“You can.” His voice was firm and certain. “You are the strongest person I know. You survived captivity, survived a crash, and crossed a desert with two children. This is nothing compared to that.”
“This is different.”
“This is harder,” he agreed. “But you are not alone this time. I am here. The midwife knows what she is doing.” He cupped her face, made her look at him. “You can do this.”
She did her best to believe him and draw strength from his certainty as another contraction rolled over her.
“That’s it,” the midwife said. “Next one, I need you to push.”
“I can’t?—”
“You can,” he said. “Breathe with me. In… out… good. Again.”
She followed his breathing, focused on his voice. The next contraction built, and the midwife’s voice cut through the pain. “Now. Push.”
She pushed, bearing down with everything she had. Selik supported her, his arm around her shoulders, his voice in her ear.
“Good. Very good. Keep going.”
She pushed until the contraction passed, then collapsed back, gasping.
“Excellent,” the midwife said. “I can see the head. One or two more pushes.”
One or two more. She could do that.
The next contraction came faster than she expected, and she pushed without waiting for instruction, driven by instinct and desperation.
“Almost there,” the midwife encouraged. “One more. Big push this time.”
She gathered every ounce of strength she had left, gripped Selik’s hand, and pushed. The pressure, the pain, the overwhelming sensation of her body splitting apart?—
And then release.
A cry filled the room. High, furious, alive.
“It’s a girl,” the midwife announced.
A girl. They had a daughter.
Her vision blurred with tears as the midwife cleaned the baby, wrapped her in soft cloth, and placed her in Corinne’s arms.
She was tiny. Perfect. Her skin was a pale green, lighter than Selik’s but darker than human. Her eyes were dark, her features a blend of both parents.
“She’s so beautiful,” she whispered.
Selik was frozen beside her, staring at the baby with an expression of absolute wonder. His hand hovered over her, trembling, as if he was afraid to touch her.
“It’s okay. You can touch her.”
He reached out slowly, his massive hand cradling the baby’s tiny head with infinite gentleness. A sound escaped him—half laugh, half sob.
“She is really here,” he said, his voice rough.
“She’s really here.” She leaned against him, exhausted and exhilarated. “We did it.”
“You did it.” He kissed her temple, her cheek, unable to look away from their daughter. “You were incredible.”
The midwife returned to help her with the first attempt at nursing, and Selik watched in awe as their daughter latched on and began to feed.
