#tullia

Another loud scream came from the room. Cicero didn’t stop his frantic pacing.

A lot of questions filled his mind. What if Terentia didn’t survive? What if the baby didn’t survive? What if... the baby was a girl?

He always dreamed to have a baby boy. He could teach him everything he knew and they would spend time together talking about philosophy. He could bring him to the forum and show him how important participating in public life was. The State was made by people, after all.

«I… I can’t take this! Make it STOP!»

He could only hear Terentia’s screams, and not what the midwife and the handmaids were saying. Was everything okay?

He went to the door, but rapidly changed his mind. He didn’t want to stress Terentia: she already had a lot on her mind. What could he do? Nothing, he said to himself.

He didn’t really want to watch the scene, either. He was excited for the birth of his first child, of course, but was worried too. He was worried that Terentia, the pious and devout Terentia, would yell profanities at him, just because he was there. He was worried that something could go wrong. And, gods, he didn’t want to see the blood. He had saw too much of it during the war, just some years prior. He didn’t want to smell it either.

Cicero shook his head, trying to stay in the present. He was not on the battlefield anymore, and the only battles he could fight were those fought with words. In them, he was a master.

He didn’t even realize the noise calmed down until he heard the door creak. He rapidly turned around and coughed to regain composure.

«Terentia is fine, and so is the child.» the handmaid said, lowering her head in sign of respect.

«It’s a girl.»

A girl.

Cicero felt something shatter inside him, but hoped the handmaid didn’t notice.

«Fine.» he said, his normally strong voice weirdly toneless, «Let me in.»

The handmaid stepped back.

Terentia was reclining on the bed. The handmaids had already taken away the bloody sheets, but the weird smell lingering in the air made Cicero shiver. Terentia was panting.

«Marcus, I swear it,» she spitted with the energy she had left, «if you just try to…»

Cicero wasn’t even listening to her anymore. He was completely enraptured by the child, moving her tiny hands in the air while crying. She was hungry, he could tell, hungry and ready to let the world know she was there. And, gods, in that very moment he swore he would give everything for her. His child.

«You can nurse her.» he told Terentia, and his voice sounded so sweet and caring. He could feel the tension in the room drop.

Terentia blinked at him, but obeyed. She brought the child to her breasts: the child latched and her desperate cry vanished.

Cicero sat on the edge of the bed, gently stroking the baby’s head, covered by some locks of black hair. He was a father now. That word sounded so strange, yet so suitable. He had a little girl to take care of.