I watch my husband putting the baby car seat in the black Porsche Cayenne as I lock the front door. It's the first time we leave the house as a family. It's the first time our daughter drives with us in a car. I didn't want her first trip to be to Dr. Wyatt. A psychiatrist. How life goes.

Krimov has the day off. I didn't want him to be driving us when we are en route as a family for the first time. I want this moment to belong to us as a family, though I am slowly starting to count Krimov as a friend. I'm getting used to him around us. He's a shadow when we need him to be. He can be a helping hand when we need him to. He's doing a very good job.

I walk over to the Porsche with the light leather interior. The dark pink baby car seat looks good in the car, I think as I watch Troy fastening the seatbelt around it. Adaline's sleeping in the car seat, wearing a white body. She looks peaceful; happy even. One of us has to sit next to her on the drive.

"I'll drive." I say, striking my hand out for him to hand me the keys to the Porsche.

He looks at me, understanding my fear right away. Sitting beside her and the chance of her crying… trying to calm her down… I'd rather drive. He reaches into the pocket of his beige trousers before he puts the key into the palm of my hands.

"I'll sit next to her then." there's a bit of disappointment in his voice. He doesn't even try to mask it.

I bite my lip. Maybe on the drive home, I can sit next to her. Maybe if the appointment with Dr. Wyatt goes well, I'm going to have the strength. Maybe…

I close the door for him before I get seated in the driver's seat. Adjusting the seat, the wheel and all the mirrors, I stop as I see my husband with my daughter sitting on the rear bench. His eyes are resting on our daughter. He looks so proud to be her father… he looks so full of love. Love I don't feel.

I turn on the engine and start navigating us through the London traffic. I feel more comfortable sitting behind the wheel than on the rear bench. The London traffic is chaotic and it can get crazy stressful, but that's nothing compared to that rear bench behind me.

I park the Porsche in front of an old white victorian house that holds Dr. Wyatt's office. It's a side road, which means the traffic is not as bad. I pull the key out of the ignition lock, press the button for the hand break and pull seatbelt out of the cap. I peek into the review mirror, seeing Troy's bright blue orbs. Adaline didn't wince once in the forty minute ride from Richmond to Chelsea. Yet I am all sweaty, but not from riding the Porsche, it was because I was so anxious Adaline would make a move. It's her that's a stress factor for me. But feeling stress is better than feeling nothing.

"We're here." I say to Troy and watch him opening the seatbelt that's surrounding the baby car seat.

I get out of the car and open the door of the rear bench on Adaline's side.I pick up the baby car seat with my daughter still sleeping inside in and watch Troy getting out of the car. He shuts both doors close and I lock the car before handing him the key. He puts the key back into the pocket of his trousers. He's wearing a white oxford shirt and dark pants. It's a rather casual outfit, but him wearing it makes it looks glamourous. I'm wearing black skinny pants, Louboutin heels and a white blouse. My hair is up in a chignon. We look good. We might not feel it, but we embody it.

"Let me carry her." he says and I give him the baby car seat. With his free hand he laces his fingers with mine. "Are you okay?" his question is almost a whisper as we walk the stairs up to the house.

"I am stressed." I answer as we stop in front of the black door. I open it and we get greeted by a soft comfortable scent that's lingering in the whole house. It's a fresh, earthy scent. It smells like the first rain. It's beautiful and helps her patients opening up. The reception area is empty just like the rest of her practice. Usually, Dr. Wyatt's practice is closed on Thursdays. Today's an exception.

I hold the door open for Troy and my daughter. With them behind me, we walk down the hall to her practice. It's the same room we had all of our appointments. There are french windows, showing the garden behind the house. A beautiful garden. The light beige walls, the beige couches, the dark parquet floors, the white bookshelves and fireplace. It looks familiar. Homely.

"Just on time." I hear Dr. Wyatt's voice and turn around as I see her rising from the glass desk. She combined modern furniture with the old fashioned house. She stops in front of me, shaking hands with me. I hear Troy's footsteps behind me. "Oh you brought the whole family." she smiles as she sees my husband and even more when she sees our newest family member. She knees down, her green eyes looking at our sleeping daughter. "So, that's Adaline Elizabeth Grace Bolton. She's a beauty already."

She's clearly a person who likes children. Being a mother of three, she should be. But then again, I am a mother as well. Yet, I fail at my own daughter.

Troy and me sit down on the couch. He places the carseat next to the couch before pulling the cotton blanket over the car seat, so the light doesn't wake her.

"We're a family. We'll get through this as a family." Troy says, getting comfortable on the couch.

"So, Gabriella talked to you." Dr. Wyatt says, picking up a pen and note block. I used to think it's weird she's not using any electronics, but now I like it. She's old schooled. And it has it's advantages when there's no digital form available.

"Yes. Two days ago."

"How did you feel?"

"I thought that after Swansea we'd turned a corner. And maybe we did, but we hit a brick wall anyway." he crosses his legs.

"A brick wall?" I ask him, hurt in my voice. I knew I made a mistake by keeping him in the dark for so long... but a brick wall - that hurts more than I thought.

His eyes meet mine and I can see the worry in his eyes and the guilt he feels. "Yes. Because I don't think we can demolish it so easily. You and me… there were so many sticks and stones in our path. So many obstacles. But this…" his lips form a thin line, "this is the hardest."

"We'll fucking destroy this brick wall." I mumble.

He nods, "It's why we're here."

"How are you feeling, Gabriella?" she says, putting the focus on me.

"I feel stressed." I breathe out smiling. "As I pulled the key out of the ignition lock, I realized that I feel stressed."

My husband looks at me, confused. "How can you be happy about it?"

"Because she feels." Dr. Wyatt explains neutrally. "Do you feel stressed because of driving the car or because of Adaline?"

"Because of Adaline." I say, smiling again.

Suddenly, the hands of my husbands wave. "How can you be happy about it?!"

I look at him, "Let me enlighten you: Adaline's ten days old now. Which means for ten days, every single time I looked at her I felt nothing. I didn't feel happy, I didn't feel like my heart would burst out of love, in fact there was no love at all. But now… now there's stress. I feel stress."

"Stress is not a positive emotion." he snorts.

"But it's an emotion. Don't you get it? I feel! I am finally able to feel." I say to him.

His blue orbs cloud and I know he's scared. He thinks I am developing negative emotions towards our daughter. Maybe I am.

"What are you thinking Troy?" Dr. Wyatt seems to notice his eyes as well.

He looks at her, "I thought…" his glance moves over to me, "I thought you'd turn into my mother. But turns out you're turning into Victoria."

I gulp, "That's exactly my fear."

"You're afraid you turn into your mother?" Dr. Wyatt asks me.

I look at her, "Yes."

"And this is why you are so happy about feeling stress."

I look at Troy, "Yes. Don't you understand? It means that I'm not turning into Victoria. I'm not going to be heartless."

He brushes through his hair, "You are not heartless and you know I think Victoria's not heartless as well…"

"Drop the subject." I warn him. This is not going to turn into a session all about Victoria.

Dr. Wyatt leans back in her armchair, "No, let's not drop the subject. I think you should discuss it out."

I look at her.

"Don't try to kill me with your glance, Gabriella. Your mother is something you guys rarely talk about. And now, as turning into your mother is your biggest fear, I think you should talk about it and therefore demolish this fear."

"Can I take antidepressant instead?" I ask her.

She shakes her head, "I'm treating my patients with my heart before I start giving them pills."

I let out a big sigh before letting my body fall into the couch again.

"Do you think the way your mother treated you is influencing the way you want to raise Adaline?"

"She taught me nothing. She showed me a person I never wanted to be. She showed me everything I want to avoid. We could never communicate, because she didn't speak my language. She didn't hear me."

I notice my husband's eyes on me and I tilt my head to the side. "It's the first time you talk about her." His voice is a whisper, full of amazement. I don't talk about Victoria in appointments because I don't think of her.

"She wanted to erase her past life and therefore me when we moved to Manhattan. She didn't want me to talk about what happened in public. She only allowed me to talk about it with a psychologist."

"But she gave you financial safety."

"That wasn't important to me then and it isn't now."

"Then why did you used to work such long hours?" Dr. Wyatt asks me, "Could it be that you are still running, still avoiding certain situations?"

"I have a home now. A person I can run to. I don't run now. I stay and fight."

"Do you think you this is what you're doing with your daughter now?"

"Neither am I running nor fighting. I am stuck."

"Has Victoria tried to contact you after Adaline's birth?" Dr. Wyatt asks me.

"No."

"Yes." my husband says, causing me to tilt my head to the side.

"What?!" I ask him shocked. "She... she called you?"

"After the news of Adaline's birth broke she called me. To congratulate us and ask how things are going."

My mouth drops open. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Why should I? It wouldn't have changed anything. It's not like you care." I watch Troy raising an eyebrow at me.

"What?" I ask him, shrugging.

He shakes his head. "You will never turn into Victoria." he says in a soft voice. I expected him to argue with me, but not this.

"Don't say that. You don't know that. You can't see the future, can you?!" I snap at him.

He leans forward, grabbing my hand. "You won't let anyone hurt Adaline. Your sense of safety is huge - at least considering others. Because you care. You care what she does, who she meets, who's with her… you care, Gabriella."

I bite my lip, "I might care but I don't love."

"You love, can't you see?" he asks me, brushing through my hair. "In your way, you love."

I shake my head, "I am not head over heels in love with her. I don't know what she wants when she cries. I don't know when I have to feed her or change her diapers or just have to engage with her."

"Gabriella..." he sighs.

"I am not the mother she deserves. I am... I don't feel. Emotionally she means nothing to me." I whisper the last part, hoping he won't hear me. When he doesn't react, I know he hasn't heard me. Nether the less it felt good to say it out loud.

"Okay," Dr. Wyatt says, putting her pen and notepad. "let me start by saying you are not suffering from a depression, Gabriella."

I look at her, "I'm not?"

"No." she says with a soft smile on her lips, "What's been making you feel this lack of emotions is fear."

"Fear?" I ask her, surprise on my face. "I'm not afraid of her." Or am I?

"It's not her you are afraid of. It's… it's the responsibility she embodies." Dr. Wyatt says slowly.

I frown. "I'm afraid of the responsibility?" I ask her back.

"Yes. You don't want to make the same mistakes." she nods, "To put it in your words: You are afraid of fucking her up the way your mother did with you."

"Oh that makes sense!" I breathe out.

"And to avoid this fear, you just stopped feeling towards her. Feeling anything at all. Which is why you felt no love, no anxiety, no joy… You only felt once. And that was when you fed her."

"You felt something when you breastfeed her?" Troy asks me.

I look at him, "I cried." I say with a shrug. "I was in pain. I cried because of the pain. Not because of her."

"You cry because she hurts you. The physical pain she made you feel was the only trigger Adaline was able to find to make you feel anything at all." Dr. Wyatt explains to me, "And now you are stressed."

"Yes."

"She's making you feel stress. But the stress doesn't come from her being in the same car with you. What's making you feel stress is the responsibility you have out of the sudden by sitting behind the wheel. By driving her."

Maybe I should have chosen to sit next to her in the car. Out of the sudden it seemed to be the better choice.

"She feels stressed because she's taking responsibility of her?" Troy asks, being more confused than me.

I look at him, "But I am taking responsibility, can't you see?" I'm taking responsibility!

"You're smiling." Dr. Wyatt says to me, smiling as well.

"Am I?" I ask her, amazed by my facial expression.

"Yes." Troy says, looking at me. "You are not depressed, my angel."

I shake my head, "No, I'm not." I agree with him.

"Nevertheless, I want you guys to take it slow. What's good is that you are starting to gravitate towards your daughter. Slowly and naturally. You gravitate towards taking care of her and letting her receive it. Adaline gives you love back, which you are starting to receive. You are slowly allowing her to get inside your heart. You'll get there." she promises me, "Take it step by step. Day by day. Moment by moment."

I nod, "Okay…" it sounds calming. "We're going in the right direction."

"Definitely." she smiles at me, "How's the meditation going for you both?"

"I'm calmer." Troy says as I feel him squeezing my hand. "I feel more balanced during the day. My thoughts are clearer, my actions well-thought-out and my feelings are sorted. I am not as stressed, I am more in the moment." He has been meditating for four months now. It used to be so weird to see him sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and eyes closed. But now... now I'm used to it.

She nods, "That's where I want you to get to. But that doesn't mean you can stop now. It's a constant work. You need to keep doing it, to keep staying at this stage."

He nods, understanding Dr. Wyatt for the first time during this appointment, I think.

"What about you?" she asks me.

I shrug, "I haven't noticed anything to be honest. I mean, it's so hard! Focussing on my breath, letting thoughts pass by and not reacting to them in any way… that's hard work! I thought meditation was just sitting there with crossed legs and closed eyes. But it's a lot of work! I was not prepared for that. I was not prepared for the crazy, chaotic mess that's in my head."

"Try sorting it out." Troy says to me, "It's not fun, but it's worth it. The clarity you get afterwards… it's worth it."

Just his look makes me want to continue doing it. If I ever see this clear… that's enough motivation for me. "Okay." I whisper back.

"How's life with a newborn beside this?"

Troy's eyes leave mine, "It's lovely and hard work. But we're doing alright. I mean, we have help if we want any. But I think we're doing a good job. We're doing the best we can right now."

"How are the nights?"

"Rough." I say to her. "We wake up every two to three hours. Usually, she's hungry or needs her diaper to be changed."

"Who wakes up at night?"

"We rotate." Troy says, "Sometimes it me, sometimes it's her. It depends on what Adaline needs."

I look at him, "You're a wonderful parent." he truly is.

His eyes soften as he looks at me, "You are too. In your way."

I want to protest, but I don't.

"I'm glad you talked to me about this. I never want you to suppress your feelings again." It's part of the reason that got us here.

I nod, "Me, too."

"What about intimacy?" Dr. Wyatt asks us. "I mean, I know you are a very sexual couple. Has that changed?"

"Sex… that's not on our minds." I answer for Troy and me. Truth to be told, I haven't felt attracted to him. And my husband's focus was on her and not me, which is fine. I understand him. I'd be the same. If only I felt anything.

"What about sports? Are you working out?" the shrink asks me.

I shake my head, "I'm not allowed to yet."

"Is it on your list?"

I can't wait until I can put on my running shoes again and go for my first run through Richmond park again, "Definitely."

"Good. An active lifestyle is important for you. For both of you. So, I have some homework for you." Dr. Wyatt starts, "Starting from the moment you leave this practice, I want you, Troy, to leave Gabriella and Adaline alone. For about 24 hours you are going to be an observant."

I feel a shiver going down my spine. I'm going to be alone with her. I don't like this idea. It's too soon. It's too fast. It's not a good idea.

He nods, "Okay."

Dr. Wyatt looks at me, "How does this make you feel?"

"More stressed." I say in a breath.

"Good. I think you just need a little push. You need some... forced motivation."

"I don't think I can handle her alone."

"You can and you will." She promises me. "Try to sleep when she sleeps. Adjust your schedule to her's not the other way around. It will make you feel less stressed."

I sigh, "Okay. I'll try."

"Excellent. We're going to talk about it in our next session."

"On Monday?" Troy asks her as we raise from the couch.

"Yes." she says, "I think we can keep our regular schedule."

I nod at her, shaking hands as Troy picks up the baby car seat. Adaline slept through the whole hour.

"Troy," Dr. Wyatt says, looking at the baby car seat, "I want Gabriella to carry the baby car seat."

Without a word my husband hands me the seat and I take it. It's lightweight, but it feels strange at the same time. I hope I don't bump against any furniture or doorframes.

"Any feelings?" she asks me after she shook hands with Troy.

"Worry." I mumble, looking at the carseat. The cotton blanket is still draped over the seat.

"Good." she says with a smile on her lips.

We follow Dr. Wyatt through the hallway of her practice and she holds the door open for me. Lifting my arm, I put first her through the door and then me. No bumps happened. It's a start. A positive, I might say. I walk to the car, trying to not let the baby car seat swing too much. I don't want to wake her up. I don't want her to cry. I don't know what I'd do then. Troy unlocks the black Porsche Cayenne and I open the door behind the driver's seat, about to put in the baby car seat.

"No. Put it on the passenger's seat." he says to me, stopping me. "I'll be sitting on the rear bench."

Observing. He's really going through with this. I feel my hands starting to sweat as I take the car key out of his hands.

"Okay." I say, opening the passenger seat before placing the car seat on it. I fasten her seatbelt and lift the cotton blanket to peek inside. She's happily sleeping. Hopefully for the whole ride. I slowly shut the door close and walk around the black Porsche. I open the door, sit down and fasten my seatbelt. I take a look in the review mirror and see my husband's looking at me. His blue eyes are filled with confidence. He thinks I can do this. I hope so as well. I start the engine and navigate us through the London traffic again.

I walk down the stairs to our kitchen, smelling cooking food. In my hand I'm holding the baby phone. It was tough to put her to sleep and maybe she's actually going to sleep longer than a few minutes this time. There's soft jazz music playing and I can hear my husband singing along with the music. It's been a while since I've heard him sing, but cooking has that effect on him. Cooking must've been his form of mediation before Dr. Wyatt even suggested it. I think the appointment with her today was helpful - more for him than for me. He seems calmer. Placing the baby phone on the kitchen island, I watch my husband opening the oven.

"You're just on time. I've made lasagne." he says, getting out the dish.

The smells makes my mouth watery. I didn't realize I was hungry, but I guess between entertaining, feeding and changing diapers I was too busy to think about it. "It smells delicious. But shouldn't you be observing only?"

"Concerning you and Adaline. But I don't think it includes me taking care of you. No one can take that away from me." he puts lasagna on the plates.

I smile, "We're doing alright. I think."

"Good." He says picking up the plates. "Let's eat."

On my way into the dining room, I pick up the baby phone and two glasses filled with red wine. Knifes and forks are already on the table as well as candles, which are lit. There's a colorful salad in a bowl placed in the middle of the table.

"You made quite an effort there, Mr. Bolton." I point out as I place his glass in front of the plates. "Candles… red wine?" I ask, holding up my wine glass.

He smiles at me, "You deserve a night off. Besides, you've pumped down enough milk so I don't think alcohol will do any harm. I want you to feel comfortable."

I sit down across him, "Alcohol doesn't make me feel comfortable. You do."

He places his hand on mine, "Good."

I smile as I feel the warmth of his hand on mine, "Good." I echo before he withdraws his hand and we start eating. Just like every time he cooks, he cooks with love. Lots of love… and flavor. I feel the spices exploding in my mouth, creating a symphony I didn't think was possible. What I do with music… he does with cooking. It's delicious and goes straight into my heart. "The lasagna is really good." I say, taking a sip of the red wine. I let the red liquid glide down my throat, it's been so long since I last had any wine. It feels like eternity.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier about what was going on with you?" it's like he completely ignored my compliment.

I gulp down the food, staring at blue orbs. "Because I felt ashamed." I answer, picking up more food.

"There's no need to feel ashamed." his eyes are soft, his lips form a thin line.

I take another sip of the red wine. So, this is why we're drinking wine. He wants me to talk.

"We could have gone through this together." he whispers as I look up.

"We are going through this together now." I say back, biting my lip.

"You should have told me."

"I told you."

"Eight days later."

I shrug, "Better later then never, right?"

"Don't joke." his voice is strict and I feel chills going down my spine.

I lean back in my chair, "I did what I did. I won't apologize for it."
He puts the fork and the knife on the plate before wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I'm not asking for an apology."

"Then what do you want from me?!" I hiss at him, surprised by the turn this evening is taking.

"You're excluding me."

My mouth falls open, "I'm what?!"

"You're excluding me." he repeats, his eyes focussing mine.

"I am not excluding you. We're married, we have a newborn, we live together… I love you." I start arguing. I didn't realize I've hurt him so badly.

"Then what happened to we're in this together? What happened to your shit is mine? What happened to this? Tell me! Why are you pushing me away?"

I get up from the chair, "I'm no longer listening to you." I shake my head. This is ridiculous. I'm not going to defend my decision again. I will not let him judge me again.

He raises from his chair, stoping across me. "I'm trying to understand you."

I gulp as his eyes make me feel his pain again.

"Help me." he whispers, his hand holding mine.

I withdraw my hand, "No, you are not trying to understand. You are judging me. You are blaming me. You are blaming us. But this has nothing to do with you. It has nothing to do with us. This is about me. About me and my non-existing feelings for our daughter. You don't get to turn tables on me." I feel anger building inside of me. I don't want to fight, but he's giving me no choice. "You think it's me making the same mistake over and over and over again. Well, I am not. Because unlike the last time I kept something from you, this time it has nothing to do with you. Nothing. It's not your feelings that are not existing it's mine."

"This is as much of a problem of mine as it is your's. And I should have seen it. I should have seen you changing."

"No you shouldn't. You are no longer here to hover over me 24/7. You have a daughter to look out for. We have a daughter to look out for. This isn't your fault as much as it is mine. It is what it is." I say, fondling his cheek. "It is what it is and you need to deal with it."

"I hate this."

"I hate that, too." I say into his eyes, "But fighting over it won't make it go away. As much as blaming each other will. I'm in this and I am in this alone. There's nothing you can do to help me. I need to go through this alone, which is why I struggled with telling you. If there's nothing you can do, why should you know about it?"

"Because I am your husband and I am by your side no matter what." he says back, "Because I care about you as much as you care about me. Maybe more. Because I have your back no matter what you decide. Because you are the pulse to my heartbeat. Because I promised that you will have me until my last breath, which I proved more than once. Because we promised to not have secrets from one another. Because we vowed…" he stops, licking his lips before his eyes look up at mine again, "Because we love each other."

I feel my heart falling to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces. Suddenly, my perspective seems stupid and wrong. Maybe he was right. Maybe I've excluded him. "I don't know what to say." I breathe out, having tears in my eyes.

"Promise me this won't happen again." his fingers fondle my cheek, "Promise to be open towards me, even if it's hard. Promise to let me in and never exclude me from anything. No matter how unimportant it seems to be towards you. Let me love you the way you're suppose to."

I gulp, feeling overwhelmed by his words, his look and his love for me. Jesus, I don't deserve a man like him. Yet I have him until his last breath. I nod because words fail me before I kiss him softly, "I promise."

I sit down in the rocking chair, my eyes focused on the white moses basket in which my daughter is sleeping in. She's fast sleep. Finally. It's about half past eight in the morning and I can see the sun starting to rise as pink strikes of lights start filling her room. I yawn and stretch my arms out. It was a rough night. I woke up every hour, feeding her or changing her diapers. And then there was this one time when she just didn't want to go to sleep again. I rocked her in the armchair, but that didn't help. So, I started walking around with her. Down the hallway, down the stairs, through the kitchen and living area. I talked to her. Like Troy has done so many times. I promised her I'd get better. I promised her we'd develop a relationship. I promised her I won't screw her up the way Victoria did. I promised. So, I have to keep my promise. Having a newborn is a lot of work. It requires strength, I don't seem to have.

"Hey," I hear my husband's deep voice saying.

I look away from the moses basket and straight into his bright blue orbs. He's wearing a simple v-cut shirt and pajama pants. He's standing in the doorframe, simply being breathtaking.

"Good morning." I say with a smile on my lips. "Did we wake you?"

He shakes his head before walking over to me. "No. 24 hours are over." he knees down in front of me. I grin, he hasn't been on his knees for a while now. But I gasp as I feel his fingers brushing through my hair.

"You should get some sleep." his voices is soft, his eyes are mesmerizing. I probably look as bad as I feel. "I take her from here." I pull his fingers out of my hair and lace mine with his.

I kiss his knuckles, "Thank you for not asking how I feel." I say, rising from the rocking chair. I can hear her moving in her bed. Hopefully she doesn't wake up. But of course she does. I watch Troy getting out of his shirt before he lifts her out of the moses basket. She moves a little and makes some noise but calms down as she feels the warmth of her father's upper body. He lays her down, her head resting on his heartbeat. Within seconds she's back to sleep while he's rocking in the chair. Why didn't I think of this? It's so simple… yet so effective.

"Go." he whispers to me with a smile on his lips. He's enjoying every second he gets to spend with her. To him it doesn't matter if she cries, smiles or sleeps. Every second is precious.

I reflect his smile, feeling peace for the first time in the last eleven days. She's safe with him and I can finally get some sleep. The sleep I badly need.

A new chapter! I hope you liked it. Please review!

Xoxo