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.

I felt myself being lifted again, moved from the stretcher to the delivery bed with practiced care. Ethan was still beside me, his hand on my arm, his gaze never leaving me.

“Amelia,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m here. Don’t worry. You’re not doing this alone. We’re in this together.”

But I wasn’t so sure. Not anymore. The pain was intensifying with every passing second, twisting my body in ways I hadn’t imagined. I gripped Ethan’s hand tighter, squeezing it until my knuckles turned white.

I wanted to scream, but there was no room for sound. Only the pressure, the burning, the tightness that felt like it was splitting me in two. Each contraction came like a wave, crashing over me with no warning, no mercy.

And still, Ethan held my hand.

He didn’t speak anymore. He didn’t need to. His steady presence was all I needed.

It felt like hours had passed before the doctor spoke again, but I knew it hadn’t been that long. Time played tricks on a woman in labor, stretching and warping every second into something unrecognizable.

“Amelia, you’re doing great,” the doctor said, his voice professional but warm. “We’re almost there. Just a little longer.”