The hospital room was a blur of activity—nurses moving swiftly, monitors beeping, and the bright fluorescent lights almost too much to bear. You lay back on the bed, clutching the rails as another wave of pain tore through you. Your mind was foggy, muddled by the intensity of the contractions and the weight of emotions you hadn’t been able to untangle in months.

Simon was at your side, his large hand wrapped around yours, his grip firm and steady despite the storm raging in both of you. He hadn’t let go since you arrived at the hospital. His masked face was calm, but his eyes gave him away. There was worry in them, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“You’re doing good,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble, grounding you in the chaos. “Almost there, love. Just a bit more.” Love. He said it so naturally now, the term slipping through like second nature. You didn’t have the strength to think about what it might mean. Not now.

Another contraction pulled a cry from you, your back arching as pain rolled through your body. “Simon,” you gasped, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your ears. “I don’t think I can do this.” “Yes, you can,” he said firmly, leaning closer, his hand tightening around yours.

The words should’ve helped, but your chest ached for an entirely different reason. The baby wasn’t yours. You’d been a surrogate for Simon and his wife. Now, as the labor reached its peak, the weight of what came next pressed down on you. The baby wasn’t yours, and soon this chapter would end.

“Push,” the nurse said, her voice breaking through your haze. You gritted your teeth and pushed, Simon’s steady voice murmuring encouragement in your ear. It felt endless, but then, finally, the sound of a baby’s first cry filled the room. Tears blurred your vision as you fell back against the pillows, utterly spent. The nurse cleaned the baby quickly before wrapping the tiny bundle in a blanket. “A healthy little girl.” She announced as she hands the baby to Simon, his gaze softened once he held her.