smiled at me."
"She smiled at your face."
"She smiled at me."
Christabel laughed.
The sound was loud. Genuine. Uncontrolled.
Damien felt something crack inside his chest.
"I missed that," he said.
"Missed what?"
"Your laugh."
---
That afternoon, Sarah came over.
She brought lunch. Real lunch. Sandwiches and salad and the kind of food that felt like a treat.
"You look better," Sarah said.
"I feel better."
"Not good. Better."
Christabel nodded.
"Better is enough for now."
Sarah sat on the couch.
Pulled Christabel down beside her.
"Talk to me."
"About what?"
"About how you're really doing."
---
Christabel was quiet for a moment.
The city hummed below them.
Lena slept in the nursery.
"I'm still scared," Christabel said finally.
"Of what?"
"Of everything. Of not being enough. Of failing her. Of losing myself."
"You haven't lost yourself."
"Then where am I?"
Sarah took her hand.
"You're right here. In this room. Talking to me. That's not nothing."
"It doesn't feel like something."
"It doesn't have to feel like something. It just has to be."
---
Damien walked into the living room.
Lena was in his arms. Awake. Alert.
"Someone wants her mother," he said.
Christabel stood.
Took Lena from him.
Held her daughter against her chest.
"Hi, baby," she said.
Lena cooed.
"Were you good for Daddy?"
Lena cooed again.
"Liar," Christabel said. "You were fussy all morning."
Lena smiled.
Christabel laughed.
Sarah watched from the couch.
"You're good at this," Sarah said.
"I'm terrible at this."
"You're still here."
"So are you."
"I'm sitting on the couch."
"You're watching. You're learning. You're being here."
Sarah smiled.
"That's all I know how to do."
---
That night, Damien made dinner.
Not breakfast. Dinner.
Pasta. Salad. Wine.
Christabel sat at the kitchen island.
Watched him cook.
"You're staring," she said.
"I'm admiring."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
She smiled.
The real one.
"I love you," she said.
"I know."
"I love you so much it terrifies me."
"Good." He walked to her. Kissed her forehead. "It should."
---
They ate at the table.
Not the island. The table. The one they never used.
Candles. Flowers. The kind of dinner that felt like a date.
"What's the occasion?" Christabel asked.
"No occasion."
"You set the table."
"I set the table."
"You lit candles."
"I lit candles."
"You're trying to seduce me."
He looked at her.
"Is it working?"
She laughed.
"Maybe."
---
After dinner, they sat on the couch.
Lena was asleep in the nursery. The monitor sat between them.
"I've been thinking," Damien said.
"About what?"
"About us. About the future. About what comes next."
"And?"
"And I want to take you somewhere."
"Where?"
"Verona."
She looked at him.
"Our city?"
"Our city."
"Why?"
"Because I want to remind you who you are."
---
She was quiet for a moment.
"I know who I am."
"Do you?"
"I'm a mother."
"You're more than that."
"I'm your wife."
"You're more than that."
"Then what am I?"
He took her hand.
"You're the woman who built a city. Who killed a man with her bare hands. Who survived things that would have destroyed anyone else."
"That was before."
"That was you." He touched her face. "You're still in there, Christabel. You're just... buried."
"Under what?"
"Under fear. Under exhaustion. Under the weight of being a new mother."
"And Verona will fix that?"
"Verona will remind you."
---
The next morning, they went to Verona.
Not for long. Just for the day.
Lena came with them. The nanny came too. Damien had arranged everything.
Christabel walked through the old town square.
The fountain was running. The trees were bare. The cobblestones were wet from the rain.
"It's different," she said.
"It's winter."
"I know."
"It'll be beautiful again in the spring."
She turned to look at him.
"You brought me here to see bare trees?"
"I brought you here to see the city. The trees are just... trees."
She laughed.
"You're ridiculous."
"I'm in love."
"Same thing."
---
They walked to the bench beneath the largest tree.
The same bench where they had sat so many times before.
Damien sat.
Christabel sat beside him.
Lena was with the nanny, walking through the square, looking at the fountain.
"I remember this place," Christabel said.
"I remember every moment."
"The day you proposed."
"The day you said yes."
"The day I left."
He was quiet.
"I remember that too."
---
She leaned her head on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry I left."
"You don't have to apologize."
"I know." She looked at him. "But I am anyway."
"Then I forgive you."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
She kissed him.
Softly.
"I love you," she said.
"I know."
"I love you in ways I didn't know I was capable of."
He touched her face.
"I know. Because I love you the same way."
---
They stayed in Verona until the sun set.
Then they went home.
The penthouse was dark. The city was bright.
Lena was asleep. The nanny had put her to bed.
Christabel stood in the doorway of the nursery.
Watched her daughter sleep.
"She's going to love Verona," Christabel said.
"When she's older."
"When she can walk."
"When she can run."
"When she can build her own city."
Damien put his arm around her.
"She's going to be just like you."
"God help the world."
"God help anyone who tries to hurt her."
---
That night, they made love.
Not the desperate kind. Not the hungry kind.
The kind that came from remembering.
Remembering who they were. Remembering what they had built. Remembering why they had fought so hard to stay together.
Afterward, they lay tangled together.
The city was dark.
The baby was asleep.
"I'm going to be okay," Christabel said.
"You already are."
"I'm going to be better."
"You're already better."
"I'm going to be myself again."
He looked at her.
"You never stopped being yourself. You just forgot."
"And now?"
"Now you're remembering."
---
She kissed him.
"I love you," she said.
"I know."
"I love you so much it terrifies me."
"Good." He kissed her forehead. "It should."