Leon and I have been separated by more than just distance. Too much is left unspoken, too many expectations have been thrust on our shoulders. Gentle moments have been overwhelmed by our responsibilities with not enough time to nurture anything more.
But none of that matters now. I just want him back. I want to see his face, to feel his hand in mine, to know he’s alive.
A sharp pain rips through me, stealing my breath. The doctor starts giving instructions. Her tone is urgent but calm.
Leon, please. Come back to me. Don’t die out there. Come back before it’s too late.
The world is slipping away, my mind clouded with pain and exhaustion. Each contraction feels like a tidal wave dragging me under. My body is working against me, and I can barely keep up.
I squeeze my eyes shut, sweat dripping down my temples. My hands clutch at the sheets, desperate for something to anchor me. Somewhere in the haze, I hear the doctor’s voice, calm and instructive, but it feels like it’s meant for someone else.
Then I hear him.
“Mia. I’m here.”
My eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, but then I see him—Leon.
His face is pale, his dark eyes filled with something I can’t quite place, but the sight of him steadies me like nothing else could. I feel the tears leaking from my eyes.
“Leon?” My voice cracks.
“I’m here. I’ve got you.” He kneels beside the bed, taking my hand in his.
His grip is firm and grounding, and his warmth cuts through the cold terror that has been gripping me for hours.
“Breathe for me, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.”
A sob wrenches from my mouth. I can’t tell if it’s from the pain or the sheer relief of seeing him.
“You’re so strong,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my temple. “You’ve always been strong, Mia. Just a little more, and we’ll meet our babies. I’m so proud of you.”
His words pull me back from the edge. I focus on his voice, his presence, and somehow, it makes the impossible seem bearable. I push through the pain, gripping his hand like a lifeline as the doctor urges me on.
“It’s almost time,” the doctor says.
Leon’s lips find my ear, his voice trembling but steady. “You’ve got this. One more push. I’m right here. I’m right here. You’re perfect, Mia. God, I’ve missed you so much.”
With every ounce of strength I have left, I bear down. The pressure peaks, and then, suddenly, the room fills with a new sound—a cry, piercing and raw.
“It’s a girl!” the doctor announces.
I gasp, my head falling back against the pillow as tears stream down my face. Leon presses his forehead to mine, his hand never leaving mine.
“She’s beautiful,” he whispers, his voice breaking.
But it’s not over. Another contraction seizes me, and the process starts again. Leon doesn’t waver. He stays by my side, whispering his praise through my painful delirium.
Minutes later, the second cry fills the room.
“And a boy!”
For a moment, the world feels still, the cries of our twins the only sound. Leon kisses my forehead, his hands cupping my face as he stares into my eyes.
“You did it,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.
The doctor brings the twins to us, tiny and perfect, before swiftly tending to clean up.
Leon climbs onto the bed next to me so that they can settle between our arms. He looks at them like they’re the most precious things in the world. “Hello,” his voice breaks with emotion. “Hi.”
