Chapter Hundred And Nine

EVELYN’S POV:

It had been over two months since the failed surgery. My dad had been living on what felt like a miracle ever since. Each day with him was a gift, a fragile thread holding him here. Leonard, Mia, and the caregiver had been the pillars of support I leaned on during those challenging months.

Ryan and River visited often, bringing small moments of joy, but today wasn’t about my dad or them. Today, it was my turn on the hospital bed. Inside the labor room, I lay ready—or as ready as anyone could be—to meet the life I had carried for nine months. The pain I felt was incomparable, beyond anything I’d ever imagined.

I clung tightly to Leonard’s hand. He stood beside me, his calm voice trying to pierce through my haze of agony. “You’re doing so well, babe. Just a little more.”

A doctor—or maybe a nurse or midwife—entered the room, her expression calm yet purposeful. I knew it was time. She held a syringe, walking briskly toward me.

“Hello, madam. Just relax and stay calm. You can do this,” she said. Her tone was gentle, but her words felt hollow against the storm raging inside me.

The prick of the syringe was barely noticeable compared to the waves of pain that wracked my body. Soon, the room filled with nurses, each one preparing for the task at hand. Gloves snapped into place, lights brightened, and machines hummed to life.

Then, the pain intensified. My pelvis felt like it carried the weight of the world, each contraction a reminder of how far I still had to go.

“F**k, someone get this off me!” I screamed, my voice raw and unrecognizable. I didn’t care about how loud I was; I just wanted the pain to stop.

Leonard tightened his grip on my hand. I could feel his concern, but he held steady, trying to anchor me through the chaos. The midwives moved quickly around me, their hands steady even as I writhed on the bed.

“Take a deep breath and push—you’ll be alright, madam,” one of them instructed, her voice firm yet soothing.

I wasn’t really listening. My body was acting on instinct, but my efforts felt futile. I pushed with all the strength I could muster, but nothing happened. My body felt like it was failing me.

Exhaustion overtook me. I fell back onto the bed, gasping for air, my body trembling. Leonard stroked my hair and caressed my forehead, his voice a soft murmur of encouragement.

“Babe, I can’t. I f**king can’t do this,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face.

“Yes, you can. Trust me, you can,” he replied, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes.

The midwives quickly set up a drip to help me regain strength. I closed my eyes, trying to pull myself together. After ten minutes of rest, the ordeal began again.

This time, the pain was sharper, more intense. It felt like my body was being torn apart. I screamed, the sound echoing in my ears. My vision blurred, but I couldn’t stop.

“It’s coming, ma’am. Just two more pushes!” one of the midwives urged.

Leonard’s hand remained firm in mine, his grip a lifeline. I pushed harder than I ever thought possible, tears streaming down my face. My body felt like it was splitting open, the pain blinding.

“Leonard!” I screamed, my voice breaking.

“It’ll be over soon,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. I could tell he was holding back tears.

With one final push, I felt a sudden release—a solid weight leaving my body, followed by a rush of liquid. Relief washed over me, instant and overwhelming. The pain was gone, replaced by an emptiness that felt almost surreal.

I took a shaky breath and opened my eyes. Leonard was still beside me, his face streaked with tears.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft, almost trembling.

I nodded weakly, too drained to speak. He sighed in relief, his lips curving into a smile. Then, he turned to the midwives, who were gathered around the baby.

But something was wrong. The room was eerily quiet. I couldn’t hear the baby cry. Fear gripped me, tightening my chest, but I was too exhausted to move or speak.

Leonard returned to my side, his expression troubled.

“Baby…” he began, his voice hesitant.

“The bab—” he tried to continue, but a loud, piercing cry interrupted him.

My heart leapt with joy. Tears welled up in my eyes as relief flooded through me. Leonard’s face lit up, a mixture of joy and disbelief. He kissed my hand and rushed to the baby.

“Congratulations, it’s a boy!” one of the midwives announced.

I smiled weakly, sinking back into the bed. But just as I began to relax, another sharp wave of pain tore through me.

“Something else is coming,” I managed to say before a scream escaped my lips.

A midwife rushed to my side. Leonard, alarmed, handed the baby back to the nurse and came to me. The placenta followed soon after, and with it came another wave of relief.

Leonard returned to the baby and carefully brought him over to me. Despite my exhaustion, I lifted my shirt with the midwife’s help and fed my baby his first breast milk.

Leonard pulled out his phone, capturing the moment with a look of pride and love that warmed my heart. A midwife offered to take more photos, and we posed together, our little family complete.

The exhaustion soon overtook me, and I drifted into a deep sleep, oblivious to everything around me.

When I woke up, the room was quiet. The drip had been removed from my hand, and the baby was nowhere to be seen. Panic set in for a brief moment, but I was too weak to act.

I tried to sit up, but the pain stopped me. So, I lay back, willing myself to stay calm.

The door suddenly flung open.

I stretched myself gently from the bed to see who it was.