His name was Martin, and although he wasn’t one hundred percent aware of it, he’d saved her life.
Elena was a strong, smart, and beautiful woman. But at twenty-five years old, that didn’t mean much to her at all. She had been a member of a family of four, her, mom, dad, and baby brother David. (By baby she meant three years younger, but that was hardly the point in her opinion).
One idiot on the road while they were on a family trip. Left her the member of a family of one, her mother and brother dying the in crash, and her father dying several days later in the ICU, never waking from the coma the crash had caused.
Elena herself temporarily lost her ability to walk and permanently lost a lot of the range of motion in her left arm. But she was determined, and through an awful lot of hard work, she managed to walk again.
And her first unassisted walk following the accident was walking down the aisle to marry Andrew Davison, the absolute love of her life. It was a bitter sweet day, because her family was still gone, but Andrew would be her new life, her new family, and together they could start everything all over again. She was sure that things could only get better from there.
She was married four months and sixteen days when the diagnosis came in. Andrew was sick. Cancer. If he was going to live (chances were slim) then it would be a long and painful slog to a semblance of health. They tried, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. Thirteen months and twenty-four days after their wedding, Andrew died.
So, at twenty-five years old, Elena was the only surviving member of her family, partially handicapped, and a widow to boot. She was heartbroken, Devastated, understandably depressed.
She was considering all sorts of terrible things. Things too terrible to even mention. But then she got sick at work. Light headed and vomiting, her coworkers demanded she leave, and because her work involved interaction with children, employee guidelines mandated she go have a check up to assure that she didn’t have anything contagious before returning to work. She went to the appointment because she was going through the motions, and partly because she was hoping that she had something terrible and life threatening so that she wouldn’t have to take the coward’s way out.
That’s when she found out about Martin.
She was four months pregnant, her son conceived two months before Andrew died, the last time he’d felt good before his disease took a turn for the worse. Pure luck and fate, because it was the only time they slept together in months on either direction.
He was a miracle, and he was healthy, which was a miracle within a miracle. And just when she was sure that she would never be happy again, she suddenly had absolutely everything to live for.
He looked so much like his father, but with a hint of her own father in some of the features. She watched him grow up and become someone as good as both of those men.
She never told him exactly his role in saving her life, because that was no burden for a child to bear. But she knew that for a while he was her only reason for living, and it was worth every second of life just for him.