Conversation
Cluster 5
“due to Elara's pregnancy being smooth sailing and healthy, if not deeply sensual” (24 conversations)
explicit
toxic
16 turns
Feb 24, 2024 at 9:09 PM AEDT
Australia
, Queensland
USER
Is the emotion too spelt out ? As the searing pain began to swell in Elara's taught abdomen, tightening and leaving her breathless, she rested her forehead on Max's arm. Her breaths deepened , as she welcomed the contraction, working with the intensity as she rocked her hips against Max's pelvis. "Good job Elara, ride it out" Max whispered , as he placed a firm hand on her hipbone and massaged deep patterns of reassurance into her contracting skin. "Breath Elara, you've got this" With a sheen of perspiration covering her brow , she bit her lip and nodded , as another contraction seized her , and she gasped as fluid trickled down her thigh . Max continued rubbing deep circles into her pelvis , encouraging more of her esters to flow as she moaned , a sensual edge lacing her voice , as she harnessed her feminine energy to help her pelvis open for her baby. Her next contraction was tenfold in intensity, and her real work was beginning as she took measured pants to breath the head through her pelvic bone. "One step closer , Elara , moan her down " Max encouraged , mataining his rotation of her hip bone as the last of her water left her, and she fell back in relief .
CHATBOT
The passage you've provided is quite descriptive and indeed does spell out the emotional and physical sensations Elara is experiencing in great detail. The imagery is vivid, and the narrative makes it clear that Elara is in the midst of childbirth, with Max supporting her through the process. Whether the emotion is "too" spelled out depends on the context in which the passage is presented and the intention behind the writing: 1. **Genre and Style**: If this is meant to be a very intimate, detailed, and raw account of childbirth within a certain genre that appreciates such detail (like a romance or drama), then the level of description could be quite appropriate. 2. **Intended Audience**: If the audience is expected to want this level of detail and the emotional connection to the characters is key to the narrative, spelling it out might work well. 3. **Purpose of the Scene**: If the purpose of the scene is to draw the reader in emotionally and make them feel as though they are experiencing this moment alongside Elara and Max, then the explicit detailing can be effective. 4. **Consistency**: If the rest of the narrative maintains this level of description, it would fit seamlessly with the established storytelling style. However, in a different context, this might be seen as overly explicit or unwarranted. Some readers or literary styles prefer more subtlety and leave more to the imagination, allowing the reader to infer the emotional and physical sensations rather than spelling it out so thoroughly. In general, striking a balance between showing and telling in writing can be important. "Showing" allows the reader to experience the story through actions, senses, and feelings rather than through the author's exposition and summarization (telling). The passage leans toward telling rather than showing by describing Elara's sensations and emotions in great detail. Ultimately, whether the emotion is too spelled out is a matter of personal taste and narrative intention. As a writer, if the detailed approach serves your story and resonates with your readers, it may be the right choice for your piece.
USER
Who are some authors that spell out emotions
CHATBOT
Authors have varying styles when it comes to expressing emotions in their writing, and some are known for their explicit, detailed descriptions of characters' inner experiences. Here are a few authors known for spelling out emotions in their works: 1. **Nicholas Sparks**: Sparks often spells out the emotional landscapes of his characters in his romantic novels. His characters frequently experience deep emotions, and Sparks does not shy away from detailing these feelings, such as in "The Notebook" or "A Walk to Remember." 2. **Danielle Steel**: As one of the best-selling authors in the world, Danielle Steel is known for her emotional dramas and the explicit way she describes her character's emotions, often tackling complex relationships and personal crises. 3. **Stephenie Meyer**: In the "Twilight" series, Meyer extensively describes the emotions of the protagonist, Bella Swan, particularly her intense feelings for the vampire Edward Cullen. 4. **E.L. James**: In the "Fifty Shades of Grey" series, James provides detailed insights into the emotional and physical experiences of the protagonist, Anastasia Steele, as she navigates her relationship with Christian Grey. 5. **Jodi Picoult**: Picoult's novels often feature characters facing moral dilemmas and emotional crises, and she takes care to spell out the complex emotions that her characters grapple with, providing readers with a deep dive into their psyches. 6. **Cecelia Ahern**: In novels like "P.S. I Love You," Ahern is known for depicting characters' emotional journeys in a very detailed and explicit way, encouraging readers to fully engage with the characters' experiences. 7. **Khaled Hosseini**: Although not as overtly as some other authors on this list, Hosseini's novels, such as "The Kite Runner" and "A Thousand Splendid Suns," include rich emotional descriptions that are carefully woven into the narrative, offering a clear perspective on the characters' feelings. 8. **John Green**: In books like "The Fault in Our Stars," Green is known for his characters' introspection and clear articulation of emotions as they encounter love, loss, and existential questions. 9. **Colleen Hoover**: She has gained a significant following due to her ability to spell out the emotional lives of her characters, often dealing with themes of love, heartbreak, and healing. Remember that the degree to which an author spells out emotions can vary widely even within a single author's body of work, and the approach to describing emotions can change from one story to the next based on narrative needs and character development.
USER
Does the author of the fight club spell out emotions
CHATBOT
Chuck Palahniuk is the author of the novel "Fight Club," which was published in 1996. Palahniuk's style in "Fight Club" is known for being minimalist and direct, often using stark, simple language to convey complex themes and emotions. He employs a stripped-down prose style that suggests rather than spells out emotions. Instead of explicitly detailing every emotional nuance, Palahniuk's approach often leaves more to the reader's interpretation, letting the actions, dialogue, and internal monologue of the narrator hint at the underlying emotional currents without extensively elaborating on them. For example, the emotional experiences of the narrator--his sense of disconnection, his insomnia, the thrill of fighting, or his feelings about Tyler Durden--are often inferred through his observations and the way in which he describes his interactions with the world rather than through overt emotional exposition. In a sense, Palahniuk invites readers to engage more actively with the internal states of his characters, often focusing on the raw and gritty aspects of those experiences. This approach is in line with the novel's themes of masculinity, consumerism, and the search for identity in a disenchanted society, where characters might not be fully in touch with their emotions or may express them in unconventional ways, such as through the physical outlet of fight club itself.
USER
How about this author : Holding her closer to his pulse, Max stood against the metallic wall of the NICU; her fluttering heartbeat was steady and reassuring. "Hey, beautiful, I suppose it's just you and me now. But we'll be alright; I promise you. Despite all your suffering, you're still far more resilient than your old man." He paused, suddenly feeling his mere twenty-six years of life weighing on his frame as he offered equilibrium to her dependent, innocent youth as she gazed up at him. Her hazel irises stared intently into his matching brown and amber aspect, and a smile crossed his lips. "My God, I can't believe you're already seven days old, and hey, you're worth more than anything else I have ." His voice trailed off as his gaze lingered on her translucent skin, her veins shining under the soft light. "And you're so gorgeous, so perfect. A little fighter, and brave as hell, too." Exhausted but at peace with her fitting perfectly between his wrist and forearm, he sighed with a profound sense of fulfillment and redemption. Standing placated in the encroaching dusk, as he pulled her closer against his chest, his gaze drifted to the glass window beyond him. Amidst the fading light that outlined buildings and wisps of smog, he felt a sense of perishing hope; one that he clung to with grit and resolve, if only for her sake. As he gently traced her delicate features with his finger, she reached up and hooked her index finger over his thumb, creating a fragile but powerful lifeline, transpiring through the grim backdrop of her makeshift nursery. "Lily bean, now see your mom--" He hadn't the words to continue the thought as her intricate grasp on his slid away, her hand splaying across her chest as she slipped into slumber. "You can sleep; there'll be plenty of time to stare at this mug in the morning." He exhaled with relief as her consciousness seemed to melt away into the bleak atmosphere. As her breathing then fell against his palm, it was a soothing rhythm, leaving him stupefied in the peaceful lull of the ebb and flow. ,"of course , you look just like her? Well, you actually kinda resemble me, and now that's not so great, huh?" Max smiled at her oblivion, which he prayed would not betray her someday. "Don't you dare wake up yet," he muttered, her sleeping form realigning itself against him, seeming to sense his presence as her pulse slowed. Unable to even move, Max stood with the sleeping infant, too exhausted to lay her down in the clinical humidicrib of sallow light that hummed with a disconcerting tone. Overwrought with fatigue yet savoring the fleeting moment of solace, he willed it to engulf him in its embrace. Although it tore incremental fragments from his being, it was solace all the same. After a nurse finally intervened, alleviating Max of his daughter and his zombified stupor , he was caught in a suspended network of disconnected wires, live endings strewn through his brain. Not daring to seek unconsciousness yet, not until visiting hours drained away , Max steeled himself against the wall near the disconcerting crib , as her agonised cries gnawed at him. The solace had only lasted a few hours, already she was awake and screaming. But if it signified one thing ;she was breathing , and recalling her birth , he sighed in lament. As her cries continued, medical staff tended to her, leaving his depraved mind to watch in exhaustion. Minutes dragged as he wrested with the pull of sleep, haunted by just how vital her lungfuls of air were , despite conveying pain. The sound shrouded his mind as he revisited her first cry, only closing his eyes to let the moment invade him. The room , dimly lit and filled with tension, held a measured focus and intense energy that enveloped them both. "That's it, Elara, one more push..." a voice encouraged from the far distance, as the room seemed to fall away, the space between them growing closer. Max felt her hand interweave with the hair at the nape of his neck as she wound her fingers against his scalp. Following her electrifying pull downward, he rested his lips against her flushed cheek. She was radiating strength, exertion, and euphoria as her fingertips grazed his wrist and he grabbed her hand. "You've got this, Elara," he whispered roughly into her ear as she smiled through clenched teeth, his voice sending shocks of empowerment down her spine. Then as she fell back into his chest, his gleaming stare finding hers, a nurse's voice pierced the intimate, enclosing air. "The head is crowning, keep going, Elara." The atmosphere was punctured with her gasps as she bore down, resting her head in the hollow of Max's neck as he held his gaze steady on their child's emerging head. Inhaling as she collapsed her head against his, her resolve faltered for a moment as she whispered, "Max, I can't." "You are, Elara, her head is almost out," Max murmured in a subdued mix of pride and awe. As she refocused , her shoulders shook in his bracing palm as he stroked her back , applying pressure. "Almost there , 'Lara . Almost..." . In a rush of amniotic fluid and blood, their daughter's head emerged along with her left shoulder, but the fight was far from over. "Elara , the umbilical cord needs to be cleared from her neck. I need you to slow things down for me . Don't push. Pant , Elara. Pant." The room stayed engulfed in silence as Elara's hand searched for a solid foundation, anchoring itself in Max's shirt as she trembled against the force of her next contraction. "Max-I-need-" she gasped out between deep pants of desperation , her hold on his shirt whitening her knuckles. "Just focus on my voice , Elara . Pant through it. She's so close." Max encouraged , as the nurse slipped the cord from the child's head and instructed with a calm but assertive tone. "Great job, Elara , now push your baby out. A few nice deep breaths for me. And on three...One. Two... " As the pressure consumed her, Elara delivered one final push, grunting as primal effort raged through her . As the body slid out, and a nurse's hands caught their child, relief washed over Elara's senses and she collapsed deeper onto Max's chest. "You did it, baby, she's here." Max affirmed in a quiet rasp. But the silence of the room stretched on, and their worst fears were confirmed, Elara's panting breaths the only audible sound. "She's not respiring, clear her airways," another voice instructed with an urgent tone, and Elara turned her head towards Max in sheer panic. "What's happening? Our baby - she's?" Just as fear clawed through Max's weathered eyes, a nurse placed her fragile, violet body onto Elara's chest. "The skin-to-skin contact will help her take that first breath. Hold your baby, Elara." Her hands, still shaking, enclosed around her daughter as she rubbed her back, her blue gaze filled with worry. "Come on baby girl, fill those lungs," Max urged, his breath hitching in his throat. "Breathe , Sweetheart, I've got you", Elara pled as she rubbed circles over her daughter's ribcage with her other hand. Then, as they both waited in anticipation, a cry broke out into the air. "Oh thank goodness," Elara laughed through tears as the crying continued, and Max felt the moment stand still, bound in sheer relief, the sound more reassuring than anything he'd heard in a long time. "Hey gorgeous," Max greeted his daughter before pausing, a smile breaking across his face, "what are we going to name her, can't call her 'gorgeous' forever..." Elara laughed with exhaustion, "Max, you know the name we chose, trust you to forget when she actually gets here..." Max quickly responded, jest in his voice, "I did no such thing. Welcome to the world, Lily. A bit sooner than we expected, but you're finally here, huh?" Her crying slowed and under Elara's palm, she found a moment of solace, her tiny lungs regulating her breaths and her cries stopped. Just as Max collapsed his weary arms around Elara, gazing at their slightly premature infant, her breathing slowed to an almost rasping cough, and she was quickly whisked from Elara's hold. "Her pulse is dropping again. Begin resuscitation...blood volume rising., stabilising..." Feeling the weight of the triumph turn to defeat and fear, Max rested his head on Elara's shoulder, "No-" Elara buried her head in the curve of his shoulder, confused and unable to catch her breath after hours of labor, and now her child was unreachable yet again. "Please let her be alright-". Max ran a hand through her damp, unkempt hair , combing strands from her forehead , waiting to hear cries in the distance, but the silence returned , more sinister than before . "Elara, she's stable , but your daughter is being transferred to the neonatal intensive care unit, her heart rate dropped a little low , and we just need to ensure her stability. You can rest a moment than you may see for yourself that she's alright. She's a strong little fighter, Max. You should both be proud. " The nurse rubbed a firm hand over Elara's shaking chest, and nodded at Max with assurance. Embracing Elara , they stayed locked in a shared moment of uncertain resolve. The next hours would be critical , and Elara let her tears fall as Max rested his chin atop Elara's dark hair , sighing as his eyes drifted into the distance. It had been a long, dragging night of insomnia, flashbacks, and a lack of food as Max leaned his spine against the hospital corridor. There, he had set up a temporary vigil, not leaving the hall as he watched her in his peripheral vision. "How could Elara abandon the poor kid? How could she just--" As he ran a calloused hand over his unshaven jaw, Max contemplated the impending call that suffocated his tattered psyche. It was the inevitability encroaching on his raw nerves as his fingers unlocked his phone with trepidation and scrolled for her number. "Elara? I don't know. You discharged yourself; no, I don't care where the hell you are--she can't survive on air. No, but please just tell me what I can do to fix--No, of course I love you. I'm alone in a hospital with our--well, my daughter." The phone went dead in his ear, and he let it backflip into his lap with resignation. Returning to his haphazard array of belongings, he pried open an energy drink, drained it, and then crushed the aluminum under his fingers; the distorted metal absorbed his anguish and dismay. All his disbelief and heartbreak over Elara seemed weightless, meaningless, and forgotten as he heard Lily's almost inaudible whimpers floating in the air. "Right here, Lily, I've got you," his hoarse voice found her, and her fussing stopped in an instant. His softening voice whispered intangible phrases; he half-sang, his deep-throated hum off-balance from his persistent fatigue. A lullaby of his own, off-key, intermingled with her cries, permeated the space between them. "I wish I could pick you up kiddo but rules are rules." His eyes floated shut, and images filled his mind: cowering under creaking stairs as the weight above him lurked closer, his young screams pleading for mercy. "I didn't mean to, Dad--" Suddenly, everything grew colder, then a fierce heat drove through him, making him flinch at the recollection. A boot sailed past his head; then a knife. Falling to his knees, petrified, he soon felt the lurid warmth of urine saturating the tongues of his shoes, filling the perforated leather with liquid. His head hung in shame and degradation. "Max, now I will have to punish you for ruining my floorboards, son." As Max felt a dark shadow encompass his juvenile mind, he cried even harder, shaking like an untethered string. A balloon burst under the thud of a boot, and he yelled in confusion, "Is it because of my birthday party? I didn't want to turn five anyway! I'm sorry..." Max reopened his eyes, back in the present once more, his pulse thudding out of sync with his infant daughter's. Her accelerated heartbeat still seemed steadier than his own. "I'm sorry you'll be in here a while longer. Can't take you home yet. But you're gonna love your own crib. It'll put this humidifier to shame. You just wait and see..." With a heavy weight in his lungs, almost drowning him with the proximity of his flashback, his mind flickered to Elara. Holding the still-crying Lily, determined to soothe her discomfort in the cool night, he could still taste Elara, feel her in his clothes, and it sickened him . As he placed Lily into her contraption of a crib with reluctance, he sank against the wall, exhausted . He had to fight the torrent of frustration that tore through his clenched teeth as he reached for his phone the second time that day. "Pick up, please... Elara? Oh, God, just tell me why--No, I haven't slept; she's in a critical condition. Don't worry about it. I know it's heartbreaking. What, so I'm not going through hell right now? No, please, I'm sorry--" Again, the line died out in the shell of his ear, wrenching a twist of agony through his stomach. Exhaustion gnawed at his brain, and he relented to sleep as it finally proceeded , like a tower of building blocks smashing down upon him. "No, Max, I--it's because I love her that I can't watch her suffer..." Elara's tear-stained blue gaze pierced into his as she stood under the harsh lights of the parking lot. Like a deer in headlights, her frightened expression held an acceptance of fate. Max, reaching out and grabbing her wrist, infused his pleas of incredulity into the closing space between them. "Elara, please, I love you, but I love my child, damn it... And I'll be standing there watching when she takes her last breath. If that's how this ends...so be it. " Elara's torn expression ripped at his heart as he conceded the truth. "Say it, Elara... Just put me out of my misery. Because what is it that we can't work through? What has happened to us? That you'll leave me here with our child?" After a long, wrenching silence, she whispered, "I love you. Nothing is wrong with us, Max, but if I lose her, I won't be the person you fell in love with. I won't even want to know myself. I... I'd rather pretend in my mind she's going to survive this--" He interrupted her, anger and frustration gnawing at him. "What if she survives this? Then what will she have? . This is the definition of selfishness, Elara, and you know that. Just go... This here is what's breaking us." As he lifted his gaze, she was already walking away, her head in her hands. The streetlight flickered out for a moment, and he was swallowed by darkness, sinking as the concrete seemed to embrace him when he fell. His pulse raced to the surface of his throat as he retched himself into stark consciousness, gazing around in sheer panic. He ran a hand over his drawn features. Upon hearing his child's faint breathing--a newfound white noise that salved his frayed nerves--he relaxed against the wall. Six weeks had passed, and Max had been offered respite housing by the hospital, where he had relocated his sparse belongings. The imprint of his spine against the wall had almost been visible when a social worker assigned him a bare-boned apartment with a single bed and central heating. This particular morning, his clothes were fresh, and his face clean-shaven as he entered the NICU and locked eyes with his daughter. "Morning, Gorgeous." The mild rays of morning bled into the room, embracing her in a blanket of warmth, the humidicrib encasing his daughter with a plastic film of isolation. He staggered over to where she lay and lifted her into the air. "My little girl is six weeks old. I swear you're growing bigger every single day." With grit under his nails and darkness pooling under his eyes--an accumulation of the passing days--he beamed at Lily with awe, relief, and pride. Holding Lily in his outstretched arms, the golden light outlined her body, bathing her in an aura of warmth. As he stared into her irises, mesmerized, a gentle smile broke out across her lips, reaching her gaze and filling it with specks of recognition and joy. "You're smiling," he laughed, a surge of pure elation coursing through him. "Of course, you're smiling, because you know I love you, right?" His own deep hazel eyes glazed over, and he was unable to look away. His daughter, in an exuberant moment free from agony, maintained her entrancing grin, and his arms trembled as he lowered her onto his forearm, holding her close. "Your first smile, perhaps? I'll have to ask the nurses... they've taken such phenomenal care of you. You'll be at home before you even know it." Her invigorated breathing, steady and strong against his skin, gave him something palpable to focus on as he lamented the grave reality and cursed under his breath. "I miss her, you know, but I worry about her, too. Maybe someday she'll find her way back to us. But I'll be here for your first word, first step. You're gonna come on jogs with me, huh? Yeah, that's right, you are." Max, beaming with admiration and genuine excitement, felt a weight lift from his shoulders that had almost clung like shrink wrap to his existence. Lily was coming through the ordeal of being born with weak organs, and while she still seemed vulnerable, she shone with fighting spirit. "You've been listening to me blabber on, huh?" Max whispered as her eyes danced with the rays of daylight. "Daddy passed out last night 'cause he was so tired, but I'm here now, and I ain't going anywhere, kiddo." At that moment, she fell asleep in his arms, and his moments were up. He lowered her back down into her protective bubble and sank down into a plastic chair adjacent to where she drifted into sleep. He'd even dressed decently, without noticing, just to visit her, his grey Henley accentuating his dark boots. "Hey, well look at that, you got me dressing up again." He ran his tongue along his teeth, an absent-minded gesture as he smirked in disbelief. Standing up, he smoothed out his jeans and headed for the cafeteria, a raging appetite igniting in his stomach. Soon, his nostrils were affronted with the sizzling aroma of scrambled eggs, bacon rashers, and ground coffee. Overwhelmed by his apparent hunger, he wasted no time heaping his tray to the edges with the enticement of an actual meal. As he began entertaining his newfound hunger by the forkful, a figure slid down into the booth beside him. "Hey, you're that guy with the gorgeous little angel, Max, right?" Caught off guard, he gazed away from his food, drinking in the angular features of a fellow parent he'd met in the halls weeks earlier. "Hey, Sam, yeah, my daughter Lily, she was born with a lot of complications, but she's doing so well; how's your son holding up?" Looking out at the distant footpath beyond the cafeteria, Sam smiled, a hopeful look crossing his gaze. "James will be discharged tomorrow; my wife is packing his things as we speak. Cystic fibrosis is a hard road, but it just means every day is meaningful for us, y'know? Makes you appreciate each microscopic little moment that much more." Max nodded in silence before sighing. "Yeah, I'm glad he's doing well. And you and your wife, too. I wish you all the best. Stay away from here, alright?" Sam offered Max a look of empathy, his hollowed eyes filled with a sense of rigor that Max could slowly feel fabricating within his own soul with the passing days. "We'll try," Sam replied, placing a hand on Max's shoulder. "Life gets hard in here, but you're looking well; how is Lily doing?" Max, unflinching under Sam's open palm, gazed at his half-empty tray. "She's... amazing. Six and a half weeks old. They say she'll be home in a month or two. The time just--." "Yeah, it flies, but that's life. I'll stop by with Madison and James tomorrow to say goodbye. You and Lily take care, alright?" Strategically pushing the eggs around his plate, too unnerved to eat, he paused before taking an overloaded bite for lack of another option. "Yeah, I'm keeping it together for her as best I can. Thanks for everything, Sam, it means a lot." Sam rose from the booth and gathered his own bearings, a nervous energy in his fingers as he let go of Max's shoulder and headed for the exit. "Don't mention it, Max, you're one hell of a strong guy, and I respect that. Glad to have met you, buddy." Max then scraped the remaining eggs from his plate, dragging his fork across the surface of the tray, leaving trails of bacon grease winding in all directions. "I'm gonna carry that kid out of that damn intensive care unit yet. One day that'll be us, at least it had better be before I have some sort of early life breakdown..." Aiming his words at the unappealing, tepid coffee, still untouched, he then dropped the fork in disengagement, swiveled his chair around, and trudged out of the booth. "One genuinely disgusting hospital meal closer to freedom, Max." Heavy with weariness, he reveled in a moment of procrastination, folding a grocery list and tucking it into his pocket; his mental too-hard basket with disinterest. His mind drifted to thoughts of what Lily would look like as she grew older, and how it might feel to grasp her hand as she learned to walk, the enriched soil beneath her feet, and the adorable attire he would adorn her in. Petite, pastel pink dresses, and sherbet green and sky-blue striped rompers. Max, flopping onto the bed of his apartment, remained lost in thought, all manner of milestones occupying his mind rent-free. Then, just as he'd found sweet reprieve, a worrying thought intruded on his daydreaming; his iced bachelor's degree. His mind lurched, his fingers fumbling with a loose thread on his jeans as he searched helplessly for anchorage in their worn fabric. When Elara had fallen pregnant, it had been far from smooth sailing, and Max's plans of grad school had been dashed to care for her and cope with Lily's precarious arrival. It was all he'd dreamt of, yet it had somehow found its way to the background and had never resurfaced again. "Oh dear God, I don't want to think about how I'll provide for her," he groaned, and retrieved the list of toiletries and household items he needed to obtain from the local supermarket. With his own scrawled handwriting staring back at him, he toyed with the edges of his reality, the fatigue penetrating him once more. "You'll figure it out, Max, you'll make her just as proud as she makes you... maybe." As noon approached, and with no time for lunch, Max coaxed his uncooperative limbs off the stiff bed and turned away from the mirror in avoidance as he cleaned himself up and tended to mundane chores. His hands gripped the shopping cart as he tossed items in with an ever-present nonchalance. His afternoon spent away from his daughter seemed bleak yet inescapable, as if its irreversible damage to his time with her wasn't even worth the trouble. The technicolor blur of the aisles whizzed past as he crossed off the unyielding list of requirements, his pen in his teeth as he hummed his way through the isolated store. Before long, it was over, and he hauled two overstuffed grocery bags through his apartment door with resolve, crashing on his board of a bed with a sense of accomplishment as he offloaded the provisions onto the floor. His evening visit to Lily was a beacon of hope, as he prayed she was still kicking and not in any pain. Just then, his phone blared at him, and his hand flew to his bedside and he slid the screen open. "Yes, it's he... I'll be there immediately." Max's complexion drained of color as he entered the hospital, bypassing check-in with raw panic tightening his airways . As he approached the NICU, he was met by the firm restraint of two open palms against his chest, a nurse staring him in the eyes as she spoke with a measured, arresting gravity, grinding him to a halt. "Lily's heart rate dropped quite low in the last hour , but we have stabilized her for now, Mr. Hawthorne. Still, we need to ask you to wait here while we ensure she remains stable... she's a strong girl and she's holding steady." "Just, please get her through this... I--" Max stumbled backward, easing himself into a waiting room chair and gripping the arms, his veins visible against his contracted muscles as he clenched the leather to stall his pulse. Stunned into silence, he dropped his head into his hands, clutching at his temple and interweaving his fingers through his dark hair. "We'll keep you updated on her condition, and if she remains stable, you'll be able to see her , contact might be limited unfortunately, but you can most certainly let her know you're here." The nurse, wearing an empathetic smile, left Max to his thoughts as he denied himself so much as a glance toward the steel doors barring him from his daughter. Time seemed convoluted as he glanced at the digital minutes on his phone screen, relieved to still be alone in the hall; she was remaining stable, and that was all he could hold onto as the room tilted. Another minute passed, the longest of his life, and his instincts drew his eyes to the long, curtain-drawn window that shielded him from his worst fears. His potential nightmares were crashing down around him, the corridor narrowing with each second that he was left to his own devices. Disorientated by the distortion of time , he was carried into an ocean of harrowing scenarios , lost in terror as the reality consumed him, the ward slipping away beyond his frozen gaze at the floor. Awoken from his stupor by a piercing cry, the heavy metal doors swung open, and a nurse ushered him inside the neonatal unit, where Lily's pinkened flesh radiated with the aftermath of adrenaline. Her cold, lilac lips and fragile body, covered in ECG monitors, lent her a stark sense of vulnerability against the solidified beeping of machines. The room held an eerie stillness, as the residue of his nightmares prevailed. As Max leaned over Lilly's recovering body, he reached down and traced his thumb down her bare abdomen, finding her featherlight pulse and following it through her veins. Rendered speechless, only the sensation of her heartbeat underneath his own offered him sanity. But it was more than enough; he let his fingers rest over her pulsing sternum, as he stood rooted to the spot, his feet seeking purchase from his boots. Monitoring each beat under his thumb, it became a grounding rhythm in the dying afternoon light." The impending night leered at his phone with threat and uncertainty, the digital seven o'clock screaming at him. The frigid, impersonal apartment that awaited him faded to the back of his clouded senses; what if she had another scare, and he was asleep? His legs, refusing to automate, stayed rigid in their place, and he gripped the side of the humidicrib in exhaustion. The staff surely wouldn't appreciate him holed up in the corridor, but he wore an expression of exemption from visiting hours as Lily slept soundly under his lingering touch. Removing his hand from her chest, he hauled a chair over to her side and unloaded his body weight onto its hard surface. "Don't scare your old man like that again, alright?" His answer came in the form of a barely audible sigh as she dragged in a breath and coughed with struggle in her voice. Max let his eyes slide closed, as he mumbled, "We're both too young for a cardiac arrest, Lily bean. You hear me?" Finally succumbing to unconsciousness, Max slept without dreams, lost in a blanket of abyssal darkness. Two weeks had passed, and Max was finally able to raise Lily high into the air and sit her in his lap. Her immune system was strong enough to tolerate longer periods of freedom from her prison of controlled humidity. Placing a knitted pink beanie over her dark head of hair--one that he and Elara had chosen months ago--an amalgamation of triumph and sorrow filled his eyes as he tugged it down around the pink tips of her ears. She gazed up through the woven fabric and flashed a brief smile before reaching for his clavicle, her hand resting in the hollow of his neck. "Hey, there's that smile. Gotta keep you warm out here, huh?" he said as he wrapped her in a blanket of pastel stripes, the banana yellow bringing forth the pigment in her irises. "Well, who's looking more edible than the food around here " Max slipped his phone out of his pocket, aiming the periscope lenses at her features and snapping a photo. Her pupils , dazed by the flash , widened and seemed enthralled with his device, reaching out and kicking her feet in amusement. "You'd better get used to having your selfies taken, bean" . Max chuckled to himself and he categorised the picture under a brand new album, alongside a few snaps he'd snuck without using his flash, of Lily in her first moment after entering the world . Less than glamorous, she was smothered in crimson blood, crying , and not expected to be the object of photographs two and a half months later . But there she was , complacent in his lap as he grappled with the notion of wrangling a car seat into the back of his Voltzwagen Beetle . Aerodynamics left him bemused as he he held her up and trailed her through the air , weaving her back and forth. Then as he settled her back down into his lap he tugged the hem of her beanie down over her eyes , lifting it again in an impromptu game of peek a boo. "Where'd Lily go, there she is" he teased at his uncomprehending infant, more for his own amusement. Before he knew it her time was up and he placed her back in her crib, still clad in her drooping beanie and vibrant blanket. "Sleep tight my little bean burrito" Max muttered as he slipped out of the room. As Max pried open his blearing , bloodshot eyes, the ceiling greeted his mechanical stare . There were motions to run through, not that caring was easy, as his inbox flooded with messages he ignored. He never heard from Elara, abiet stressing that Lily was passing through milestones like water rushing down a drain . His desperate fingers , slicing through the still autumn air, couldn't preserve them beyond digital snapshots. "She'll come through that door and want her back...." He sighed heavily, playing the scenario over on his mind , until it ran like a slideshow . Whether it was a dream or a nightmare seemed imperceptible. And irrelevant, as Lily's first , second and maybe even third smiles all scorched in his vision . Her first months of life had been proliferated with health scares , yet she had preserved into her third month, and his mind was clogging life a drain of stormwater. Her first breath was still swirling like a half -drowned leaf as her first laugh threatened to pile onto top of it , breaking the dam. But he'd found somewhere to preserve it, along with the chilling recollections of her bruise covered body as they'd placed her lifeless body on Elara's chest, as they'd both waited for that first gasp of air to fill her lungs . "I can't do this anymore" he groaned into the crook of his elbow as he sat upright . "I have to." As the crisp October air invigorated his senses, he approached the NICU, holding the only toy he'd laid hands on since the days of his own buried childhood. Tucked out of sight behind his back, the stuffed bear served as a mascot of potential enjoyment and optimism, unlike anything from his past. Despite his seemingly traumatizing journey to this moment, having always avoided toy stores and even playgrounds to dodge childhood shadows, here he was. Goofy and excited with an overstuffed animal in hiding , awaiting its thrust into his daughter's limelight. Harmless and endearingly sweet with its button eyes and embroidered nose--it had captivated him through the gift shop window for weeks. His purchase had been drastically delayed--strict safety protocols at the NICU prohibited any external and potentially unsanitary objects to safeguard the vulnerable infants from autoimmune risks. The particular details had eluded his memory as he finally relented to the streak of anticipation igniting his soul. He felt he might implode or combust into a thousand brilliant stars, never having dreamt his own child would come to see the day when he'd arrive carrying gifts. 'Her first birthday had better watch out,' he acknowledged with mischief dancing in his eyes. As he prepared to enter the ward, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection, a smile creeping across his lips But just as he did so , a thought intruded on his composure , twisting nausea through his gut.. The sunken spade , lying inferred in a sandpit flashed through his mind , eliciting a chill of terror down his spine . The grass was intoxicatingly green , as he stood wailing, sand beneath his toddler stance. "Max , pick the spade up or I'll-" . He slammed his eyes shut and shook his head , returning his thoughts to the cloying sweetness of the bear . The light returned to his eyes as he straightened out his shirt as the excitement refilled his veins. 'You sap, Max,' he muttered to himself with a wry grin, seconds before stepping into the room where his daughter awaited her first anniversary gift. 'Three months old, kiddo. The least I can do is give you a reason to make fun of me when you're older" Her hazel eyes flew open and she expelled a yawn as Max tickled her navel, eliciting a seemingly delighted gurgle . "You'll be laughing soon , especially if Daddy outdoes himself when you're six months old " Max said, overjoyed as she writhed under the sensation, and he could almost hear her laughter , bright and effervescent and filled with the essence of summer. "When I get myself back to college...you'll have a lot more toys. " Max unveiled the bear and lowered it down beside her pillow, the azure bow around its neck matching one of the stripes on her blanket. 'Your Mom bought you multicoloured everything so all the clothes we picked would be perfect, no matter what color eyes you came out with...' he trailed off, Elara's vibrant blue eyes now a haunting memory he slipped aside. Turning her head and scaling the huge bear with her widened gaze , Lily reached up and clutched her fingers in the bear's alluring fabric, smiling in fascination. "Happy third month, Lily bean" . She gave Max another broad smile , and he grabbed the bear at the nape, dangling it teasingly above her, making circular motions with its flaccid legs. Then he swooped the bear down , its body embracing her, and he laid it across her body as she wriggled and cooed from underneath. "You really are going to be the death of me. I can't hug you as often as I want but, now you have him to fill in huh?" Lily seemed to approve, as he he freed her of the polyester bear and plopped it beside her head, its size emphasising her lack thereof. It came at him with interrogation and an insidious lack of threat all at once. Max answered the call , as he stood in the corridor just inches where Lily was sound asleep . "'Elara? Yeah, I'm holding up. Lily? She's thriving... No, there were a few times it came close to losing her, you know that. I don't know how I could stand it, I just did. You want to see her? I know, and I understand that, but, are you ready to accept that she's still liable to plummet, that any milestone she hits could undo itself? It's how it's been since she was born. I have to live with that in order to take those damn photos. Yeah... I don't want to keep you from her, but, you weren't here for any of it. Well, they didn't force me into the street, I have paid accommodation. No, we aren't ok, and we might never be, the fact that you knew about my own childhood and you walked away from her, I'll never be alright with that Elara. Never. Well, you don't have custody of her right now, and maybe you need to think about why you really want her back in your life? Because she's healthy right now? As in today? Because there's no consolation here. No guarantees and I'm struggling-" It tore through Max's chest like a serrated blade, all the torment and isolation came to the surface, and he bit it back. "'No, Elara, if you do come back into her life, you can visit her alone. I won't try and stop you, but, I don't--No, I can't see you. No, I really can't right now. I won't be here, so schedule that time and let me know. Do I still? Don't ask me to answer that. Goodbye, Elara.'" He locked his screen, an alien feeling of yearning washing through him, followed by his blood running cold. His hand, flying to cover his stare as his retinas burned with tears, trembled as he sank into a low crouch against the wall. Lacing and unlacing his boot as his vision hazed with conflict, he finally dropped the phone to the floor and rested his head behind him, the bulge of his larynx streaked by a few stray tears that pooled there. "'Shit,' he muttered, sinking a solidified palm into his hair. "Hey Lily bean" , he smiled , her fourth month having come like a freight train. "I guess your Mom just- I guess she isn't ready for someone like you , huh? An enigmatic lil' force to be reckoned with , yeah? Luckily Daddy likes gambling , and risky behaviour, they're your best qualities, bean." His fingers ran through her soft hair, dishevelling her hairline and combing strands into place. "But you're coming home soon , and I have a mobile filled with stars for you -" . Her attention on his every word, though it held no meaning other than rambling, caused her to reach at his hair and clutch a fistful between her fingers, laughing in amusement and enthralment as she travelled to his eyebrow . He raised it , finding her exploration as fascinating as she seemed to. "Yeah , I'm a handsome devil, it's where you get your insatiable beauty after all" he jibed with affection , in an attempt to drown Elara from his mind . "I bought your crib from Ikea , and assembled the flat pack without reading the instruction manual. Don't tell anyone." Winking at her, she hovered her thumb near his eye and he brushed it aside before taking a stab to the eyeball. "Hey , watch out " he said with another laugh of enrapture, not nearly finished with the interaction as he envisioned the entire nursery . "I can't wait to take you home , you smell so-" He inhaled the scent of lavender soap and baby powder, a raspberry musk that stayed in his lungs and imbued his nostrils . "They showed Daddy how to bathe you but he's getting there ..." A deep sense of satisfaction settled in Max's chest as Lily's unique scent overwrote the smell of Elara , an aroma he was coming to forget, a puzzle piece aching in his genetic makeup, but missing from his blueprint nonetheless. "You're it , Lily Bean, don't you go anywhere till I get back ." It was a long, stretching motorway of potholes and untied plot ends winding him into a gridlock , as he found himself swamped in static cars. He surfed through channels , the songs castrating his patience , as he chewed on the side of his check with agitation. It wasn't an urge to return to his empty dwelling, it was more the inertia in itself , masticating his sanity. A meal , the kind that grew edible inside of a microwave, awaited him in an unappealing fashion. Eating was a chore , akin to preparing a last minute crib for Lily , kept on standby, for when she was discharged. But being prepared for an upsurge was equally as challenging as steeling himself for a setback or scare, the lights of the traffic hounding his sight as he strummed his fingers against the wheel. The respite housing was far more luxurious than the streets , but it was still a transitional pit stop and not a real home . "Stanford... God I miss Newport already " Just then, his phone screamed to life and he unlocked it in panic "Max speaking- no, why? her sole next of kin? No, no-Elara and I- I'll try and reach her. No I'll be there , there's bad traffic but no, of course. She's stable ? Now? She- . Alright. No, I can drive. I can drive. Elara , I hope so. I will" . As his face whitened , Max slid his thumb to Elara's number without even blinking as he swallowed down scathing fear that lashed across his tongue. "Elara , get yourself to the hospital now, they , they said Lily was dead for four minutes, I don't know , it doesn't matter -just get there please , I'm trying to get there -ok-you too." Max slammed his hands against the wheel , cursing through his teeth. His daughter had been pronounced clinically dead for four entire minutes , and the road was slipping out of control beneath the wheels . Four minutes . With his corneas submerged in tears, he counted another four , imagining her lifeless body being resuscitated , after moments of actual death inhabiting her body. Max was almost sick , but held down his bile as the the traffic moved at long last. "Max , Elara is in the waiting room . Lily is stable but her heart rate stopped for three seconds and she was resuscitated twice since we spoke with you . " His feet refused to cooperate as the nurse gestured towards the NICU as he interrupted "She died ? She- what happened? . He felt the all too familiar restraint against his shoulders , a touch that filled him with dread . "yes , but she's alive and stable , Max . We will let you know the moment anything changes and it's safe to see her. " The tension in the corridor was thick , and ice cold, yet heated with desperation as he locked eyes with two familiar blue pools of heartbreak and confusion. "Elara? . Max turned the corner in shock , his eyes halted by her tear-stained gaze." Max, I-I'm sorry , I just, we're going to lose her ." She broke down into tears , and he pulled her into a tight embrace from the chair beside her, interjecting in a whisper "No we aren't --" Then as all his nightmares and heartache submerged from his insides, he held her tighter, burying his head in her bare clavicle and unleashing a torrent of grief . She rubbed his shaking back in silence, and they stayed interlocked in united fear and anticipation. As minutes passed , Elara ran a finger along the tender spot between Max's earlobe and hairline, "I'm sorry I wasn't here for the both of you -" in a strained attempt to fend off her pleas, Max pulled back, "Elare please don't , I told you I can't ...and I meant that . " Her expression of hurt and regret , washed with fear, shattered him as he redirected his helpless eyes to the floor, disengaging himself from her grasp. The metal doors opened , and a nurse whispered against the tense, unforgiving backdrop of the corridor, "She's holding stable , but we suggest you stay here for a few hours , it might not be easy to see her at this stage, but in a little while perhaps-" In a swift moment , Max was on his feet "Why not now?" . The nurse was firm , restraining Max as she had before "She cannot be touched, nor moved. I