TW: Milly’s story contains Coercive behaviour
She yearned for an adult conversation to converse about anything other than babies. She loved her children. They were her entire world, along with cooking and cleaning. Milly no longer relied on the basic instructions offered by Scarlett. She memorised every meal. Time was a precious commodity, one she struggled to have for herself. There were moments Milly wanted to be selfish, to leave Hunter with the twins and take a day. She dreamed of getting her nails done or a massage. In the afternoon, Milly could set her easel by the lake. There would be a picnic of her favourite foods, and she would have a few hours alone.
Milly sighed as a knock interrupted her fantasy. She glanced at the sleeping babe in her arms and the one settled in her crib. It had taken months to reach this point. James would fall asleep in her arms and not reawaken when placed in his crib beside Selena. She wondered if her son would ever stray far from his sister. Selena was no different. She wanted to be near her brother. She exercised her lung capacity when Hunter insisted on father-son bonding.
As Milly reached the door, a warmth filled her at the sight of red hair. They came bearing gifts of freshly baked bread. The springy texture accompanied a warm yeast aroma that lingered even when cooled. It was a comfort blanket, and Milly held back on hugging it. Scarlett laid out the homemade cheese wheels, fruit, and lasagne. Milly’s mouth watered, and the weight on her shoulders eased. Scarlett embraced her, cringing at the scent of baby sick. They ordered Milly to shower as they prepared a light lunch.
While her fantasy would need to wait, Milly let the water run hot. Lavender baby wash soothed and cleansed her body as she counted the five minutes she had to herself. Shoulder tension eased, lowered, and sagged as Milly rolled her neck. Aches and pains she had grown used to seemed to ebb away in the heat. A sleepy sensation came over her, and the urge to rest her head became overwhelming. The scent of grilled cheese wavered through the house. The promise of city life conversation had Milly happy to leave her sanctuary. She braced herself, her feet pressed against the shower floor, and turned the tap. Icy cold water blasted its necessary cruelty. She squeaked. Her body jolted like each individual stream was an electrical current waking her. It took thirty seconds to transition from sleepy mother to alert friend. Milly was ready to tackle her lunch.
She settled opposite Scarlett, taking a huge bite. The bread cracked, and crumbs tumbled from her mouth, tapping the plate beneath. The cheese strung between mouth and bread. It yielded a hot, creamy texture with a salty edge, a testament to the high-fat content. Milly could sit through a second helping, except Scarlett suggested balancing her meals. Her stomach grumbled, unsure if it agreed, but kiwi, melon, and strawberries awaited. A scoop of pistachio ice cream would have made this a perfect dessert.
Taking a reluctant mouthful, Milly questioned those years living in the city. Had she taken advantage of Eliza? What had she done to show Eliza appreciation? Tears stung her eyes. Milly tried hard to bite them back, retracting her hand as Scarlett reached. She was grateful for everything Eliza and Scarlett did for her. There were days when Milly wished to be a teenager with life and dreams ahead. It brought a weight of guilt because she wanted her children. They were the one part of her life Milly knew never to regret. Her life here, however, was coming at the cost of her dreams, the art career she had worked towards. Hunter believed as the mother, her presence at home was vital. He wanted her to sacrifice her life for the children and expect nothing. From her children, Milly never would expect anything more than for them to be happy. As for Hunter, he had yet to mention marriage again. It had been on his lips when they first dated, but years passed, and she was still waiting.
If you are affected by the events in Milly’s story, help is available: https://www.nationaldahelpline.org.uk/
By the Grace of Sim Gods 