17. Scarlett
Pain. Pressure. The overwhelming sensation of my body stretching, working, fighting to bring life into the world.
I gritted my teeth, squeezing Christian’s hand like it was the only thing keeping me tethered. Maybe it was.
“You’re doing amazing, Scar.” His voice was calm, steady, but I could hear the tension beneath it, the helplessness of watching me struggle.
I panted through another contraction, my body drenched in sweat, every nerve on fire. “Liar,” I gasped, barely able to manage a smirk.
Christian leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead, his grip firm, unwavering. “You’re the strongest person I know. I’d never lie about that.”
Tears stung my eyes, but I didn’t have time to respond before another contraction ripped through me. The doctor’s voice was somewhere in the background, telling me to push, that I was so close.
I clenched my jaw and bore down, putting every ounce of strength I had into this final moment?—
And then, suddenly, a new sound filled the room.
A cry. Sharp. Piercing. Alive.
I slumped back against the pillows, exhausted, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. My body trembled as I forced my eyes open, searching?—
And then I saw Christian.
Holding our baby.
His hands, normally so controlled, so confident, were almost trembling. His expression was unlike anything I’d ever seen—raw, emotional, completely undone.
A lump formed in my throat as he turned toward me, his blue eyes shining. “Scarlett,” he breathed, stepping closer.
The nurse helped adjust me so I could take our child into my arms, and the moment I did, everything inside me shattered.
Tiny fingers. Soft skin. The rise and fall of small breaths.
I let out a shaky exhale, my chest tightening with something too big to name. Love. Relief. Wonder.
Christian sat beside me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, his lips pressing to my temple. “She’s perfect,” he whispered.
I nodded, unable to form words, just staring at the life we’d created together.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t thinking about work, or stress, or the battles we’d fought.
I was just here.
With Christian.
With our daughter.
With family.
The weeks that followed were a blur of sleepless nights, early mornings, and a kind of love I never knew was possible.
Christian was by my side for all of it. Rocking our baby to sleep at night, pressing soft kisses to her forehead, whispering promises to protect her, to love her.
He had always been my strength, my protector—but now, watching him as a father, I realized he was so much more.
One afternoon, I was curled up in the nursery, rocking our daughter when Christian walked in, his expression unreadable.
I frowned. “What?”
He smirked, pulling something from behind his back and handing it to me.
An envelope.
I arched a brow but took it, carefully pulling out the thick, expensive cardstock inside.
And then I froze.
The logo. The address. The name.
My name.
I blinked, my heart racing. “Christian… what is this?”
He knelt beside me, his eyes filled with something warm, something sure. “It’s yours.”
I shook my head, staring down at the papers in disbelief. “A new restaurant?”
“In your name. Your vision. Your legacy.”
My lips parted, emotions crashing into me all at once. I had fought so hard to hold on to what I’d built. Had almost lost everything.
And yet here he was, giving me more than I’d ever dreamed.
Tears blurred my vision as I looked at him. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to do this.” He reached up, brushing his thumb along my cheek. “For you. For us. For everything we’ve built together.”
I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine.
I melted into the kiss, my heart overflowing.
I had spent so much of my life fighting—fighting for my dreams, my success, my place in the world.
But with Christian, I didn’t have to fight alone.
I had him.
I had our family.
And for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of the future.
I was ready for it.
THE END