The ninth week, Christabel had a nightmare.
Not about Lena.
About herself.
About the woman she used to be.
And the woman she was afraid of becoming.
---
She woke gasping.
The sheets were tangled around her legs. Her heart was pounding. Her skin was slick with sweat.
Damien was awake instantly.
"Christabel."
She couldn't speak.
"Christabel, look at me."
She looked at him.
Her eyes were wild.
"I was there," she said.
"Where?"
"The basement. The white room. The drain in the floor."
His face went pale.
"What were you doing there?"
"I was watching." Her voice cracked. "I was watching myself. The old me. The one who killed. The one who wasn't afraid."
"And?"
"And I was smiling."
---
He pulled her into his arms.
Held her tight.
"It was a dream."
"It felt real."
"Dreams feel real."
"This one was different."
"How?"
She pulled back.
Looked at him.
"In the dream, I wanted to be her again. The old me. The dangerous one. The one who didn't need anyone."
"You don't need to be her."
"What if I do?"
"What if you don't?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"What if I've lost myself so completely that the only way to find myself is to go back?"
---
He touched her face.
"You haven't lost yourself."
"Then where am I?"
"You're here. In this bed. In this penthouse. In this life."
"This life isn't mine."
"It's ours."
"What if I don't want it to be?"
The words hung in the air.
Damien didn't speak.
Christabel looked away.
"I didn't mean that."
"Yes, you did."
"No."
"Yes." He took her hands. "You've been thinking about it. About leaving. About starting over. About being someone else."
"I don't want to be someone else."
"Then what do you want?"
She was quiet for a long moment.
"I want to feel like myself again."
---
The next morning, she called Dr. Reid.
"I need to see you."
"Today?"
"As soon as possible."
---
The drive to the therapist's office was quiet.
The city was gray. The rain was falling.
Dr. Reid was waiting.
"You look tired," she said.
"I am tired."
"More than tired?"
"I had a nightmare."
"Tell me about it."
---
Christabel told her.
The basement. The white room. The drain in the floor. The old version of herself, smiling as she watched.
"I wanted to be her," Christabel said. "In the dream. I wanted to be the woman who killed without hesitation. Who didn't need anyone. Who wasn't afraid."
"And now?"
"Now I don't know what I want."
---
Dr. Reid leaned forward.
"You've been through a lot. The birth. The colic. The sleep deprivation. The identity shift. It's normal to feel lost."
"I don't feel lost. I feel like I'm disappearing."
"You're not disappearing. You're changing."
"Into what?"
Dr. Reid smiled.
"Into a mother. Into a wife. Into someone who loves deeply enough to be terrified of losing herself."
"That's not comforting."
"It's not supposed to be comforting. It's supposed to be true."
---
The session lasted an hour.
Christabel talked about the dream. About the fear. About the woman she used to be and the woman she was afraid of becoming.
She talked about Damien. About the way he looked at her. About the way he didn't try to fix her.
She talked about Lena. About the way her daughter's smile could erase hours of exhaustion. About the way her daughter's cry could undo her completely.
"I love her so much," Christabel said. "I love her so much it terrifies me."
"That's normal."
"It doesn't feel normal."
"It never does."
---
When the session ended, Christabel drove home.
The rain had stopped. The sun was breaking through the clouds.
Damien was in the living room. Lena was in his arms. Both of them were looking out the window.
"How was it?" he asked.
"Hard."
"Did it help?"
"I don't know."
She walked to him.
Took Lena from his arms.
Held her daughter against her chest.
"I had a nightmare about who I used to be," she said.
Lena cooed.
"I'm scared that I'm going to lose her completely. The old me. The one who was dangerous."
Lena grabbed her finger.
Held on tight.
"But maybe that's okay," Christabel whispered. "Maybe I don't need to be her anymore. Maybe I just need to be someone new."
---
Damien put his arm around her.
"You're not losing yourself. You're becoming."
"Becoming what?"
"Becoming the woman you were always meant to be."
"And who's that?"
He kissed her forehead.
"You."
---
That night, Lena slept through the night.
The first time since she had been born.
Christabel woke at dawn.
Not panicked.
Peaceful.
She walked to the nursery.
Stood over the crib.
Lena was sleeping. Her tiny chest rose and fell. Her fingers were curled around the edge of her blanket.
"Thank you," Christabel whispered.
Lena didn't stir.
"Thank you for letting me sleep. Thank you for being patient with me. Thank you for making me a mother."
She touched the charm on her necklace.
You're yours first.
"Today," she said, "I'm going to try to remember that."
---
Damien found her in the kitchen.
Making breakfast.
Eggs. Toast. Coffee.
"You're cooking," he said.
"I'm trying."
"It smells good."
"It smells like breakfast."
He sat at the kitchen island.
Watched her move around the kitchen.
"You're staring," she said.
"I'm admiring."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
She set a plate in front of him.
"I love you," she said.
"I know."
"I love you even when I don't know who I am."
He took her hand.
"I love you because you don't know who you are. Because you're trying to figure it out. Because you're not giving up."
"I wanted to give up."
"But you didn't."
"I almost did."
"But you didn't."
---
She sat beside him.
Ate her breakfast.
Talked about the future.
Not the distant future. The near future. The next week. The next month. The next small step.
"I want to go back to work," she said. "Not just for a few hours. For real."
"Then go back."
"I want to be a good mother."
"You already are."
"I want to be a good wife."
"You already are."
"I want to be myself."
He touched her face.
"Then be yourself. Whoever that is. Today. Tomorrow. Every day."
---
Lena woke at noon.
Crying. Hungry.
Christabel went to her.
Lifted her from the crib.
"Hi, baby," she said.
Lena cried.
"I know," Christabel said. "You're hungry. You're wet. You're cold. I'm sorry. I was talking to Daddy."
Lena stopped crying.
Looked up at her mother.
"Bah," she said.
Christabel laughed.
"That's right," she said. "Bah.