I never told my parents the truth about who my husband really was. In their eyes, he was simply a disappointment compared to my sister’s successful CEO husband. When I went into labor earlier than expected while my husband was overseas, the pain hi:t hard and fast.

“Amelia,” one of the nurses said, her voice soft but firm. “We’re going to take care of you. Just stay with us. You’re going to be okay.”

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that everything would be fine. But the fear clung to me, wrapping itself around my chest with every breath. I could feel the tightness, the pressure, the overwhelming sensation of something not quite right.

As they wheeled me into the hospital, I couldn’t help but look up at Ethan. His face was a mask of calm, but his eyes were different now—something deeper, more focused. He wasn’t just here as my husband. He was here as the man who had saved my life countless times before, and who would do it again.

I didn’t speak, but I didn’t need to. His presence spoke for both of us.

Inside the delivery room, the sterile smell of antiseptic hit me like a slap in the face. A team of doctors and nurses bustled around me, their movements efficient but calm. They didn’t waste time with pleasantries—they had one job, and they were doing it.

“Let’s get her set up,” one of the doctors instructed, checking the monitors and confirming details with the nurse.