Chapter 35 Ollie
ollie
Inside, I was a wreck. I gripped the steering wheel tighter than I should have as I navigated the streets to the hospital.
Every red light was like an eternity, every second that passed stretched unbearably long.
My heart raced, my mind a frantic mess, but I kept glancing at Nova, trying to seem calm for her sake.
When we pulled up to the hospital, I parked near the maternity and birthing ward, barely remembering to shut off the engine. I rushed around to her side, opening the door as she cried out.
“My stomach,” she whimpered, her voice tight with pain as she winced and reached for me.
“You’re doing so good,” I murmured, steadying her as I helped her out of the car, though my voice felt inadequate, like it could never truly reassure her.
Her contractions were coming faster, her breathing shallow as she gripped my arm for support. My pulse thundered in my ears as I tried to guide her as gently as possible, every step making it clear that this was happening.
She was about to give birth to another man’s baby—a fact I couldn’t ignore, no matter how much I wished I could. I looked at her, her face etched with pain and determination, and I knew it didn’t matter.
This wasn’t about biology. This wasn’t about her ex. This was about Nova, about the strength she carried despite everything she’d been through, about the life she was about to bring into the world.
I tightened my grip on her as another contraction hit, her wince pulling at my heart.
The woman I loved was about to do the impossible, and while the baby wasn’t mine, this moment wasn’t about ownership. It was about showing up, being present, and proving to her that I wasn’t going anywhere.
“I texted your Aunt Mae,” I said as we approached the doors of the hospital. “Luna is on her way and is bringing your bag.”
“Thank you.”
She looked so vulnerable in that moment—her face pale, her curls sticking to her damp forehead, her eyes glassy with pain and fear.
It struck me how much strength it must have taken for her to keep moving forward despite it all.
I guided her gently, silently promising myself I would never be the man who let her go through this alone.
Letting her be alone at a time when she needed me the most was unthinkable.
Inside, a midwife approached with a polite smile, swiftly offering a wheelchair. I helped Nova into the chair, her hands gripping the armrests as another contraction hit.
The midwife asked a few questions as we made our way to the birthing suite, her soothing tone cutting through the tension. “You’re doing brilliantly.” She reassured Nova as we entered the lift.
In the room, it was quick, but careful. They got her onto the bed, hooked up monitors, and offered her water. The steady thrum of the baby’s heartbeat filled the space.
I stayed close, taking her hand in mine. “You’re not alone, love. I’m here.”
She squeezed back weakly. “I don’t even know what I’m going to name her.”
I rubbed her hand with my thumb, trying to steady both of us. “We’ll figure it out.”
She nodded weakly, but then cried out as another contraction tore through her, her grip on my hand tightening like a vise.
She was right—I would never see her the same after this. But it wasn’t in the way she feared. I’d see her incredible strength, the kind of resilience that left me in awe.
When the contraction subsided, tears spilled from her eyes. “I miss Mami.”
“Tell me about her,” I said softly as a nurse adjusted the monitors nearby.
“She was amazing. So strong, and she always saw the good in everyone. She would’ve been so happy for the baby. She wanted to be an abuela so badly.”
“She is an abuela. You’ll teach this baby girl about her strength, her loyalty, and her beauty. Mami will live on through her.”
Her tears fell faster, and I squeezed her hand tighter, silently promising her that she wasn’t alone in this.
The pains came like waves, each one stronger and more consuming than the last. Nova’s cries sharpened, her body folding in on itself with every contraction.
It tore at me to see her like this—so strong yet so vulnerable—battling through something I couldn’t physically take from her.
Luna arrived not long after, bringing her large energy and a tennis ball in hand.
She pressed it into Nova’s lower back, pinpointing the spots that offered the faintest relief.
We took turns, always trading places so she was never without someone beside her. Never alone. Not for a moment.
Day turned into night, and Nova clung to whatever she could—my arm, the sheets, Luna’s hand—her face glistening with sweat. I stayed close, my hand in hers whenever she reached for me.
At one point, my mum called. Her warm voice filled the room as I held the phone to Nova’s ear, giving her a small piece of comfort.
“How’s my future granddaughter doing?” Mum asked, her words laced with care.
Nova managed a small, breathless smile despite the pain, her hand brushing her stomach. “She’s doing her best to kill me,” she said jokingly.
Later, Aunt Mae FaceTimed. She joked that Nova had the same determined face she’d had as a little girl, but the levity was short-lived as another contraction hit. Nova’s grip on my hand tightened, her head falling back, her gasp slicing through the air.
The midwife returned, her calm presence a steadying force in the chaos. “Would you like the epidural now?”
“Yes. Please.”
When the epidural took effect, Nova’s body finally relaxed, her breathing evening out as the pain subsided. Her face softened, her exhaustion clear, but for the first time in hours, she found a sliver of peace. She drifted into a light sleep, her hand still loosely gripping mine.
I stayed there, brushing my thumb over her knuckles, watching the rise and fall of her chest. I couldn’t leave her side.
Ever. Seeing her go through this cemented something in me—I would never let her face anything alone.
Whatever it took, I’d be here. Through the pain, through the fear, through everything.
This woman—the woman I loved—was doing the impossible, and I was in awe of her strength. Even in her most vulnerable moments, she was extraordinary.
Luna glanced at me, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, and quietly made her way to the little cot in the corner.
She sat down slowly, rubbing her hands over her face before looking up at me. “Thank you.”
I frowned, confused for a moment, until a tear slipped down her cheek, catching in the corner of her tired smile. “Thank you for loving Nova the way she deserves.”
“It’s easy to love her,” I murmured, my gaze fixed on her peaceful face as she slept.
Luna shook her head, her eyes dark with emotion.
“No, you don’t get it. You weren’t there.
You didn’t witness what he did to her. What happened.
You have no idea how broken she became after her mum.
After Austin.” Her voice cracked, and she wiped at her cheek, another tear escaping.
“I was so scared for her. I was scared she was going to die.”
I stood and walked over, sitting next to Luna on the small cot. Gently, I rubbed her shoulder. “You are truly the best friend, Luna. I can’t imagine seeing all that, let alone pulling her through it.”
Luna offered a small smile, glancing over at Nova, still sleeping in the bed. “She’s my twin flame. We were meant for each other.” With a dramatic sigh, she added, “Even if she won’t fuck me.”
I rolled my eyes, the corner of my mouth lifting in a reluctant smirk. “She’s lucky to have you.”
Luna gestured toward the bed. “You should rest there. You’ve been at this for hours.”
I shook my head. “No, you sleep. I’ll take the chair.”
She didn’t argue, just nodded and leaned back against the cot, her eyes fluttering closed.
I sat in the chair, my gaze moving between Nova and Luna. Two women who loved each other fiercely, who had weathered the worst storms life could throw at them.
Awe didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. As the exhaustion finally pulled me under, I closed my eyes, still feeling the weight of their strength in the quiet room.
I jolted awake to the midwife standing over me. “It’s time to push.”
“Oh shit,” I muttered, blinking rapidly and sitting up. “Already?”
The room was a flurry of movement, but Nova looked . . . better. The exhaustion and strain weren’t gone, but there was a focus in her, a strength that hadn’t been there before. Luna, of course, was perched near the bed, casually finishing Nova’s makeup like she had all the time in the world.
“We didn’t want to wake you,” Nova murmured.
“You were drooling.” Luna laughed.
I ignored her, getting up quickly and moving to stand beside Nova. She reached for me, and I gripped her hand tightly.
The midwife moved into position. “Alright, Nova, when the next contraction comes, I need you to take a deep breath and push with everything you’ve got, okay?”
Nova nodded, squeezing my hand, her jaw set.
“You’ve got this,” I whispered, leaning in close to her ear. “You’re incredible, love. Just take it one step at a time.”
Luna came around the other side, her hand resting lightly on Nova’s shoulder. “You’re about to meet your baby, Nove. You’ve got this.”
The contraction must’ve hit because Nova’s face twisted in pain. She bore down, pushing with all her strength. The room filled with the quiet encouragement of the midwife.
A few more nurses entered quietly, wheeling in a small cot for the baby.
This was real. This was happening.
The midwife encouraged her again. “That’s it, Nova. You’re doing brilliantly. One more big push.”
I leaned down, brushing damp strands of hair away from her face. “You’re so strong,” I whispered, my voice cracking slightly as I kissed her temple. “You’re incredible, love.”
Nova’s face twisted in determination as the contraction hit full force. She let out a guttural cry, pushing harder than before. Luna stood on her other side, her hand resting firmly on Nova’s shoulder, murmuring quiet encouragement.
“Here we go,” the midwife said. “I can see the head. Keep going, Nova. You’re almost there.”
My heart pounded in my chest as Nova cried out again, her body trembling with the effort. The nurses moved quickly, preparing everything they needed, but all I could focus on was her—the sheer strength and courage she was showing.
“You’re so close. A little more.”
Nova gritted her teeth and pushed one final time, her body taut with effort. As if the whole world held its breath, the room filled with the sound of a tiny, piercing cry.
“She’s here,” the midwife announced. “Your baby girl is here.”
As the first cries of the baby filled the room, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I dropped my head to Nova’s, wrapping my arms tightly around her as I cradled her. “You did so good,” I murmured. “I’m so proud of you, love. So proud.”
Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling as the adrenaline ebbed away. Her hand found mine, clutching it with a strength that surprised me. “I did it,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I did it.”
“You did.”
The midwife brought the baby up, carefully placing her on Nova’s chest. I leaned back to see, my breath catching at the sight. This tiny life, pink and wriggling, with the softest cries that quieted as she settled against her mum’s warmth.
Nova reached up with trembling hands to cradle her daughter, her expression shifting into something indescribable. Awe. Love. Relief. It was all there, written across her face.
I wiped my cheeks instinctively, thinking it was sweat, only to realize they were soaked with tears. Luna leaned in, brushing her hand over Nova’s hair and gazing down at the baby.
“She’s perfect,” Luna whispered, her voice catching as she reached out, her fingers brushing the baby’s tiny hand.
I stepped back for a moment, reaching for my phone. “You’ll want this photo,” I said, my voice still unsteady as I captured the moment—Nova holding her daughter for the first time, with Luna leaning close, their faces glowing with joy and love.
I lowered the phone, taking in the scene again, realizing that nothing could ever compare to this. Nothing.
“Dad, you want to cut the cord?” the midwife asked, holding the scissors out to me.
“Not the dad.” A small smile tugged at my lips as I gestured to Luna. “She is.”
Nova burst into laughter, and Luna grinned, stepping forward proudly. The midwife looked confused, but handed Luna the scissors anyway.
Luna snipped the cord with an exaggerated flourish and turned to me, patting my back with a wink. “Thanks for putting me in, Coach.”
The nurses gently took the baby from Nova to clean her up, and Luna followed closely. I stayed at Nova’s side, her hand still holding mine as the midwife quietly worked to clean her up.
“Do you see me any differently?”
“Yes,” I answered honestly, meeting her gaze.
Her face fell slightly.
“I see you stronger than I ever have,” I continued, leaning down to press my lips to hers.
Her expression softened, and I shifted closer, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead. “She’s got curly hair,” I murmured, hoping to distract her from the discomfort of what the midwife was doing.
Nova’s lips curved faintly, her hand tightening on mine. “Austin has curly hair, too. I’m not surprised.”
Any other time, jealousy might have crept in—envy for what Austin had been a part of. Yet, as I stood here with Nova, experiencing this with her and knowing he was missing all of it because of his own choices, there was no room for jealousy.
I had it all. I had her. I had what he’d given up.