7. Rayna

CHAPTER 7

Rayna

C all me crazy, but it's been rather nice having Janta around to lighten the load of my day to day.. Lily adores him. Granted, it took her a bit, but his demeanor doesn't exactly scream "overly affectionate, likeable person."

It was a sight the first time I saw big muscled Janta, in a business suit, holding a tiny little Lily, wrapped in a pink blanket, asleep on his chest. The sight itself did something to me, but we're going to chalk it up to me being overwhelmed at the emotion of the cuteness of the whole thing.

Change is a peculiar thing. It sneaks up on you quietly, almost imperceptibly, until one day, you realize your entire routine has shifted to accommodate someone new. That's how it's been with Janta.

I remember a time when his presence in the house felt like an intrusion, a disruption to the orchestrated rhythm of my life with Lily. But now, it's almost as if the walls themselves have expanded to welcome him.

In the mornings, he usually lets himself in, allowing me a few extra moments of sleep. I saunter to the kitchen, wiping the sleep from my eyes, and find Janta already in the kitchen, his large hands awkwardly handling the tiny spoons and bowls as he attempts to prepare Lily's breakfast.

The first few times, he was all thumbs, spilling milk and scattering cereal like a child left alone in the kitchen for the first time. But now, there's a smoothness to his movements, a confidence that wasn't there before. It's in these small, everyday moments that I've seen the changes not just in him, but in me.

I watch from the doorway, unnoticed, as he chats with Lily, telling her about his day ahead, even though she's too young to understand. His voice, once so stern and businesslike during our initial encounters, now holds a softness when he speaks to her. It's as if Lily has unraveled a part of him that was tightly wound, hidden beneath layers of corporate armor.

Sharing responsibilities with Janta has lightened my load, yes, but it has also filled a gap I hadn't realized was there. In the evenings, when he reads to Lily before bed, his voice a soothing baritone that dances gently around the nursery, I linger in the doorway longer, watching them. The sight of Lily's tiny hand clutching his finger—it tugs at something deep within me.

Perhaps it's the realization that Lily needs him as much as she needs me, or the acknowledgment that I do, too. This partnership in parenthood, once so daunting, now feels like a shared journey. We are two people, learning from each other, growing together, and somehow finding a rhythm that works for us all.

"Good morning, cutie!" I say in Lily's direction as I approach her to steal a kiss from her fat little cheeks.

"Good morning to you too," Janta replies gruffly with what I know now is his attempt at a smile.

I choke on the large swallow of orange juice I just consumed. Which leads me to spitting and sputtering out orange liquid all over the kitchen. Which Lily finds hilarious, I might add.

Janta jumps up and starts beating on my back. "Rayna, are you okay? Are you choking?"

I shake my head no and wave my hand in the air. I'm trying to signal that I'm fine, but I don't trust my ability to talk at the moment.

I finally get my composure, and wipe at my face covered in wet tears from my near death experience and orange juice from the geyser that was me.

"What was that about?" Janta asks. Did you not expect the pulp?"

I can't help but laugh. "No, the fact that you cracked a joke caught me so off guard I swallowed my own tongue."

He looks at me, confused. "You choked because you found it so bizarre that I made a joke?"

"Absolutely. You don't strike me as the class clown type."

He eyes me curiously. "What do I strike you as?"

Somehow I feel like this is a trick question. But that doesn't stop me from telling him the truth.

"Well, for starters, I think you're way too serious all the time. Seriously, you got to lighten up. Life doesn't always go by a schedule and you have to learn to roll with it. Let your hair down, have some fun. When is the last time you did something you enjoyed besides work?" I question while sitting and shoving a piece of toast in my mouth.

"Every day," he says while feeding Lily a spoon full of apples. "I enjoy hanging out with my daughter."

Well, if I'd had orange juice in my mouth, I would have choked again. Who is this man in my kitchen?

"And if you hadn't made the comment earlier about me being a party pooper, I might would have included you in that sentiment. But not a chance now," he says again with that half ass smile.

I take my hand and pretend to stab myself in the heart, acting wounded. The lightest laugh erupts from his chest and my heart does a flip-flop in my chest.

"Go wash off the blood from your beating heart. Lily's doctor's appointment is in an hour." His usual gruffness is very present, but there's a softness there too. The camaraderie we've been cultivating has seemingly taken a turn. What once seemed daunting had brought us to a place of comfort, I think as I run back upstairs and make a beeline for the shower.

My heart flutters as I explore the implications of our hanger and the ease of which it came. But I force down the thought before I can put it into words. He's her father, we have to get along. But I can't help but wonder if there were to be more to our dynamic.

As we walk into the pediatrician's office, Lily safely nestled in Janta's arms, I feel the significance of the moment deeply. It's more than just a routine check-up. It symbolizes the strides Janta and I have made as co-parents. My nerves are palpable, manifesting in my constant fidgeting with the diaper bag and my anxious scanning of the room, alert to every little sound.

Despite the anxiety that bubbles within me, Janta's outward calm provides a counterbalance. He's distracting Lily with a small toy, her attention caught by its bright colors, which gives me a moment of relief as I watch her play. Our exchange of understanding glances reinforces our teamwork, silently acknowledging each other's efforts and support.

When we're called in, I scrutinize every part of Lily's examination, standing by as the doctor checks her vital signs and development. Janta takes an active role, asking well-prepared questions that echo the research and care he has put into understanding what is best for Lily.

He has a small notebook out, which initially surprises me. He scribbles down notes rapidly after each of the doctor's answers, capturing everything important. It's more than just attentiveness. It is a meticulous dedication to getting everything right. I watch him struck by this transformation.

It's reassuring to hear the pediatrician's positive feedback, confirming that Lily is healthy and thriving. The shared sigh of relief between Janta and I feels like a victory, a moment of shared joy and pride that we are indeed managing well as parents.

As we exit the doctor's office, a quiet understanding hangs in the air. It's clear he isn't just going through the motions. He is fully invested in his role as Lily's father and my co-parent. This realization allows me to see him in a new light. The barriers I had unconsciously erected, based on our initial awkward interactions, are crumbling.

Once in the car, Janta suggests we take Lily for a walk in the nearby park. It's a beautiful day, the sun casting a warm, golden glow over the playgrounds and walking paths. Lily, exhausted from the morning's events, drifts off to sleep in her stroller moments after arriving, her tiny chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber.

We find a shaded bench away from the playful shouts and laughter of other families. As we sit down, a comforting silence envelops us, a stark contrast to the usual cacophony of our daily routines. It's in this quiet, watching other families interact, that the significance of our own efforts truly settle around us.

Sitting there, I glance at Janta, noticing the way his eyes follow a father twirling his daughter around in the air. There is a softness in his expression, a reflective gaze that I've come to recognize and respect.

We don't speak, but in that silence, a profound understanding passes between us. It's as if we both acknowledge the journey we've embarked on together, not just as co-parents, but as partners in shaping Lily's future.

The surrounding park is alive with the sounds of life and laughter, but our bench feels like a quiet bubble of introspection and connection. I find myself grateful for Janta's presence, his commitment, and the unexpected partnership we've formed.

His commanding presence is becoming one that I think I'm starting to rely on. The realization is startling as I glance over at him watching as Lily sleeps peacefully. My leg brushes his as I shift, noticing how closely we are sitting. He glances up at the touch and our eyes meet briefly, filling me with something I don't yet understand.

I flick my eyes away quickly, as something passes between us causing my heart to flutter in my chest.

As the afternoon shadows grow longer, I finally break the silence. "Thank you," I murmur, not just for the day, but for all the days he has stepped up, for all the ways he has shown up for Lily—and for me. Janta turns to me, a rare smile touching his lips, an echo of my gratitude in his eyes.

"We're doing alright, aren't we?" he replies, his confident voice low and reflective.

"We are," I affirm, feeling the weight of our shared path and the promises it holds. As we sit there, the world continuing around us, I feel a deep, reassuring peace settle in my heart. We are on this journey together, and somehow, that makes all the difference.