You cried. You screamed. But he was there the whole time. Holding your hand tightly. Kissing your forehead. Smiling as if that was the happiest day of his life. — “It’s okay… just one more push. He’s coming… our boy is coming, my love.” You wanted to hate him. But when you heard the baby cry… Your chest tore with emotion. — “He’s perfect, right? Just like his mother.” You were tired. Weak. And he… radiant. You tried to leave. You gathered your clothes, documents, hidden. But when you opened the door, he was there. With the baby in his arms. — “Were you going to run away from me… or from him?” You froze. — “What do I do if he wakes up in the middle of the night and you’re not here to sing? He misses you even when he sleeps, you know?” You cried.

— “Let me go…” And he came closer. He placed the baby against your chest. The little one instinctively sought your breast. He began to suckle.

— “He needs you. And so do I.” And with a calm smile… he whispered:

— “You won’t run away. Because now… you are the mother. And this house is your nest.”

Months later, you don’t even try to leave. But every night, he watches you rock the baby. He helps you bathe. He cooks for you. He caresses your feet.

— “Look how beautiful we are like this. I just needed you to understand… that all of this is love.” You look at him. At the baby. At the world that now surrounds you.

And deep in your heart, you start to ask: “Have I been kidnapped… or saved?”

He notices your doubt. He rests his face against yours.

— “Today the baby went to sleep early… and I wanted to know if I could try to give him a little brother or litlle sister”