31. The Survivor
The Survivor
Chapter 31
Three Months Later
The sterile white delivery room seemed to blur and swirl as another contraction sent pain cascading through my body, a tidal force that left me gasping, clutching desperately at the steel railings of the hospital bed. My world had narrowed down to the crushing pressure in my belly, causing me to grit my teeth and scream. The pain was a living thing, an entity that gripped me from the inside out, demanding everything from me. At the end of it, however, we would have our daughter, and that was worth it all.
“You’re doing great, Little Red. Just breathe.” Ethan’s voice was an anchor in the midst of the storm raging through me, his calloused hand giving me something better to squeeze. “Almost there,” he whispered, his light blue eyes locking onto mine. “And then she’ll be here.”
Not looking away from him, I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt, crying out through my clenched teeth. Still, his presence was unwavering, every squeeze of his hand a lifeline back to him, to us, to the life we had forged from the ashes of our haunted pasts. It calmed me.
“Focus on me, love.” Hand sliding up my cheek, he brushed a strand of hair from my sweat-drenched forehead and kissed me. “I’m right here. We're in this together, just like always.”
I drew in a shuddering breath, trying to steady the tremors that racked up my body, but as soon as I calmed, another contraction ripped through me.
“It’s time to push, Scarlett.” Getting into position, the doctor placed her hand on my belly. “With your next contraction, I need you to bare down and push as hard as you can.”
And then I pushed, not just against the physical barrier, but against the remnants of the woman I used to be—the one who believed she was unworthy of love, undeserving of happiness. With Ethan’s hand in mine, encouraging me with his words, I pressed my chin to my chest and pushed.
My daughter’s first cry pierced the sterile air, the sweet sound heralding the end of one journey and the beginning of another. As a storm of emotions more powerful than anything I had ever experienced flooded through me, leaving me a trembling, sobbing mess, a tiny wriggling baby with a head of thick black hair was placed on my chest.
Ethan leaned closer, his eyes glassy as his fingers trailed across her cheek—so unbelievably gentle for such a lethal man. “She’s perfect, Little Red. Just like you.”
“Congratulations, Mom and Dad,” the doctor said with a smile. “She’s beautiful.”
“Hello, my little Adelaide,” I whispered, touching her tiny fingers, making sure there were ten.
The nurse handed Ethan a pair of surgical scissors. “Whenever you’re ready, Dad, you can cut the cord.”
For a man who had spent most of his life with a heart made of steel, his hands trembled as he reached down and cut the cord connecting our baby to me. There was so much more tenderness inside him than even he was willing to admit, but it was why I loved him as much as I did.
Tears blurred my vision as I held our daughter in my arms, with Ethan’s cheek a mere breath away. It was not from pain or sorrow, but from an overwhelming sense of fulfillment. I had carried and nurtured this precious life within me, and now she was here, the physical embodiment of everything Ethan and I had forged together. The ghosts of my past, once shackled to my every step, seemed to dissipate in the reflection of her dark and inquisitive eyes. The rest did not matter anymore. With the enemies gone or locked away, we could finally move on with our lives as a family, no longer overshadowed by darkness. With Adelaide, in came the light.