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Birth and life. Sickness and death. All part and parcel in their daily line of work, yet, for near two decades and counting, it still never does get any easier.
“Just a little more,” he ducks beneath the surgical drape to look at how far along the baby is. He can see the head now. “You’re almost there. Deep breaths, yes, that’s right—you’re doing a great job,” he coaxes the mother. Her breathing is heavy and pained, stifled slightly by her sobbing in between the space of her labour. Her hands grasping onto the sheets, tight fisted bundles.
Levi looks over at Sasha – now a chief resident in obgyn – who springs into action immediately at the mere downward incline of his head, returning his nod and walking closer to his side with her gloved hands up. Historia remains where she is at the head of the bed, leaning down to take a hold of the hand of the mother; a nod and her hand squeezing in time with the mother’s bearing down and pushing as instructed by Levi.
“Give me one more strong push—” Levi calls out once more, a conscious effort to keep his voice calm and low. He reaches out to rotate the little one, allowing one shoulder to emerge before the other. Another pained cry from the mother and the baby fully passes through. “The baby is out now.”
Levi supports its head in his palm. The little one is moving, though its eyes are screwed shut and the pallor of its skin is a slight purple-grey.
Carefully, he swaddles the baby in a sterilised sheet, cradles the baby slightly in his arms before passing it over to Sasha standing beside him. The baby is settled into the infant warmer; cleaned, mouth and nose suctioned out and the umbilical cord cut.
His fingers get to work immediately, delivering the afterbirth then deftly putting stitches in place. Through it, he feels an ache in his heart, but he’s sure it is nothing, paled in comparison to the grief that the mother lying on the delivery bed must feel. The little one made light squeaking noises as Historia gently brings it over to the mother’s side.
It is a lethal case of anencephaly; twenty minutes in and a hushed silence falls over the entire room. Only the mother’s sobs audible and growing louder in volume; the only tell-tale sign of the little one’s passing. She is brave, declining the option to terminate her pregnancy, wanting to deliver her baby and to at least be able to hold it for one time. Professional as Levi may be and accustomed to all sorts of complex and heart wrenching cases, he could never. Never imagine possessing the inner strength to make such a decision.
**
The door slides open, and the hallway of the delivery ward greets him; too warm and too loud. He takes off his surgical cap and shrugs and rolls his shoulders to ease the tension in them. It is days like this that he sometimes thinks a little more of Hange and their children. He thinks of them, always, but just that bit more when a patient or case is a little tough or instances where things cut a little too close to home. Moments like these where for a brief instance, really slim and uncharacteristic, he wonders and thinks about religion. That maybe a sign of a cross or a prayer whispered under breath would aid in the lifting of the unseen burden and sorrow.
When Hange delivered and went through such a horrendous blood loss the first time, Levi had gone through the same desperate cycle. A hand clutched in his fist when Professor Onyankopon had kicked him out from the delivery room and all he could do was sit on the hospital floor with his back to the wall. The sounds of moaning and screaming from the other delivery rooms, but, frightening silence from the door of Hange’s. Bargaining with whoever and whatever that was out there, for Hange and their child to be alright; to not have to face the reality of loss, or, terrible decision of choosing.
It feels surreal to Levi, even today. How he wakes up in bed warm and never alone. How he’s living in a house filled with loud chatter and laughter. Sometimes, the mess drives him mad, inevitable as it is with Hange and also the matter of having two little critters under the ages of 10. The days when he is faced with toys scattered all over the house and somehow in the soil of their flower beds, hardly anything in the pantry or refrigerator coupled with two hungry, crying kids and Hange stuck in traffic on the way home from the hospital. All too much, but also not enough. He may grumble through it all, but each mess, scribble on the wall, toy flung across the room in a childish tantrum, is proof that this is the life he lived and lives.
He’s about to leave when he spots Mike at the entrance of the obsterics ward.
Mike is in his outside clothes, either on his way out or to another gruelling shift in the emergency department. Mike lifts his head from where he’d been conversing with Gunther, catching Levi’s eyes. He lifts a hand, tapping on his watch and makes a mock refine gesture of lifting a tea cup to his lips, with his pinkie finger sticking out. Levi nods just slightly to assent to Mike’s invitation, but not without a tiny roll of his eyes.
He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the staff break room. Mike gives him a thumbs up and pushes off the nurses’ station, leaving the obstetrics ward.
**
The smell of tea wafts up to his nostrils, stirring him from his brief shut eye.
“You’ve been here since 6?” Mike asks, glancing at the clock then at Levi’s undoubtedly haggard face. Levi nods back, having no strength to even make another sound. The blonde man lowers himself onto the seat beside Levi, arm extending and coming to a rest at the back of the couch. Levi feels the slight tickle of Mike’s fingers at the back of his head. He casts a warning look at the corner of his eyes. Mike obviously never learns his lesson; one last tickle to the back of Levi’s neck before he takes his arm away.
Levi pushes himself into an upright position, gratefully accepting the paper cup of tea from Mike. He lifts the paper cup to his lips, sips on it lightly, the bitter notes of the cheap staff café brew doing the bare minimum in keeping his eyes from drooping completely closed. The liquid swishing around his mouth, weak but hot, still a balm to his senses after the day he’s had.
“Sheesh. I think you need this more than I do.” Mike offers the other half of his sandwich to him. Levi shakes his head, refusing the offer.
Mike shrugs and returns the half into the container haphazardly perched on his lap. “Nana gave Hange and the kids a lift home earlier.”
“Thanks, Hange did call to tell me,” Levi says, tilting his head slightly to show his thanks to Mike. “Her car’s still in the repair shop.”
He’d taken a cab this morning to spare him from crashing his car into a lamp post after getting barely any sleep the previous night, leaving Hange a little stranded when she’d had to pick up the kids from daycare after her own shift at the hospital.
Mike eyes him for a minute or two before speaking.
“Tough delivery today?” Mike asks, after another munch of his sandwich.
“Mhm,” Levi answers, eyes down gazing into his half-drained cup of tea. He absentmindedly swirls the contents of the cup around before he continues. “Anencephaly,” he finally says.
Mike blows out a breath, then doesn’t say anything else after that. A hand lifted in the air, one which Levi eyes but doesn’t move or open his mouth to refute. Mike brings it down to lightly pat on his shoulder. The hand remains there for a brief moment, warm and heavy. A squeeze and then it’s gone.
They both sit there, the only sound being the ticking of the clock in the break room and Mike’s less than refined chewing. What would normally be grating to Levi’s ears, instead serves as a reprieve to him. The sounds of people, things, life generally still happening around him, no matter how mundane or perhaps even annoying. A sigh escapes him and he slumps into the back of his seat, finally submitting to the wild and delirious exhaustion that’s been taunting at him since walking into the hospital at 5.30 in the morning.
His silent companion takes it as an invitation again. The untouched half of Mike’s sandwich is waved in front of Levi’s eyes. “Come on,” Mike says.
Levi accepts it this time, taking a decently substantial bite of it – to shut Mike up but also plainly, because he needs it, having had nothing to eat since stepping foot into the ward this morning.
The door opens just then and Erwin’s head pops up from the corner of it. “Ah, there you are. Tea and sandwiches and no invite for me?”
“Get your own,” Mike calls out, stuffing the rest of his half into his mouth. “I thought you left for the day already, what are you still doing here?”
Levi extends the half in hand towards Erwin.
“Nah, already ate.” Erwin shakes his head and moves to settle down on the other side of Levi. “Moblit told me you were still in. So how’s it been so far, settling into a full schedule after so long?”
It’s been a little hard, but not because of the gruelling hours. Mostly because Levi’s not used to spending so much time apart from his children. But they are both old enough and Hange had started to cut back on her own hours. Through many a late night conversation, anxieties and concerns whispered to each other in the dark, both Hange and he deciding that it was time for him to go back to work fully now after working just part time hours and being chiefly in charge of caring for their children at home.
“Takes a little getting used to,” Levi answers briefly.
Erwin gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure. I bumped into Nana and Hange earlier. Need a lift back? I’ll drive you,” he says, a hand casually reaching out towards Mike’s cup of coffee.
18 hours since he’s first stepped foot into the hospital, now being the first time Levi feels the tension bleed out from his bones while he sits there with Erwin serenely enjoying Mike’s cup of coffee and Mike cursing loudly to himself as he tries to rub away a splotch of ketchup on his white shirt.
**
The sound of her phone ringing halts Hange’s movements; hand on the doorknob, in the middle of opening it. She transfers the bags of groceries onto one arm, balancing it on her hip while she roots around in her pockets, trying to locate the ringing thing.
She tries again, now with one foot in past the threshold of the front door, grumbling lightly as the ringing persists. With an eye on the half opened front door, she reconsiders her initial plan to take the call once she’s slipped into the house. As slowly and silently as she can, she slips out of the house once more before swiping on the green call button, using her shoulder to press the phone up against her ear.
“Jean, is everything alright?” she asks, readjusting the balance of the bags on her side. She can hear the dull but distinctive bustle of the hospital in the background, over at Jean’s side of the call.
“Yes, Prof, everything is good, don’t worry. I just wanted to give you a little update about Mr. Henning, the one we performed the tumour biopsy on, yesterday morning? I’ve checked on him again. His pupil size is normal now, thought his left-side motor function is still low. His condition has stabilised, and I believe he’ll regain consciousness soon.”
“That’s good news indeed. Thanks for calling to let me know, Jean. Is there anything else?”
“No, sorry, Prof. I didn’t mean to disturb you on a Saturday morning. But I just thought you’d like to know.”
“You do know that I trust you, right?” she says, hearing Jean’s sheepish laughter in response to her statement. “And not a worry at all, you weren’t bothering me, I really am glad to know that Mr. Henning is doing well. By the way, if I recalled correctly, you will be leaving tonight for that medical conference in Marley?”
“Yes.”
“Then go get some rest now, since you’ve checked on Mr. Henning already. Also, will you do me a favour and say hello to Armin and Annie for me when you’re there?”
“Sure thing, Prof.”
“Thanks again, Jean, I’ll see on Wednesday, alright.”
“Yes, I’ll see you then. Enjoy your weekend, Prof!”
Hange half stumbles past the front door with the heavy groceries balanced precariously in her arms. She turns back to make sure that she’s locked the door, slipping her shoes off before entering the living room. Doing it all with the conscious effort to remain as quiet as possible, egged on by the soft quiet of the space she just entered.
The living room is pristine as expected, not a trace or any sign that anyone had even been in there. Not even a speck of dust or rubbish or even children’s toys left lying on the floor. Even the decorative pillows and flannel blankets are all arranged neatly on the sofa.
The only sign that the space is lived in, is the familiar warm, clean, and comforting smell of the living space, and the slightly weathered walls that has fading scribbles of stick mans, birds, trees and flowers drawn onto the bottom surface of it. Hange smiles to herself as she removes her jacket and hangs it up, eyeing the childish drawings as she did so. Nanaba had forewarned both Levi and her, that it is never a good sign when a child (or children) wanders off to some part in the house and goes quiet for longer than a minute, so it was really both their mistake for not heeding their blonde-haired friend’s words back then.
Ironically, for all his fastidiousness, it was Levi who had made a strong case against cleaning Abigail’s scribbles away. Abigail, had been four then and was far too excited to break out the new set of colour pencils and crayons that her favourite Auntie Pieck had gifted to her. Her little hands stained with the bright colours of the various shades she had happily scrawled across the lower half of the wall. But the naughty little imp of a child had tried to convince Levi that it was her little brother’s fault. Hansel, who had been merely sitting down beside Abigail; thumb in his mouth and his other arm clutching tight against his little body, his favourite fluffy parrot plushie courtesy of Uncle Moblit. Hansel, hands completely spotless, always a quiet, complicit partner to his elder sister’s plotting and scheming.
Levi, always a tender-hearted fool who frequently gives in to both their children whims more often than Hange is happy for, had actually scolded Abigail for trying to lie and evade responsibility. But the girl had only burst into tears, refusing to listen to her beloved daddy, who was suddenly being stern and fierce with her. Hange had sat down both their little ones down and explained to them that it was not a nice thing to do and to lie about it too. Abigail had remained hard-headed till the end of Hange’s firm but even toned scoldings, while Hansel had climbed into Hange’s lap, a strong grip on her ponytail, whispering a ‘sorry’ to her. Still, late that night, Abigail had dragged little Hansel along, climbing over Levi and Hange, settling in the middle of them both, taking both their hands in her smaller ones, and mumbled an apology making sure to look them both in the eye as she did.
Just as she places the bags of groceries on the kitchen counter, Hange hears a little voice shout out. A dull panic thunders through her chest, once again, Nanaba’s child rearing advice rattling at the back of her head, like the hollow clang of something foreboding.
She had crawled out of bed earlier, before the sun rose, dropping Levi a quick kiss and letting him know she was going to drop by the grocery store, so she knew the kids were not left alone. However, Levi had also crawled into their bed past midnight. Perhaps he was still deeply asleep while their little mischievous critters were roaming freely somewhere in the house, and getting up to no good, if not getting themselves hurt with whatever schemes they’d cooked up early in the day.
Hange hurries upstairs in search of the sound. Peeking into Hansel’s room first before moving off in the direction of Abigail’s.
She pants in relief when she comes upon the two of them (or in fact three), reading a book together in Abigail’s bed. Both the little ones are unharmed, only messy bed heads and eyes crusted with sleep. The third person, lying on his side, fast asleep, a hand loosely holding on to another book that he must have been reading to them just this morning when he left their bedroom and dropped by the kids bedroom to check on them. Dead to the world, even with their wriggly youngest child lying stretched out across his legs.
“Shitty glasses!” Hansel calls out to her once he spots her standing by the doorway, a sweet, toothy smile on him despite the unexpected less than polite greeting he’d just given to her.
Hange stifles a laugh at little Hansel’s face; the slight severe look on it incongruous to his soft and round face. Though the brightness in his brown eyes gives a hint that the young boy isn’t that unaffected by emotions and feelings as with any spirited child. He may have taken after her looks but if there was any wonder what it was like to have a mini Levi, or, at least how a child-sized Levi would have behaved, it was all solved for her and everyone else in their lives. Their second born was a little brunette Levi, as reserved and reticent as his father. Hansel had said his first word far later than most kids his age leading Levi and her to pay far too many anxious visits to the paediatrician, wondering, if there was anything of concern with him. But it turned out that their little one was just like his daddy, who just did not like to say a word if he could help it. Always preferring to sit by and quietly observe.
She watches on, as Hansel scrambles off Levi’s legs, leaping off the end of his sister’s bed. The little patter of his little feet as he runs up to Hange, soft thuds on the hardwood floors of Abigail’s bedroom. He reaches her, colliding into her legs, holding out his arms to Hange. Hange picks him up, planting a noisy, wet kiss to his cheek before carrying him over to where Abigail still sat in bed.
“Shhhh, Hansy, daddy is sleeping!” Abigail admonishes her brother, with a stern look on her face.
Hansel presses a finger to his lips, mimicking his sister. “Shhhh, Shhhh.”
Pleased with Hansel’s quickness in listening to her, she turns to greet Hange. “Morning, mummy.”
“Good morning, my sweet little baby.” Hange settles carefully to avoid jostling Levi, folding her lanky frame into Abigail’s bed, curling around the little girl and settling Hansel in her lap. She brushes away the fine, dark hair sticking to Abigail’s face, nuzzling against the soft cheeks of her little girl who giggles back.
Hange gazes down at Levi, still fast asleep. Not a hitch in his breath or twitch of any of his limbs. Chest rising and falling peacefully, with his head buried in Abigail’s sunny yellow pillowcase. A purple hair clip, that their cheeky little girl must have slipped onto him, holding back one side of his hair. They’d both left for work yesterday morning, but only Hange had returned earlier in the day to pick their kids up from daycare, while Levi was held back by multiple emergency deliveries. He’d crawled home well past midnight, mumbling unintelligible nonsense into Hange’s hair and against her skin as he reached for her, snuggling close before he drifted off to sleep.
“Since daddy is still asleep, shall the three of us have breakfast together?” She combs her fingers through her daughter’s hair and presses a kiss to her cheek, while Hansel keeps up with his quiet observation of Hange and his hand holding on to her ponytail.
“Yes, we shouldn’t disturb daddy. Daddy went in to work yesterday and only came home at midnight.” Abigail says with such a dour tone that Hange could only guess is an imitation of Levi’s. The words, also paired with a miniature disapproving scowl on the little girl’s sweet face.
Bending her neck to press another kiss to Abigail’s cheek, Hange wraps her arm a little more tighter to hug the girl closer to her chest, then buries her nose into Hansel’s soft hair. Breathing in the soft, innocent scent of his.
She is still a little tired from her own work day yesterday and rushing about to pick up the children from daycare and getting them settled for dinner and bedtime, without Levi’s help, followed by crawling out of bed this morning to do some emergency grocery replenishing. Hange could not deny that there is always going to be that boundless energy and need within her, compelling her to constantly be on the move, busy with surgeries and patients and always hungry to take in more knowledge within her field. But coming back to their warm house and being able to have precious moments like this; hugging her children close to her chest, with a snoozing and softly snoring Levi lying down beside her, is something she wouldn’t trade for the world.
**
She sheds her outside clothes in favour for her home attire, the scent of the detergent that Levi likes to buy clung to the fabric; familiar, comforting.
Hange never stops enjoying the thrill and everything that comes along with her hospital work, but being so close to the edge of 50, she has since learnt to slow down and take it easy. Enjoying each day of chaos and peace in the household with a fussy, neat freak and two little children who are an interesting mish mash of Levi and her personalities and mannerisms.
Settling into her sort of weekend routine, Hange cracks open the windows of the living room and the door to their backyard, letting in the fresh morning air into the house. The roses and gardenias that Kuchel and her mother come over regularly to help tend to, blooming brilliantly, their sweet scent wafting all the way into the kitchen. A kettle on boil on the stove, in preparation for some tea for herself and the man who is still curled and fast asleep in the child-sized bed upstairs.
Abigail enters the kitchen, with Hansel trailing after her.
“Daddy lets us have cookies for breakfast.” Abigail declares, her eldest child, ever an opportunist. Sharp, grey eyes shining, calculating. The sharpness of her eyes, softened by her long, dark lashes and smooth, unlined skin.
“Cookies, you mean these?” Hange holds up and shakes the bag of wholegrain biscuits at Abigail. “The oat and raisins biscuits that daddy likes to eat after he goes for his run?” Hange asks, with a quirked brow. Abigail visibly deflates at her thwarted attempts of conning Hange for a sweet treat so early into the day. Hange can only shake her head at the cheeky little girl, though if she wants to be honest with herself, it might very well be a trait of hers that Abigail has picked up.
“What I can give you, are pancakes. Would you like your blueberries in them, or on the side?” Hange offers, stroking the little girl’s head as she wraps an arm around Hange’s legs; still with a tiny pout on her lips.
“Inside please, mummy,” Abigail replies with Hansel nodding along.
“Okay, and how are we feeling about oranges, today?”
“I don’t like them but,” Abigail says, a deep furrow between her brows as she considered the fruit held in Hange’s hand, “I’ll have some, mummy. Uncle Moblit said they help cuts and bruises heal much faster. I don’t like them still, but I’ll have some.”
“Okay, Gabi, can you help me to slice and peel it, and I’ll do the pancakes now.” Hange hands the fruit over to her. Abigail releases the grip she has on Hange’s legs, both her palms lift up to receive the orange from Hange.
Hange settles Hansel into a high chair next to Abigail, so that he can do what he loves to do; observe and taking in everything that happens around him. His sister clambers into a learning tower that Levi had built for her. Picking up and carefully angling the child-friendly knife on the centre of the orange with Hange’s help, slicing down on it slowly. She yelps and squeals when the juice of the orange shoots out with each pierce of the knife onto the surface of the skin.
“Did you know, mummy, they make ice cream from oranges?” Abigails says, switching the knife for her hands to peel back the skin of the oranges. “Me and Hansy, had some when we went over to Uncle Mike and Auntie Nana’s house to play with Cara.”
“I did not know that, was it sweet or was it sour?" Hange makes a scrunched up face to accompany her words, passing a dish cloth to Abigail for her to clean the sticky juice from her fingers.
“It was sweet and sour. If oranges,” Abigail lifts the meticulously peeled orange segments up to Hange, “tasted like the ice cream, then I might eat them every morning with my breakfast.”
“You would now, wouldn’t you.” Hange laughs and brushes her finger tip on her little girl’s nose.
Small but deft, careful hands arrange the sliced oranges on a plate. When she is done with that, Abigail shifts her attention to Hange cracking two eggs into a mixing bowl. Cooking, never really her forte for the longest time. But child-rearing while being working parents, and the wish to provide their children with nutritionally balanced food without resorting to ordering in, necessitated the picking up of that skill.
“Eggs, eggs are good for us too, mummy.” Abigail points a finger at the yolk that Hange is in the middle of breaking and whisking to blend it with the whites. “They help us build strong muscles.”
“Yes, you’re right, sweetheart,” Hange answers with a smile. “Did you learn that in school, or did Uncle Moblit tell you that?”
Abigail beams at her. “No, I read that in a book!”
**
The last pancake is ladled onto the waiting plates, and Hange moves to set the table. Watching with great amusement as Abigail bosses little Hansel around, tying the bib around his neck and issuing a firm warning to him to finish all the food on his plate or Abigail will not be taking him with her to go to the zoo later with their grandpapa and grandmamas.
Turning back to the kitchen counter to check on the tea leaves she’d left to steep in the pot, she hears a low groan and some creaking from upstairs. Another creak, another groan, then a loud bang closely followed by a shocked curse bursting from a person startled awake from banging their head or body parts against the bed frame of a seven year old child.
“Daddy said a bad word.” Abigail dutifully reports to Hange, her hands clasped over Hansel’s ears. “Use your fork, Hansy,” the girl lectures her younger brother who is enjoying his breakfast along with his tiny fist.
“I did not raise a tattler.” Levi walks into the kitchen, greeted by a chorus of noisy, high-pitched greetings. He drops soft kisses to the heads of their children; an affectionate tug on Abigail’s messy ponytail, a soft pinch to Hansel’s nose then extricating Hansel’s fist from his mouth and replacing it with a fork.
“Morning,” she murmurs as he strides up behind to hug her and kiss the side of her neck.
“Let me help,” Levi says in between another kiss pressed to her neck.
“Don’t need it. Go sit with the kids. Abigail misses you.”
“And how about you?” he teases, face devoid of any emotion but his eyes a twinkle of playfulness.
“I’ll let you know later.”
“Later, huh,” he whispers against her ear, a soft kiss pressed to her jaw and his arms tightening around her middle.
Hange bats him away from the kitchen counter, pushing him towards the dining area to join their kids.
She adds a plate of cut fruit in front of Abigail and Hansel, one which Levi pretends to steal from just to annoy the young ones. Levi accepts the hot cup of tea she holds out to him, making pleased little noises of gratitude with each sip he takes.
Hange nibbles on the ends of the apple cores, eating around the small bit of fruit while she watches as Levi keeps a close though unnoticed eye on Hansel as the boy chows down on the little grape halves, wiping on his chin when food spills out from his chewing mouth. Always a watchful eye, even if there isn’t any sign of danger for any of them.
“I’ll get them ready for our parents.” She kicks Levi’s foot lightly underneath the table, taking notice of his drooping eyelids in between his combing and tying up of Abigail’s hair again. Hange leans her elbows on the dining table, steepling her fingers under her chin, as she watches Levi slip the purple hair clip off his hair and clips it onto Abigail’s.
“Leave these." She points to the plates and cups on the dining table. "I’ll finish up here. Go back to sleep?”
Levi yawns, stretching out his arms above his head. Hange cannot help her eyes closing in on the strip of skin between his shirt hem and waistband of his sleep shorts. Eyes following the lines of his shoulders as he shifts left and right to crack his neck.
“You sure?” he asks, a foot returning the soft kick she had given to him earlier.
“Mhm.”
“Okay, I’ll keep them occupied for you, at least, while you clean up.”
Hange hums to herself, hands deep in the warm soapy dish water. The space lined with sounds of childish laughter and pure delight. Little feet running around the living room and into their backyard garden as Levi pretends to chase after them.
**
It is a battle in itself.
Getting two squirmy kids into the bath, helping them to wash; brush their teeth, rub them down with towels, and especially when her youngest has his odd quirks. Like today, when he suddenly decides to run off naked with his toothbrush lifted high and proud in the air like a gallant knight wielding his sword, as soon as she helps him out of his clothes.
There is a gentleness to it all despite the momentary dip into rowdy, circus like behaviour. The sloshing of the bath water as she swipes the wash cloth delicately over Abigail’s face, rinses it, then repeats the act on Hansel’s face. Plastic cups and plates floating in the bath water with Abigail and Hansel pretending to have a tea party with each other while Hange lathers shampoo into their hair.
Their two precious children, could not be any different than day and night.
Abigail is talkative throughout it all, through the soaping, the brushing of her teeth. Her endless sweet chattering, telling Hange all the things she wishes to do once she arrives at the zoo, all the animals she wants to see.
Even negotiating with Hange, how many ice creams she and her brother are allowed to have no matter how many their grandpapa is willing to buy them. And how she will return from the zoo with the full intention to prepare a write up and sketch for Levi and Hange to be able to partake in the joys of what Abigail is able to witness and observe at the zoo this time, what new creatures or critters of interest there are that she wants the both of them to know of too.
Hansel remains quiet and placid through it all. Voice piping up only to tell Hange if she’s missed out on rinsing one of his arm or washing his back, or that he thinks it is highly likely to rain later and that mummy should remember to pack their raincoats and rainboots. It really isn’t going to rain later, little Hansel just really enjoys wearing his green raincoat and matching rainboots, running around pretending to be a sort of superhero, where instead of a cape, he has a billowing raincoat floating behind him.
Her nimble fingers, with years of practice honed from fine suturing and tying techniques and surgical procedures, are put to good use, efficiently threading Abigail’s chosen ribbons into the braid that she asked Hange to do for her today. Hansel sits contently at the side of them, fiddling with the snow globe. The globe shaken to within an inch of its life; the white fluff within it floats, suspended in the viscous liquid for a few seconds, before it submits to a slow descent, flitting around the little cabin and fir trees.
Once the children are clean and presentable, Hange grapples, unsuccessfully, to keep them away from the bedroom where Levi is fast asleep. They jump on top of him, despite her best efforts to keep them from doing so. Scoldings on possible breaking of bones and bruises, ignored, in favour of kisses and hugs before their grandparents arrive to pick them up and whisk them away to a day at the zoo.
**
Kuchel waves at her, from the driver seat.
“Mummy, I will bring to you and daddy, pictures and my report, okay? You don’t have to worry about missing much. I will write about everything I see and even draw plenty of pictures,” Abigail says.
“I would love to see that.” Hange returns the hug that she receives, peppering noisy, wet kisses to Abigail’s cheek.
“Hansel, how many ice creams are you allowed?”
Hansel gives her an adorable smile, shows her his single index finger then looks between his sister and Hange. The little, quiet, conspiring glint in his brown eyes, unmissed by her, but Hange decides to let them have this sneaky moment. One that would no doubt be a funny story to share in future.
“You two have fun and behave, okay,” Hange kisses the words onto the cheeks of her children, helping them into Kuchel’s car, buckling them in before she closes the car door.
“Levi nodded off straight back to sleep right before you came,” she explains to Kuchel.
“Ah,” Kuchel nods in understanding, “You must be tired too, hurry back inside and back to bed!” Kuchel makes sweeping motions in the air towards Hange. “Your parents will be meeting us directly at the zoo. We were planning to keep the kids a little later today. I’ll drop them off after dinner so that Levi and you can have a proper rest today.” Kuchel gives Hange a wink before leaning in to kiss her on her cheek. “Away with you now, back to bed too. I’m sure you’re tired from your own week and day. I’ll see you and Levi later, alright?”
It is hardly near the time when they will leave Levi and her and set out on their own lives, but Hange feels something wistful tunnel its way into her chest. She sighs heavily as she watches Abigail and Hansel with their faces pressed up on the car window, waving goodbye to her.
**
Hange slips quietly into the room while Levi slept. Watching Levi asleep, Hange smiles to herself, her thumb rubbing along the metal band around her finger, sitting warm against her skin.
Soulmates.
It’s a funny concept that sometimes she takes and turns about in her head when she gets the most quiet time to herself. Free from work, free from screaming grabby kids; she loves her kids, she does, but it does and can get a little too much sometimes. And even Levi feels overwhelmed at times which makes her feel less like a horrible monster and more human and just like any other mother out there. This challenging thing of bringing up little humans, also stops them from losing their minds in the heat of the moment and trying for a third child. Though on Levi’s part, it is mostly how distraught he is whenever she reaches the most difficult throes of her pregnancy that stops him. Always a refusal to discuss even the possibility of a third, his face hardening and darkening in the most un-Levi way even if she tries to tease him about it.
When Hansel was conceived, Hange’s pregnancy was not much easier than when she had Abigail. Hard hit with double the nausea, tiredness, and general malaise. She’d lost days sometimes, unable to get out of bed or even eat. Levi had spent almost the entirety of her pregnancy in abject stress and anxiety. Swore that this was the last time he would allow this.
It isn’t so much as having someone who knows her but, more so someone who is willing to understand her and be with her through the happy and also the difficult moments in her life. Even through the most darkest days when she feels the most unlovable, or in the days when she doesn’t even love or know herself. Even as she silently struggles. A person can understand her perfectly, but it could very well just be that. Knowing and not doing anything beyond that. To have someone willing to stick by her, sink to the lowest depths of the earth and life and be right there with her clawing her way through dirt and stones; bleeding together with her. Someone who anticipates her needs and does something about it. Action and not just reaction. The assured safety and trust in the navigation of life, parenthood, job stress, together.
Levi was, and is, all that for her.
There were days when life seemed so difficult, impossible, and she wondered if it was well and truly worth it to have brought their two beautiful children into the world. What it would have been like if they chose instead to remain just as they were, just two, tucked away in their little apartment with no constant worry and tears and disagreements on whether they were doing enough to raise happy and healthy well adjusted children. Whether they were being selfish by making certain decisions, choosing between work and family.
And when such thoughts came, Hange hated herself and the pain and tiredness drew in and seemed to expand and occupy every single gap in her. How horrible it was for a mother to think that of her children, that she hoped she never said out loud such things even in passing or a fleeting moment.
Still, if ever asked, she would have done it all over again. Her only biggest regret being that she never started all of this with the dear man asleep in bed, way earlier; allowing them more time, more energy to give and do more for their children and perhaps even for each other.
Hange often wonders, even if she is sure that the love that she feels for him, resides well deep inside of her. How there is no clear beginning or end. How welded she feels to him. Day in day out, none of it passing by without the ability to think or function or fathom an existence without him.
Is it all just because, Levi, is someone who knows how to take care of others. How he frequently places himself beneath every one else, his own needs, wants and personal desires, all secondary. And all this had come to head when he first broached the topic of taking time off from work in the face of Hange’s first meltdown when she struggled to breastfeed Abigail.
He had returned home then to Hange sitting in their bedroom. Complete darkness, still in the same clothes that she was in when he first left for work in the early hours of the day. Sobbing not quite silently into Abigail’s soft, sweet-smelling hair. She had been on her maternity leave still while Levi’s two months of paternity had ended. Pregnancy was bad enough, and if Hange thought that was the worst of it, it wasn’t. Her body might have felt that it wasn’t hers during those 9 months, but the same thing was felt and much stronger when she held Abigail in her arms. How something as simple as her breasts were no longer hers. She leaked and cracked and bled, just from the mere act of trying to feed their child. She was sore all over, Hange felt miserable.
Her unkempt state was one thing, what made it all the more worst was her constant troubles and challenge with such a simple task such as feeding her own child. Said child, who had started to cry, the little whines on a steady crescendo to a piercing wail. Hange felt like bawling along with Abigail. Her little red face adding on to Hange’s own distress.
Once Hange managed to get Abigail to suckle and feed a little, the ache and leakiness not at all soothed, Hange settled into a dreamless, brief sleep. One which she woke from feeling equally exhausted as she was before her eyes had drooped shut. The clock on the wall telling her that a full three hour had passed, though it truly felt like mere seconds.
Her heart had picked up a little when she heard beeping sounds from the front door. In her loneliness and quiet despair, elated at the prospect of Levi returning back home.
Levi hadn’t turned on the light, simply walked up to her and knelt down in front of her. Gently lifting Abigail out of her arms, one hand supporting their little daughter’s body against his chest and his other, wiping her never ending tears flowing down her cheeks, talking in low tones to her till she snapped out of whatever she was lost in. He took care of their daughter then, attending to her needs before putting her to bed, then turned onto Hange to do the same.
Hange sobbed silently, feeling like an utter failure at this whole motherhood and parenthood thing. Levi, ever patient, ever understanding, hugged her silently till she calmed down.
That night, as they both laid in bed and Hange was wracked with tears and guilt and a helplessness she absolutely despised, Levi had raised the idea of taking on part time hours so that he could help her and also Hange could go back to work after her maternity leave. Her heart had squeezed painfully as Levi held her tightly to himself.
If she thought it was just a one off. The thrill and excitement from being a first time dad, she's proven wrong the second time she delivered. It wasn't any easier and the pregnancy proved harder just like the first time than the delivery. But Levi being how he was, made a world of a difference.
How gentle and sweet he had been with her. Helping her with her compression socks, when she embarrassingly could not clean herself up after her first attempt at using the toilet after her delivery. The times when she was half delirious in the early hours of the morning with a fussy baby and just sitting up in bed hurts, how Levi would wake up without any complains, silently shuffling over with their little one in his arms, even going as far as to ensure that their little girl or boy had latched on properly before he left them to it. How Levi would pick their crying baby up and strap them to his chest, carrying them around without breaking a sweat while he went about the household chores.
**
Levi stirs awake when she slides under the covers beside him.
“Four eyes?” he calls out to her.
“Tsk, if the kids heard you.”
“It’s not like I’m calling you something that shouldn’t be heard outside of the bedroom,” he says, the gravel of his voice in his half-awake state washing over her.
“You’re terrible.” She pinches his arm. “Your little boy just called me ‘shitty glasses’ this morning. Who knows what else he’s going to pick up from you next.”
“Well at least that than him leaving his socks lying around the house like someone I know,” he murmurs, hands reaching out for her.
She goes over to him, a palm planted on his side as he remains lying down, gazing up at her. Smiling down at him as she cups his cheek in her palm, wishing that he would shave lesser so she can feel the gritty stubble of his more often. She busies herself with running her fingers along his temples with their slight greying edges. It is extremely unfair how the greys blended in seamlessly into the black, how it made him all the more attractive, devastatingly so but Hange tries her best to not let the praise slip through her very often and be made known to Levi. It’s not that he possesses any inch of vanity within him, but, mostly how he seems to derive a lot of joy in knowing how to take her apart easily, and so, Hange sees fit to reduce the ammunition he can gather against her.
With that thought, she lifts a hand up and brings it down on his forehead. A smack, maybe not as light as she intended, one which sends Levi yelping and grabbing her by her waist.
“What the hell was that for?”
“Just because.”
He considers her for a moment. Grey eyes, still a little cloudy with sleep. “Did I forget to do something?”
Hange laughs. “No, that’s not it.”
His brow furrow. “You’re a very violent woman, you’re lucky I put up with you.”
“You put up with me?” she scoffs, “Mister each room in the house has to have their own dedicated cleaning cloth.”
“Okay, that’s true,” he concedes. Giving her the widest close mouthed smile that sends a swirling, swooping feeling in her middle. His hand lifts and slides her hair tie off, shifting to push her hair behind her ears. “Did you sleep well last night?”
“Mhm."
“Did you eat,” he asks, fingers adjusting her wrinkled collar, “from the time you picked up the kids yesterday and before going to bed?”
“Mhm.”
“How many meals and what?” His eyes narrow and he tugs lightly on her ear lobe.
“Hmm, well...”
“If it’s just the protein bar crap again, I swear to God, shitty glasses. Even Gabi and Hansel, eat better than you.”
“As they should, their daddy cooks really well and packs them wonderful lunches.”
He rolls his eyes at her words. “Not so wonderful if their mother won’t even eat much or listen to him.”
“Maybe he isn’t working hard enough to discipline her.”
“Is that right?” he says, eyes growing darker.
She shrugs her shoulders playfully, leaning down to brush her nose against his. Just as he leans up to press his lips against hers, she straightens up, leaning away from him. She’s stopped by a loud disgruntled sound and his arm winding around her waist. The light crinkle of something, stops him from pulling her back down onto him. Levi surveys the bed, trying to place the source of the sound.
“Did you bring chocolate to bed?” An unamused look is aimed her way. The frown on him, an interesting contrast to his still sleepy eyes. The greys still sleep-soft but now a little more alert, likely ready to lecture Hange about potential crumbs on their bed.
“I brought them to share.” She reveals the packet to him, settling into a cross-legged position beside him, her back to the headboard. “If you want some, you better get it now or there’ll be none left soon.” She crams a handful of the chocolate pieces into her mouth just to prove her point, but mostly to annoy him.
Levi doesn’t say another word, merely reaches a hand out, slipping it into the packet and coming up with just one piece. She looks at him, a question in her eyes if that’s all he is really going to take. It is after all a guilty pleasure of theirs, a hidden chocolate stash from their two little ones, something that they couldn’t easily enjoy if the children are around.
Before she can even blink, Levi takes the packet from her, depositing it swiftly to a corner of their bed. He pops the single chocolate piece into his mouth, sits up and with a hand at the back of her neck, pulls her towards him.
Though it comes as a total surprise to her, Hange doesn’t need any further urging. She melts into the kiss, Levi’s lips touching hers in the most fleeting and softest of kisses. His hands cradling her jaw, palms enveloping her in warmth, his thumbs light brushes against her cheeks. He takes his time with her, keeping it with just his lips even as he pulls her onto his lap. Hands lightly kneading the back of her neck then drifting down her back. She sighs, as his hands travels under and up her shirt, pressing closer to his mouth, willing him to dip and brush his tongue against hers. Needing it against hers. She starts to pant into his mouth, even with the both of them fully clothed and his hands chaste on her back. Still, he takes his time, leisurely pushing the soft, melting chocolate piece between his mouth and hers till it dissolves into nothing.
“That’s pretty good chocolate,” he murmurs against her lips before pulling away from her.
Her hands clutch the front of his shirt, half with frustration and half with wanting to just touch any part of him. Despite the years past, the heat and desire between them, never did dull, only growing in intensity.
Levi angles his neck up again, his lips a little firmer and insistent on hers. Hands light touches and strokes to her lower belly. Fingers lingering especially on the pale silver marks streaked across her skin. She shudders at his touch and he pauses.
“Okay?” he asks, pulling back from her slightly, eyes searching hers.
“Yes, yes, you can touch me there.” She places her hand on top of his, guiding it back to her lower belly.
His fingers resume their caressing of her skin. Tracing the vines and lines, dipping lower slowly to her front, the heart of her, before skittering away back to her abdomen. She shifts, planting her legs at his side to straddle him. He rests his palm flat on her belly, his other cupping the back of her neck to bring her closer to him. His lips capture hers in a slow kiss, tongue a slow exploration of her. His soft breathing stark against the hardness of him pressed into her parted legs. She feels him harden considerably more when she leans into the kiss even without her moving her hips against his, feels the hand on her lower belly press more firmly into her.
Levi’s hands drift across her skin, undressing her. Once he has divested her of all her clothing and nudges her to lie on her back, his hands run over her stretchmarks again. Hange pulls impatiently on his hands, raising her arms to reach for him again when he sits on his knees to slide off his shirt. He chuckles, leaning over her, a tease as he plants a hand at the side of her head. The other pushing off his bottoms.
She doesn’t need to say it, he knows that she wants to be close to him.
Swiftly and without any pause, he gets rid of the last scrap of clothing on him, pulls her up to sit on his lap. She hugs him close, easing him between her legs, slow rocking of her hips against his. With his nose tucked into her neck, hot mouthing at her skin, his low barely contained groans, Hange feels herself already reaching her climax. Gentle, like waves cresting and undulating within and above her.
The time spent loving each other is more often tenderly fervent. Quiet, with there being two very dear children in the house now. On the days when she wants it harder, she’ll push him to lie back and climb on top of him. But today. Today, she decides to let him be. His careful, gentle, loving touches that still sufficiently brings her pleasure. A soft, intimate, soul shuddering one.
When she comes down from her high, her eyes fluttering open, Levi rests his forehead against hers, nose kissing the tip of hers. His eyes, clear and light, with a warmth reserved just for her.
**
“We delivered a baby with anencephaly today,” Levi says, once they are both on their backs, the covers tucked around them.
Hange scoots closer to Levi. Wrapping her arms around him in a gesture of comfort.
She remains quiet, just her hands stroking Levi’s arms lightly.
“She could have gotten an abortion at anytime, but she didn’t want to,” Levi explains, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. He swallows and sniffs lightly. “She wanted to hold her baby for at least once, you know.”
At his words, Hange tightens her arms around him. Levi brings a hand to rest on her forearm lying across his chest. He squeezes once before turning to face her.
“I’m alright now,” he says. “Really,” he adds when he sees Hange eye him. Her brown eyes sweeping over his face, warm and a light sheen to them.
“Levi.” Hange shifts, the sheets rustling around her and sliding down her chest. She makes no move to tug it back up. Focused on him, instead. “It’s okay, you know. To not be okay. And I’m repeating myself, I know.”
Levi nods.
“Do you want another cup of tea?” Hange asks, her teeth worrying her lip. Hands running up and down his arms.
“Maybe later,” he says, slipping off her glasses. Dropping a kiss to her nose and forehead before he buries his nose into her hair. “Let’s just lie in bed for a bit.”
Hange holds him as his thoughts meander, recalling the hours spent in the hospital, the lingering smell of antiseptic, blood, the feel of cold stainless steel in his hands and fingers, the sound of tears and anguish and pleas. All of it stacked upon the other, an almost crushing load on his mind and soul. But Hange holds him through it, her lips pressed together in a thin line, no attempt to offer any words of comfort because that isn't what he truly needs right now. Her warm weight pressing close to him, her strong arms around him, and the careful light strokes of her fingers in his hair, all that he needs, wants.
“What time will the kids be home?” His voice is rough, a little muddled with his unshed tears. “What should I do for dinner?”
Instead of answering him, he feels Hange drape her legs over his, resting there for a moment before she slides and entangles them with his. The feel of her skin against his, purges the residual melancholy inside of him.
“Sleep, let’s get some sleep first.” She traps his wandering hand in hers. “We both need it. Our parents are taking the kids for dinner too, we have all day.”
“Oh?” He gives her a slight lift of his brows. She swats at his other hand climbing up her hip to her chest.
Hange grins at him, whether it is from reading his dirty thoughts, or the fact that his hand has started to trail up her leg, massaging the back of her thigh, he cannot tell. Only knows that she has started to press light kisses on his chest, up his neck, sucking his ear lobe in between her lips.
“We should really sleep,” she whispers right into his ear. The heat of her words, flowing straight to his core. “Gabi promised to bring us a full write up with pictures, once they’re back home.”
“Fuck, Gabi’s going to go on about some monkey again, isn’t she?”
“Maybe,” Hange laughs.
“She may look like me, but she takes after you, you know,” he grumbles.
Hange pinches hard on his sides. He grunts and pushes her hands away, sliding closer to her to wrap his arms around her waist. She in turn, shifts to lie on her side, tucking her chin into his shoulder. With her hand hanging loose at his side, Levi feels the metal band of her wedding ring brush lightly on his skin. His eyes gravitate to their dresser table, eyes contemplating the little snow globe perched on it. It’s been awhile since he last set eyes on it, with its usual resting place being the topmost shelf in their study.
“The kids were playing with it right till Kuchel showed up.” Hange explains without moving an inch from where her nose is tucked against his neck. “I kept an eye on them, don’t worry, Gabi didn’t climb up using the study chair again. And I managed to convince Hansel to leave Mr. Parrot at home, saves us the trouble scouring the entire zoo if he leaves it behind again.”
He runs a finger along her shoulder blade, letting her know that isn’t his concern. For all her tendency for reckless behaviour or being too preoccupied with work that she neglects herself, Hange never ever allows for any such slip ups with their children. He never has to worry about it.
The reminder of the gift from a time not too long ago sparks a long forgotten itch of his. Something that had been covered and stowed away in the tight space of their garage with the various other things that were relegated to be not child friendly.
As the two of them lie in the dark, the sunlight from behind their bedroom curtains creeping bright, tangent lines across the space, Hange’s soft breathing against his skin, Levi decides that later, they should have a night out. Just the two of them, a bike ride around town before they picked a place for dinner.