It’s summer late, summer young — a perfect July night.

I looked at you and you were a stranger. All these months, I’ve been waiting to see you, thinking that I’d know you when we met. But the truth is, I never did. There is so much I don’t know about you, and I’m still counting down the days until I do. 

You’re beautiful, my baby girl. Half me, half Henry — but at the same time, one hundred percent you. Looking into your eyes, they were so much like mine; yet, something in that smile of yours filled my heart with rue. And I felt so guilty, for there was no doubt in my mind that I’d trade all my tomorrows with you for one slice of yesterday with your father. 

How can I ever hope to be the mother you deserve when thoughts like these are voiced on my troubled breath? I think of Henry, and I wonder if he’d ever forgive me for putting our daughter second in my heart. But that’s just it — you are my heart. You’re all that I have left. 

Cordelia. My heart, my soul, my everything. I wish I knew who you’d grow up to become. I’m so scared, love — so scared, because I’m alone and I’m failing. I couldn’t even carry you to term, to at least give you the best fighting chance. Please, Delia — believe me when I say that I do love you. I know I haven’t shown it as well as I should, but I swear that I am trying. Your father’s death ripped pieces of me away, and there’s only the smallest part of me left for you. 

And despite my broken love, I can say this: for you, I would die. But what scares me the most is that for you, I would kill — in an instant. I know it as surely as I know my own name. I won’t let anyone hurt you. And I know that you’re here with me, my baby girl, but I miss your father. With every breath and every heartbeat, I miss him. 

But it’s just you and me against the world now, my darling.

You and me against the world.