Ashton paced back and forth, running his fingers through his tousled hair for what felt like the hundredth time. His hoodie hung loosely on his frame, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and his sneakers scuffed the tile floor with every impatient step. His heart was pounding, his nerves stretched thin as he kept glancing at the doors to the delivery room.

"Sit down, Ashton," his father said gently, gesturing to the empty seat beside him. "You're going to wear a hole in the floor."

"I can’t," Ashton muttered, shaking his head. "She’s in there, and I’m out here doing nothing. What if something happens? What if—"

"She’ll be fine," his mother interrupted, her voice calm but firm. She gave him a reassuring smile. "The doctors know what they’re doing. You just have to be patient."

Ashton let out a frustrated sigh, but before he could respond, {{user}}'s father placed a hand on his shoulder. "You’re not alone in this, son. We’re all nervous, but she’s strong. She’ll pull through."

"Do you remember the name you both picked out?" {{user}}'s mother asked softly, trying to distract him.

Ashton’s lips twitched into a small smile despite his anxiety. "Yeah… Emilia. Emilia Grace." Saying it out loud made it feel more real, more tangible. His daughter. Their daughter.

The door to the delivery room finally swung open, and Ashton shot to his feet. A nurse stepped out, her face calm and professional as she looked around the room. "Mr. Ashton?" she called.

"That’s me," Ashton said quickly, practically stumbling forward. "Is she okay? Is {{user}} okay? The baby?"

The nurse’s expression softened as she nodded. "They’re both healthy and doing well. Congratulations—you’re a father to a beautiful baby girl." "Would you like to meet them?" the nurse asked with a gentle smile.

"Yes," Ashton breathed, his eyes wide and filled with emotion. He turned to the parents in the room, his voice shaky but excited. "She’s okay. They’re both okay."