23. Mia
23
MIA
I clutch my swollen belly, inhaling deeply as another contraction ripples through me.
The twins are ready, which means that I should be ready.
Except I feel anything but.
“Okay, just lie back here and keep breathing for me.” The doctor moves around me, her voice calm and steady, but I barely register her words.
My mind is elsewhere, still trapped in the endless hours of solitude. This doesn’t feel real; it’s as if it’s happening to someone else entirely.
And the problem is, I understand why it had to be this way. From the snippets of information that Isabella has been able to get to me, the war has been brutal and dangerous, and absolutely no place for a pregnant woman.
I’ve had so much time to think about it. Hell, I’ve had too much time to think about all of it. And yes, I see the logic in keeping me out of harm's way.
But what about the father-to-be? What about the man who should be here right now?
A groan of pain worms itself out of my mouth as the contraction comes to a ruthless conclusion.
“There you go,” the doctor praises me as I pant with my entire chest. “You’re doing great. Drink some water, okay?”
It’s just the two of us, but she’s already prepared everything in the medical suite. I reach for the plastic cup eagerly, letting the cool liquid soothe the back of my aching throat.
I can endure this. If this is happening, if it’s real. If I’m about to give birth in a bunker, miles away from everyone I love, I will endure it.
Because all I’ve done these last four months is endure. And this pain is temporary, but the grief I hold for my father will stay with me for the rest of my life.
I’ve endured the replaying of memories. The cadence of my father’s laughter, the sternness of his absolute authority just waiting for me to undermine. The familiarity of his hands.
I’ll never be able to hold them and tell him just how much I love him despite all of his flaws. I’ll never be able to whisper that he could never do anything that would ever be enough for me to turn away from him forever.
He’s gone.
Grief isn’t sharp anymore. It’s dulled, like an ache in old wounds, but it’s constant.
“I don’t want to be alone,” I whisper, the words echoing the tragic voice of my lonely soul aren’t meant for the doctor. But she reaches for my hand anyway.
“You are so brave. You’re doing so well. I’m here. I’m not much, but you can pretend I’m whoever you need me to be.”
And really, there’s only one person I need to be here.
For months, I’ve tried to convince myself that our relationship doesn’t matter, not in the face of everything else.
But the truth is, it does. The truth is, Leon has been important to me since the moment he kissed my hand at the altar.
And maybe it is one-sided. Maybe he’s never seen me as anything more than a means to an end.
But I can’t ignore the way I long for him now in my most desperate moments. I can’t ignore the way I light up just at the memory of his touch. I can’t forget that despite everything, despite my isolation, despite his absence, despite my father and a war and Amos Rubio….
I’m not going to stop loving him.
“Mrs. Natali,” the doctor says gently, breaking through my thoughts. “We’re up to four centimeters now. Things are moving quite quickly, okay? So take a breath whenever you can.”
The contractions are closer together now, their intensity sharpening. I grip the edge of the bed, trying to steady my breathing, but my chest tightens with panic.
Does Leon even know?
He’s been out there, fighting a war for months, risking his life to keep me safe.
Every day I’ve been in this bunker, I’ve feared the news of his death. Some nights, I’ve woken from nightmares where his bloodied body was the last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me whole.
“Focus on your breathing,” the doctor says, her hands on my arm.
I nod but don’t answer. My thoughts are too loud, too chaotic.
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.”
“Look at them,” I find myself choking out in amazement. “They’re here. They’re so real. Hello. Hello. I’m your mama. Hi baby, hi. This is your papa.”
Leon turns back to me. He brushes a damp strand of hair from my face, his eyes shimmering. “This is our family.”
I can feel my face crumpling under his gaze. “God, Leon. I want that so badly. Can you just…pretend for a moment? Please, I need you so much.”
My hands reach up to wipe at my face, only to be captured gently by my wrists.
“Why would I pretend?” he says so softly. “I want this too. Mia, I’ve been in love with you for months. This is it for me.”
My breath catches. “Stop it. Don’t be cruel.”
“My entire world is here on this bed. I don’t want anything else.”
My heart shatters and rebuilds in the same breath. Tears stream down my face as I reach for him, pulling him close.
“I can’t lose you again,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Please, just stay.”
“I will,” he promises, his lips pressing softly to mine. “I will. Mia, please. Tell me, what are their names?”
I swallow back more tears as I gaze down at my two beautiful children.
“This is Elizabeth Rose,” I kiss her forehead before turning to my son. “And this is Luca Marco.”