Page 132 of Born for Silk

No. No. Not now.

The baby is scooped from Ana’s arms by one of the women in coral and set into Master Cairo’s.

I look at Ana’s face.

I read in a book that we have over two billion muscle cells in our heart. I didn’t think it was possible to see them, but it is, because I just saw all two billion cells in Ana’s heart break.

“I know what The Crust is now,” Ana mutters as her newborn is taken away, her voice vibrating and hollow. “The Crust is a place with a baby that you can keep.”

And I know the name of the haunting emotion… The one twisting me, squeezing my heart and wringing it dry. It is grief.

Chapter Nine

Aster

None of us can talk.

There is nothing to say.

Blossom has no optimism to share, and Daisy has no strength to ground us with rationale. I have no stories, no puzzle metaphors, or folktales.

And Ana…

She has nothing.

We watch with helpless eyes as the room clears, doctors and nurses, Rome and Master Cairo with the baby, leaving us alone with her empty arms and hollow expression.

Without a word, Ana twists her face toward the wall. With all two billion of her heart cells broken, I don’t think she has enough pulse left for anything.

I reach out my hand, desperate to comfort her, to touch her dark hair, and tell her it will all be okay, but I stop. It won’t. I retract my hand. It’s not enough. It is unbearably inadequate.

Unable to stay and remain calm, I walk from the Silk Girl Wing with my head down, the breeze stirring silence around me until I hear two men talking.

Rome…

How could he?

What did I expect?

I knew it would happen. Was warned. Prepared, even. But nothing could have prepared me for that level of… vulnerability. We cannot object, rally together or even mourn.

How do you mourn something that was never yours?

The ache is profound. And even though we are not meant to feel it, it is bottomless.

I follow the building until I get to the edge, listening to the private conversation as it takes place just around the corner.

“Was that necessary?”

I almost collapse under his rough tone, but my spine finds strength in the limestone wall, needing it to hold me upright as Rome speaks with such deep, dark apathy.

“Sire. This is the great problem with removing boundaries. One’s place in The Cradle becomes confusing.” I hear Master Cairo’s sigh. “The girls will move on. I assure you. They will focus on their Purpose.”

His voice drops, hinting at anger. “You could have waited until the other Silk Girls left the room.”

“And protect them from reality? This is life. The babe needs to bond with the Sired Mother as soon as possible. A young Silk Girl can barely care for itself. They are spoiled and have leisure—luxuries. Fed. Bathed. Dressed. A Sired Mother is a mature, highly skilled caregiver. This is what is best for the child. When the Silk Girls finish producing, they will have matured and be ready to take on the important task of raising the children of The Cradle.”

I cannot listen anymore.

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