identity | reus + lewandowski

(a/n: VERY UNEDITED there will be a lot of typos so beware)

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Robert had turned to the resistance once we all realized we had nowhere else to go and this meant that we were moving to Warsaw, where the group operated. I had given birth just a week ago—to a girl, this time, named Klara—and she was healthy and beautiful; big blue eyes and blonde hair, similar to Chris (though, as Chris grew older, his hair darkened and was now more light brown than it was dark blonde).

Anyways, Julian had still been with us but more by force than it was choice; we'd realized that there was no way we'd let him leave especially now that he knew the truth about everything.

And he hated it. Well, hate was a strong word, but he would much rather be back home in Dortmund—and he had no issue with letting us know that.

The resistance was practically a business in itself. Everyone had jobs; I worked in the nursery with the children, Robert did whatever the men did, even Julian and Marco took part in getting rid of any suspicion about the resistance that may've been arising around the Polish nazi's.  Most of the women snuck children out of the ghetto, which was how so many were here with us; but Irena, the leader, deemed me too weak to do so.

We didn't get along. It obviously had to do with the affection she held for Robert and the fact that he didn't feel anything for her because of me; the fact that I had something going on with Marco also bothered her even more. It bothered all of the women in the village.

Irena was a beautiful woman with blonde hair and green eyes, and it was clear to see that the majority of men here admired her looks. I supposed that was another reason as to why she hated me—in a sense, she was no longer the only Aryan girl on the block, meaning she was no longer the only one who could get away with doing things the others couldn't. No one here but the kids as well as me was Jewish, but still, most of the adults had a bad rep and were likely on the radar of the Nazis patrolling the streets of Warsaw.

I held Klara in my arms and sat in a chair as I stared at Robert and Irena; she was laughing and twirling the ends of her stupid blonde hair which was unfashionably long and flat, practically passing her shoulders.

Chewing my lip, I gazed down at Klara to distract myself from how jealous I was getting and to think that maybe I didn't deserve to be jealous; after all I was practically in a relationship with two men.

I placed a hand on Klara's head and beamed down at her. At one month old, she was already smiling, and it was beautiful. She didn't look like Marco at all—jokingly, Robert had said, that was good.

No matter how hard I tried to admire my baby and only her, Robert and Irena's laughter tainted my hearing; eventually I whipped my head up and hissed. "What's so funny?"

Robert grew silent while Irena got a stupid smirk on her lips. "A Polish thing. You wouldn't understand." Then she turned on her heel and sashayed out of the room, leaving Robert to stare at me with wide eyes.

"Margaret, don't tell me you're jealous of her."

"Maybe I am." I responded, my eyes cold. Robert spent more time with her and the other adults than he did me. I felt like that one little kid who was too young to play with the older ones, so all they could do was sit and watch with sadness.

Robert went to take a step before me, but before he could, Chris ran up and jumped before Robert's legs, holding something alive in his hands. Robert let out a handsome, boisterous chuckle and kneeled before his son so that they were almost level in height. "Chris, you have to be careful, or you might kill it!"