The woman dropped back against the pillow in exhaustion, her dirty blonde hair damp with sweat. Her breathing was labored, short and desperate inhales as if she'd been holding her breath underwater for too long. Still, she managed a proud, loving smile. She held two bundles wrapped in pink, fuzzy blankets. Two beautiful baby girls.
A doctor breezed in loudly, clipboard in hand. His name tag was pinned to his bleached white lab-coat and read, "Dr. Lezinsky." He glanced at her over the clipboard as he scribbled down a few notes.
"Miss Abbot, I'm going to have to let the nurses-" he began to say, but he froze. As if somebody had pushed pause on a remote control, time seemed to freeze the steady sounds of the dripping faucet and her heart monitor.
"They cannot stay together." The woman's eyes flickered to the entrance as he walked in, all crinkles and sad smiles. She closed them for a brief moment; she knew why he was here. They'd been through this and knew it was for everyone's own good. It still seemed like she was making the biggest sacrifice of them all. She hadn't even been holding them that long.
"Why?" she asked, hoping the answer would be different.
"You know why."
"No, I mean why now? Can't I have time with them…?" Her voice trailed off as he shook his head. "Maybe they won't be dangerous. Maybe-" she tried again. He held up his hand to silence her.
"Serene, you know there is no avoiding this. If you spend time with them, when it comes time to separate them, it will hurt even more. It's best to separate them now, my dear. For their own safety and everyone else's," the man said gently. She hadn't thought it'd be this hard; this must be a mother's love for her children.
"What should we name them?" she whispered, her brown eyes changing in the light. He'd miss those eyes oh so much. Serene hugged her two girls to her chest and peeked at them. One had a head of blond hair and a little cowlick. The perfect name came to her.
"Aria."
"It's beautiful," he smiled sadly. He drew something out of his pocket, allowing it to dangle from his fingertips. It was a necklace, breathtaking and delicate. A light-blue, almost white, spiral seashell shimmered, the dim hospital lights dancing off it as it slowly rotated on the fine silver chain. An intricate cursive "A" was inscribed in the center of the spiral. He fastened it around the unnamed child's neck, where it glowed faintly from the briefest moment.
"Her name will be entirely up to you, Serene." One last smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and he was gone. The weight of his thumb still on her cheek, meant to catch the tears threatening to spill. Half a second passed before she registered and she held only one child in her arms. The beeping of the heart monitor came first and the rest of the room came back to life.
"This isn't forever. The day will come when they become so powerful, they are drawn together and there will be no stopping it.
"-the nurses have to overlook your baby girl. I assure you its standard hospital procedure and to assure she's healthy," Dr. Lezinsky informed her, offering her a reassuring smile. He clicked his pen in conclusion and tucked it into his coat pocket neatly and turned on his heel. A heavyset nurse bustled in, noisily bumping into the trash can.
"Whoopsie!" she exclaimed and she swooped the child out of her mother's arms. Ear-piercing, distraught wails echoed through hospital hallways. Serene's eyes followed the nurse as she left the room.
"Maam, have you thought of a name for that beautiful baby girl of yours?" a different nurse's voice cut into her thoughts. She nodded absentmindedly, opening her mouth to tell them what name would be on her daughter's birth certificate.