Chapter 4 – First Night at Home
Elian placed Emma's car seat in the back of the old sedan, which barely started with a metallic roar. He hadn't driven this far without Aurora beside him in a long time, and her absence hit him at every traffic light.
Before turning on the engine, he turned to look at his daughter, making sure she was properly strapped in. Emma slept with her mouth slightly open, with that peacefulness only newborns possess.
"You know, little one?" he murmured, leaning in slightly. "I have no idea what I'm doing… but I promise no one will drive slower than I do today."
He gripped the steering wheel and pulled out of the parking lot with evident awkwardness. Every bump felt like a crater, and he took every turn so slowly a cyclist could have passed him.
"If you ever wonder why we're going so slow," he continued, talking as if she could hear him, "it's because the idea of something happening to you terrifies me. You're… all I have now."
For a moment, the silence in the car reminded him of another scene: Aurora, laughing while complaining about his driving.
"Could you stop braking so hard? I'm going to fly through the windshield!"
That memory made him smile, though it hurt at the same time.
The rest of the drive was in silence, as if each kilometer brought him closer not just to his home, but to the memories still waiting for him there. When he turned onto the street of the old building where he lived, his heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he wondered if he was ready to walk into a place so full of her laughter and yet so empty without her.
He parked carefully in front of the main door. He got out of the car, checked the car seat for the fifth time, and lifted it with clumsy but careful movements. He looked at Emma as she slept, with that untouchable peace, and thought about how much Aurora would've loved to see them together in that moment: him, so nervous, and his daughter, with that expression of absolute calm.
He climbed the building's steps feeling as if he were carrying the entire world in his arms. Each creaky step reminded him he was alone, but also that he had a reason to keep going.
The building wasn't anything special: peeling walls, a squeaky staircase, and a narrow hallway that smelled of old wood. Yet, as he turned the key in the door, a stab of nostalgia struck his chest.
The creak of the door—creeek—greeted him like an old friend as Elian entered carrying Emma's seat. The floorboards creaked under his sneakers, and for an instant, the apartment felt bigger and emptier than usual.
He placed the seat gently on the table and stood looking at her, sleeping, with those little hands clenched as if holding something invisible. He swallowed hard. He didn't know where to start, but at least he knew she was there.
"Welcome home, little one," he whispered.
He walked over to the crib he had assembled weeks ago, knocking lightly on one of the rails with his knuckles.
"See this?" he said softly, almost like speaking to himself. "Your mom and I put it together one whole night… well, she did more than I did, because I put it together backwards twice. She laughed so hard I thought she'd kick me out of the room."
He smiled wistfully, remembering Aurora's fragile laughter. He ran his hand over the knitted blanket her mother-in-law had sent, stroking the soft fibers.
"She chose this blanket. She wanted you to always have something of hers to feel safe."
He approached Emma, who stirred slightly in her sleep—mmm…—as if she had heard his voice.
"That onesie you're wearing… she picked it too. She said you'd look like a little cloud."
He sat on the couch, resting the seat on his lap. He looked at her in silence for a moment, searching for traces of Aurora in her tiny features.
"I don't know if I'll do this right," he admitted with a sigh, "but I'm going to try. For you. For her."
He lifted the seat slightly, looking at Emma face to face.
"This will be your new home, Emma. It's not the prettiest place in the world… but your mom and I prepared it with love."
Elian had barely finished those words when a sharp sound made him blink.
"Uaaah… uaaah… uaaah…"
He froze, as if an alarm had gone off in the living room.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying? Everything was fine two seconds ago!" he said, looking at Emma as if she could give him a clue.
He lifted her awkwardly, trying to remember everything they'd explained to him at the hospital.
"Okay… hunger, diaper, sleep… that's what they check, right?" he muttered, as if reading from an invisible manual.
He went to the kitchen with Emma in one arm and searched the hospital bag for the bottle. He tried to open the lid with one hand but ended up bumping it against the table edge.
"Ouch!… Okay, this isn't as easy as it looked."
The crying continued.
"Shhh… almost there, little one, almost there," he whispered, shaking the bottle. He tested the milk on his wrist, just like they'd shown him.
"Well, I think it's warm enough… hopefully," he added with a grimace.
He sat on the couch and offered the bottle. To his surprise, Emma stopped crying almost immediately. Elian sighed as if he'd just won a battle.
"Thank goodness… I was running out of ideas."
While she drank, he noticed a faint smell, not dramatic but strong enough to make him wrinkle his nose.
"… Was that what I think it was?" he asked, looking at her with a mix of surprise and resignation.
Emma glanced sideways at him, eyes barely open, as if she knew exactly what was coming.
"Okay, diaper. How hard can it be?" he said, though he already knew the answer was "a lot harder than it looks."
He spread a blanket on the couch, gently laid Emma down, and opened the first box of diapers he could find. The moment he removed the used one, he wrinkled his nose—not because of the smell, but anticipating what it would be like once she was older.
"Well… luckily you're still a baby. In a few months, this will be a nuclear bomb," he said with humor, trying to convince himself he had it under control.
It took several tries to get the new diaper on. First it was backwards, then too loose, then crooked.
"Now I get why your mom laughed when she said I'd be a disaster at this…" he sighed, finally fastening it properly.
Emma let out a little grunt and then a babble, as if she were satisfied.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh at me," said Elian, collapsing on the couch, exhausted but smiling.
Elian put Emma down to sleep in the crib and went to the kitchen. The midday sun poured through the window, illuminating the dust floating in the air like tiny golden specks. On the table, the paper with hospital notes seemed like a reminder that his life had completely changed:
"Feed every 3 hours. Check diaper. Keep her warm. Support the head."
He read it a couple of times.
"Three hours…" he murmured with a tired smile. "Well, I guess that means no nap today either."
He sat at the kitchen table, resting his arms on it. From there he could see the crib, with Emma barely moving her hands as she slept. That image calmed him. It felt like everything was in order, even if he had no idea what he was doing.
He sighed.
"I'm not the best at this… but I'll try," he said softly, as if speaking to Aurora, hoping she could hear him from somewhere.
For a moment, the house didn't feel so empty. Maybe it was because Emma was there, or because he could still see Aurora in every corner: in the blanket folded on the couch, in the crib they had built together, in the tiny clothes piled in a bag.
Elian stood up, grabbed a glass of water, and looked out the window. It was only midday, and he knew the rest of the day would be long: more crying, more diapers, more doubts. But something inside him told him that not everything would be so hard.
"We're going to be okay, Emma," he whispered with a small smile. "Somehow, we will."