Free Web NovelChapter 142: Chapter 142
Epilogue frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
Few months later, I was massive. Thirty-two weeks pregnant and waddling like a penguin. The nursery was finished—sage green walls, Christian’s handmade furniture, shelves full of books, and tiny clothes organized by size.
Everything was ready except one thing: we still hadn’t picked a name.
"We’ve narrowed it down," I said one evening, lying in bed with Christian’s hand on my very active belly. "Three boy names, three girl names. Why can’t we just decide?"
"Maybe we need to meet them first." Christian rubbed my stomach as the baby kicked. "Sometimes you just know when you see them."
"That’s very zen of you."
He kissed my temple. "I’m serious. We’ll know."
At thirty-eight weeks, I woke up at 3 AM with a weird cramping in my lower back. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but it kept coming in waves.
After an hour of this, reality hit me.
"Christian." I shook his shoulder. "Christian, wake up."
"Mmm?" He was immediately alert, alpha instincts kicking in. "What’s wrong?"
"I think I’m in labor."
He shot upright like he’d been electrocuted. "What?"
"Contractions. I think."
He grabbed his phone and downloaded a contraction timer app while I breathed through another wave of cramping. We started tracking them—fifteen minutes apart, thirty seconds long.
"Diana said not to come until they’re five minutes apart," Christian said, but his hand was shaking while holding the phone.
"I know." I squeezed his hand through another contraction. "We wait."
We sat in bed, neither of us able to sleep, tracking contractions and talking about how our lives were about to entirely change.
By 8 AM, contractions were seven minutes apart and actually hurt. I had to stop and breathe through each one, gripping Christian’s hand hard enough to bruise.
Christian called Diana. "Contractions are seven minutes apart... Yeah, she’s okay... Okay, we’ll wait for five minutes."
"I’m taking a shower," I announced. "While I still can."
Christian hovered outside the bathroom like I might slip and die. When I emerged, he’d made breakfast—my favorite pancakes that I couldn’t even think about eating.
By 11 AM, my water broke while I was walking to the bathroom.
"Okay," I said, staring at the puddle on the floor. "That’s new."
Christian practically carried me to the car. He’d packed my hospital bag three weeks ago, constantly checking and rechecking it.
The drive to the medical office was surreal. We were about to meet our baby. This was actually happening.
"Breathe," Christian said, holding my hand while driving. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."
"I know how to breathe."
"Just reminding you."
Another contraction hit, and I squeezed his hand so hard he winced.
Diana met us at the entrance, completely calm. "Right on time. Let’s get you checked."
The birthing room was nice—soft lighting, a comfortable bed, everything Diana might need arranged neatly. Diana examined me and smiled.
"Six centimeters. Active labor. The baby should be here in six to eight hours."
Christian went pale. "Eight hours?"
"Could be less. Could be more. Every labor is different." Diana patted his arm. "You’re going to be fine."
The next few hours were a blur of contractions and breathing and Christian’s steady presence beside me. He never left, never complained when I squeezed his hand hard enough to hurt.
Marcus and Eleanor waited outside. The whole pack probably knew by now.
"You’re doing amazing," Christian kept saying. "So strong. So brave."
"I’m dying," I panted through a contraction.
"You’re not dying. You’re bringing our baby into the world."
After what felt like forever, the contractions got closer together and way more intense. I was exhausted and hurting and ready to be done.
"I can’t do this," I told Christian. "I’m too tired."
He cupped my face, making me look at him. "Yes, you can. You’re the strongest person I know. You can do anything."
"Christian—"
"I believe in you. Always have. Always will."
Diana checked me again. "You’re fully dilated. Time to push."
Oh God. This was it.
They helped me get positioned. Diana explained when and how to push. Christian stayed at my side, supporting me, whispering encouragement. fгeewebnovёl.com
The first push felt like my body was splitting in half.
"Good!" Diana said. "That was perfect. Rest until the next contraction."
We did this for forty-five minutes. Pushing, resting, pushing again. Christian was telling me how amazing I was. Diana said I was almost there.
"One more big push," Diana instructed. "The baby’s crowning. You’ve got this, Sophie."
I gathered every bit of strength I had left and pushed with everything in me.
Pressure released. Relief. And then—crying.
A baby crying.
Diana lifted a tiny, squirming infant onto my chest. "It’s a boy!"
I stared at our son in complete shock. He was real. He was here. He was perfect.
Christian was sobbing, touching our baby’s tiny hand. "Sophie. Look at him."
"I see him." My voice came out choked. "He’s ours."
Diana worked quietly, checking the baby while he lay on my chest. "He’s healthy. Perfect Apgar scores. Congratulations."
Christian cut the umbilical cord with shaking hands. We counted fingers and toes—all there. The baby had dark hair, Christian’s nose, and was gorgeous.
"He knows your voice," I whispered as the baby quieted when Christian spoke.
Christian touched our son’s tiny fingers, and they curled around Christian’s finger. Christian looked at me with tears streaming down his face.
"Alexander," Christian said. "He looks like an Alexander."
