**12**
On our wedding night, I asked him to call me Elena. He jokingly asked, “Is Sister Mia warning me to cherish you properly?” Before I could answer, he leaned in.
“How could I not cherish someone as wonderful as Sister Mia? I’ll protect you fiercely, afraid of anyone coveting you.”
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He made me laugh, but I didn’t take his words to heart. Men’s words, they’re just for amusement.
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A year later, we had a clever daughter named Daisy.
I hadn’t thought I would get pregnant again, so I wasn’t careful. I hesitated about whether to terminate the pregnancy, and Noah squatted by the window, his eyes tearful as he looked at me. “Sister, c–can we keep her…?”
I touched my belly, lost in thought. “Okay.”
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Noah cried easily, but I’d never known a man could cry like that.
Giving birth to Caleb had damaged my body, and giving birth again felt like dancing on the edge of the grave.
I cried from the pain, and Noah on the side was wailing so loudly he looked like he might faint. When Daisy was born, Noah actually fainted.
Before passing out, he clung tightly to my hand. I smiled faintly, then passed out myself.
Because of this, Noah became famous throughout the maternity ward. Others joked about him, but he just scratched his head, his eyes still red, repeating endlessly, “Sister worked too hard.”
“I really feel for her.”
Three years passed in a blink, and my Daisy grew up adorable and precious, like a porcelain doll. Noah loved to document their father–daughter moments. He loved life, loved to record, always possessing a vitality I lacked. I let him be. But I never appeared in his videos.
Perhaps due to the lingering psychological shadow from Caleb, I wasn’t particularly attentive to Daisy at first. Noah never complained or spoke harshly.
He went to the nanny center himself to learn how to change diapers and burp a baby.
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Sometimes I felt I was wrong, why was I blaming my daughter for my son’s mistakes?
At those times, Noah would hug me and sway me. “Sister, you might just have postpartum depression, it’s okay.”
“If you don’t love Daisy right now, I will. It’s fine if you love her after this period passes. Daisy won’t remember anything before she’s three anyway.”
His words moved me, and I kissed him fiercely. But, do children really not remember anything before three? Does that mean Caleb had completely forgotten all the hardships I went through to raise him?
