Mommies and Daddies

While I am sad to hear that you’ve hit writer’s block on this story, I am happy to see this update. It was nice to see a bit of her background since we’ve had a peak at the other two characters backstory. Good job. 

Toddler menu out the door eh?   But might just make it harder the next night.  

Damn, this guy is really dedicated to getting exactly what he wants. Sheet laundry for the sake or getting changed by someone else. Game recognize game.

Thank you so much for your comments and for getting so invested in the story, Little Lamb, Lilmisschipmunk, and sklawlor. You’re a big part of the reason I’ve kept writing, and I’ve genuinely enjoyed working on this story so much. This one is a little different from my previous stories. There are relatively few outright ABDL scenes, and I’ve given more space to neurodivergent life and character drama. Maybe that’s part of why it hasn’t received quite as many likes or views as, for example, my previous story. Still, knowing that even a handful of readers have become invested in these characters and genuinely want the best for them feels absolutely incredible to me. So, here’s some more of the story for you.     Chapter 22 – Missing Days The first thing Aino became aware of was a sound.   A quiet, regular beeping somewhere close to her. She listened to it without opening her eyes. There were other sounds too: footsteps in a corridor, the faint rattle of something being pushed past a doorway, voices too far away to understand. None of them belonged anywhere she recognised. Her mouth was dry. Her head hurt. Aino opened her eyes. For several seconds she stared at a white ceiling and waited for it to become something else. It didn't. There was a light above her, turned off, and a pale curtain hanging to her right. Daylight came through a window somewhere beyond it. She tried to move. Pain shot through both arms. Aino gasped and immediately stopped. She lifted her head just enough to look down at herself and discovered that both of her forearms were wrapped in casts. They began just below her fingers and extended almost to her elbows, leaving her fingers free but otherwise making her hands look almost completely useless. She stared at them. That seemed unreasonable. Her right arm was resting on a pillow beside her. Her left was positioned across the blanket. A pulse oximeter was clipped to one finger, and an IV line was taped in place at the inside of her elbow, just beyond the cast. Aino tried to remember why. Nothing came. Her heart began to beat faster. She looked around properly now. A hospital bed. A monitor. A chair beside her. A plastic cup on a small table she couldn't possibly reach. Beyond the curtain she could see the foot of another bed. Hospital. That explained the ceiling. It did not explain the casts. Aino swallowed and immediately regretted it. Her throat felt as though she had spent several days eating sand. “Hello?” Her voice came out weak and rough. There was movement beyond the curtain. A man's voice said, “Oh. You're awake.” Aino turned her head. A young man appeared around the edge of the curtain. He was perhaps in his mid-twenties, with messy dark-blond hair and the kind of face that would probably have been annoyingly handsome even without the easy smile currently on it. He wore a hospital gown beneath an open hoodie, and a plastic tube ran from the back of one hand towards a stand beside his bed. He looked entirely too cheerful for someone in a hospital. Aino stared at him. “Who are you?” “Oskari.” “That doesn't help.” His smile widened. “Your roommate.” Aino looked around again. “Oh.” “You've been asleep for a while.” “How long?” “I don't know. They brought you in yesterday, but I wasn't exactly given your medical records.” Aino tried to sit up. The room moved. She immediately dropped her head back onto the pillow and closed her eyes. “Yeah,” Oskari said. “I wouldn't do that.” “Thank you. Very useful.” “I try.” Aino heard footsteps approaching. A woman in blue scrubs appeared in the doorway and glanced first at Oskari, then at Aino. Her expression changed immediately. “Aino?” Aino opened her eyes again. The nurse was young, perhaps around Oskari's age or a little older, with brown hair tied back and an alert, friendly face. She crossed the room quickly but stopped beside the bed rather than immediately reaching for Aino. “My name is Emma. I'm one of the nurses looking after you. Do you know where you are?” Aino looked around the room. “Hospital.” “Good.” “I had worked that part out.” Emma smiled. “Do you know which hospital?” Aino didn't. The smile disappeared from her own face. “No.” “That's okay.” It didn't feel okay. Emma pulled the chair closer and sat down. “Can you tell me your full name?” Aino did. “Date of birth?” She answered that too. “Do you know what day it is?” Aino opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She tried again, searching for the answer as if it might simply have been misplaced somewhere in her head. “What day do you think it is?” Emma asked. Aino gave her a date. Emma didn't respond immediately. Something cold moved through Aino's stomach. “That's wrong, isn't it?” “Yes.” “How wrong?” “We'll talk about that in a moment.” “That means very wrong.” “Aino—” “How wrong?” Emma told her. Aino stared at her. “No.” Behind the curtain, Oskari had gone completely quiet. Aino tried to count backwards. She knew what month it was. She knew where she lived. She knew what she had been doing. She remembered— Elisa. The thought came with such immediate relief that Aino almost laughed. “Elisa.” Emma waited. “My girlfriend. Elisa. Does she know I'm here?” “I don't know yet. We can find out.” Aino looked down at her arms again. “What happened to me?” Emma's expression softened. “You were found outside Kouvola yesterday. You were very cold and unconscious when help reached you.” “Kouvola?” “Yes.” Aino stared at her. “Why was I in Kouvola?” “We were hoping you might be able to tell us.” “I don't go to Kouvola.” Oskari's voice came quietly from beyond the curtain. “Apparently you do.” Emma turned her head. “Oskari.” “Sorry.” For the first time, he actually sounded sorry. Aino barely heard them. She was trying to find Kouvola somewhere in her memory. She knew where it was. She knew trains went there. She could picture the railway station. But she could not remember going there. “What happened to my hands?” “You have fractures in both arms. They've been treated, but you'll need the casts for a while. You also have some cold injuries, and you hit your head.” “Both arms?” “Yes.” Aino looked at them again as though one of the casts might disappear if she checked twice. “That seems excessive.” Emma gave a small laugh. “Probably.” “My head?” “You have a concussion. The doctors will explain everything properly. I'm going to check your pupils now, if that's okay. I haven't touched you yet.” Aino looked at her. “Why did you tell me that?” “Because I'm about to shine an annoying light in your eyes, and surprises are overrated.” Aino considered this. “That seems reasonable.” Emma checked one eye and then the other, explaining what she was doing before she touched Aino's face. The light was indeed annoying. When she finished, Aino tried to lift her right hand towards her forehead and was stopped almost immediately by the cast. She frowned at it. “I don't like these.” “I don't think you're expected to.” “How long do I have to wear them?” “That one is above my pay grade.” “Can I speak to whoever's pay grade it is?” Emma smiled again. “I'll get the doctor.” She stood, checked something on the monitor and adjusted the blanket near Aino's feet. “Do you need anything before I go?” “Water.” “Of course.” Aino looked towards the plastic cup on the table and automatically reached for it. Her arm barely moved. She stopped. For a moment nobody said anything. The problem was embarrassingly simple. The cup was less than half a metre away. Aino could see it. She had hands. Technically. They were simply useless. “I can—” She tried again. Pain answered. Emma picked up the cup. “Let me.” “I can probably do it.” Oskari made a small sound from the other side of the curtain. Aino turned her head. “What?” “Nothing.” “You made a noise.” “I was thinking.” “Don't.” Emma was trying not to smile. She placed a straw in the cup and held it close enough for Aino to drink. Aino hated how helpless the action made her feel, but her thirst won almost immediately. The water was wonderful. She drank too quickly. “Slowly,” Emma said. Aino stopped. “I know how to drink.” “I'm sure you're normally excellent at it.” From beyond the curtain came a quiet snort. Aino drank again. When she was finished, Emma put the cup back. “Thank you,” Aino muttered. “You're welcome.” Aino looked at her casts. “This is going to be inconvenient.” Oskari leaned around the curtain again. “For what it's worth, I needed help putting my socks on last week.” Aino looked at him. “That isn't worth very much.” “I was trying to make you feel better.” “You failed.” “I'll work on it.” Emma pointed towards his bed. “You. Back over there.” “Yes, nurse.” “And leave her alone for five minutes.” “I've barely said anything.” Emma gave him a look. Oskari disappeared behind the curtain. Aino heard the mattress creak. “He's annoying,” she said. “Yes.” “I heard that,” Oskari called. “That was the intention,” Emma replied. For the first time since opening her eyes, Aino smiled. The doctor arrived perhaps twenty minutes later. She was a middle-aged woman with glasses and a calm voice. She confirmed what Emma had already told Aino: she had been severely hypothermic when she was found, had suffered some cold injuries and fractures in both arms, and had hit her head. The scans had shown nothing requiring surgery. That was apparently the good news. Then came more questions. Aino knew her name, her age, where she lived and where she worked. She knew she had recently lived in Tallinn and had moved back to Helsinki. But when the doctor asked about Kouvola, the answers stopped coming. “Do you remember travelling there?” “No.” “Do you know someone called Jan Mikael Savola?” The name seemed vaguely familiar, but Aino couldn't place it. “I don't know.” She hated saying that. The doctor asked about her most recent train journey, and Aino closed her eyes, trying to find it. There were fragments—Tallinn, work, Juhani, Elisa—but she couldn't tell where one day ended and another began. The harder she searched, the less certain she became. “I don't remember.” The doctor nodded. “You've lost memories from the period immediately before your injury. That can happen after a head injury. Some of them may return.” “May?” “May.” Aino disliked that word intensely. “And if they don't?” “We'll deal with that if we need to.” Aino looked towards the window. Suddenly she felt very tired. “When can I see Elisa?” “We can ask the staff to contact her.” “Please.” The doctor nodded and left. For a while Aino lay quietly, listening to Oskari doing something on his phone beyond the curtain. He had apparently decided, for once, not to talk. Eventually Aino said, “You can talk.” There was a pause. “That's a dangerous thing to tell me.” “I noticed.” Oskari appeared around the edge of the curtain. “Do you actually want me to?” Aino considered the question. “Yes.” “About what?” “Anything that isn't me.” Oskari thought for a moment. “The coffee here is terrible.” “That's not interesting.” “You said anything.” “I overestimated you.” “People often do. It's the face.” Aino looked at him properly this time. Unfortunately, he did have a point. “You've been here long?” “Six days.” “What happened?” Oskari glanced at the tube in his hand. “An infection. It got a bit out of control.” “That sounds vague.” “Doctors use longer words. I prefer mine.” “Are you getting better?” “Apparently.” He said it lightly. “Emma says I'm much less interesting now.” Emma happened to walk through the doorway carrying something. “I said you're less sick.” “Same thing.” “You were very sick.” “So everyone keeps telling me.” “You don't remember the first couple of days.” “Which is probably why I have such fond memories of them.” Emma shook her head and walked to his side of the room. Aino watched as she checked his IV line. Oskari looked at her. “See? Cold hands.” Emma stopped. “Oh, not this again.” “I think patients deserve to be warned.” Aino frowned. “Warned about what?” Emma closed her eyes briefly. “Nothing.” Oskari grinned. “Emma sometimes has cold hands.” “Everybody sometimes has cold hands.” “Not everybody changes your diaper with them at six in the morning.” There was a brief silence. Emma looked at him. Aino looked at him. Oskari seemed completely untroubled. “You really don't have a filter, do you?” Aino asked. “Not much of one.” Emma finished checking the line. “For the record, my hands are a perfectly normal temperature.” “That is not what they felt like.” “Would you like another nurse?” Oskari looked genuinely alarmed. “No.” “Then stop reviewing my hands.” “I was offering constructive feedback.” “You've offered it four times.” “Consistency is important.” Emma looked at Aino. “You see what I deal with?” Aino nodded. “I understand why your hands are cold. All the warmth has left your body.” Oskari laughed. Emma stared at Aino for a moment. “Oh, good. There are two of you now.” The police came later that afternoon. They stayed for less than half an hour, although by the time they left Aino felt as though she had been answering questions for hours. Most of them concerned Kouvola, an elderly man called Jan Mikael Savola and the storage building where she had been found, but Aino remembered none of it. The officers told her that her hands had been tied when she was discovered, a fact that left her staring at the casts on her arms and trying unsuccessfully to imagine herself there. Then they asked about Juhani. Aino knew him, of course, but she couldn't remember seeing him recently. The police would not tell her exactly what they believed had happened, only that Juhani was connected to the investigation and that they were currently trying to locate him. “So you've lost him,” Aino said. The officer gave her a more careful version of the same answer. After they left, Aino lay quietly for a while, trying to fit together Kouvola, Savola, Juhani and the injuries she couldn't remember receiving. There had to be a sequence connecting them, but too many pieces were missing. She shifted beneath the blanket and suddenly became aware of how firmly it lay across her legs. The feeling was harmless, barely even uncomfortable, but something about it made her body tense before she understood why. “Emma?” The word escaped before Aino had decided to call her. A few seconds later Emma appeared in the doorway. “What is it?” Aino looked down at the blanket. Nothing was wrong. It was just a blanket, lying across her legs exactly as blankets were supposed to. “Nothing.” Emma didn't leave immediately. “Are you sure?” Aino hesitated. “Yes.” She wasn't sure why that felt like a lie. Emma gave her a small nod and continued on her way. Aino watched her disappear into the corridor, unsettled by something she couldn't name. For the first time since waking, the blank space in her memory frightened her more than the things she had been told about it. By evening, Aino had learned enough about Oskari to conclude that silence was probably physically uncomfortable for him. He was twenty-six, had been in hospital for almost a week and was, according to himself, practically cured despite the fact that Emma and apparently every doctor on the ward disagreed. He had a little sister who sent him voice messages several times a day, hated bananas but kept receiving them with his meals, and had developed an elaborate theory that the hospital vending machines were deliberately targeting vulnerable patients. Somewhere during all of that, Aino stopped merely tolerating him. She was listening to Oskari explain why three euros was “a matter of principle now” when Emma came into the room. Aino had begun to recognise the sound of her footsteps, although she wasn't sure how she had managed that in less than a day. Emma checked her temperature and asked about the pain in her arms. As before, she explained what she was going to do before touching her, even when it was something as simple as adjusting the pillow beneath one cast. Aino noticed it again. She still didn't know why it mattered, only that it did. Oskari was halfway through asking Emma whether the hospital had a formal procedure for reporting criminal vending machines when Emma glanced towards the doorway. Her expression changed. “Aino,” she said gently. “You have a visitor.” Aino looked past her. Elisa was standing in the doorway. Relief came so quickly that Aino didn't have time to think about it. After a day filled with strangers, missing memories and things she had apparently done without remembering any of them, Elisa was suddenly the most familiar thing in the world. “Elisa.” Elisa didn't answer. She simply stood there, one hand still holding the strap of her bag, staring at Aino as though she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. Aino smiled. “Come here.” Something changed in Elisa's face, but before Aino could understand it, Emma quietly pulled the curtain around the neighbouring bed and left them alone. Elisa finally crossed the room and sat beside her. “You look terrible,” Aino said. A small, unsteady laugh escaped her. “So do you.” “I have an excuse.” “Yes. You do.” Aino studied her. Elisa looked exhausted. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes, and she seemed strangely tense, sitting on the very edge of the chair with her hands clasped together. “What?” Aino asked. “Nothing.” “That wasn't convincing.” Elisa lowered her eyes. Aino instinctively tried to reach for her, only to be stopped by the cast around her arm. She looked at it irritably before turning back to Elisa. “You can hug me.” Elisa looked up. “I can't exactly do it myself,” Aino said. “You'll have to do most of the work.” For a moment Elisa didn't move. Then she stood and leaned carefully over the bed, wrapping her arms around Aino as gently as if she were afraid she might hurt her. Aino rested her cheek against Elisa and closed her eyes. For the first time since waking, something felt familiar. All day people had been telling her things about herself that she couldn't remember. They had examined her, questioned her and explained injuries she had no memory of receiving. Even her own body felt strange to her now. Elisa didn't. Elisa felt like home. “I was scared,” Aino whispered. “I know.” “They think Juhani did something to me.” Elisa's arms tightened around her for a moment. “I know.” Aino pulled back enough to look at her. “The police said he disappeared.” “Yes.” There was something strange in Elisa's voice, but Aino was too tired to understand it. She settled back against the pillow while Elisa returned to the chair beside her bed. “The doctor says I've forgotten a few days.” Elisa looked at her. “A few days?” “I think so. It's difficult to know how much you've forgotten when you've forgotten it.” Aino gave her a tired little smile, but Elisa didn't return it. “What do you remember?” Aino thought about it. She remembered their apartment. Dinner. The film they had barely watched. She remembered making love with Elisa afterwards, lying together in bed and feeling completely happy. Then she remembered something else, and her smile grew. “You walked into the doorframe.” Elisa went completely still. Aino almost laughed. “You told me not to say anything.” Elisa stared at her. Then, without warning, her eyes filled with tears. Aino's smile faded. “Elisa?” The first tear ran down Elisa's cheek. Aino frowned. “Why are you crying?”

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