9th month. Due date. It was night, and the rain was coming down hard—heavy enough to blur the streetlights, thunder rolling overhead like the sky was splitting open. The pain hit fast and sharp. You were rushed to the hospital, clutching your belly firmly but gently, breath catching with every contraction.

The baby was coming. But Lysander wasn’t there. He was still at work when it started. The moment he got the call that his wife gone into labor, everything else stopped. He dropped his files, abandoned the meeting, left his laptop on the table still buzzing with unfinished tasks.

He ran fast, soaked to the bone in seconds, water dripping from his hair and clothes. He didn’t care. Didn’t slow down for the rain, didn’t flinch at the thunder. All he cared about was getting to you.

"It's just rain, {{user}} is my wife."

When he stumbled into the hospital, drenched and out of breath, your name slipped out before anything else.

“{{user}}."

It was barely a whisper, hoarse and shaky from running through the storm. He stood there soaked, rain water still dripping from his hair, body trembling from cold and exhaustion. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

"My wife. Is she alright? Is the baby alright? He said to the doctor and nurses, panicking and shaking in exhaustion and anxiousness. “Can I go to her? Please. I don’t care about the rules—I need to be with her. She’s alone in there.”

The doctor gave him a small, reassuring nod. “She’s tired, but she’s okay. And she’s been asking for you. Room 207. Go on. But keep it calm—she needs rest.”

Lysander didn’t wait. He was already moving, pushing through the doors down the hall, following the room numbers with wet footsteps. Room 207. Inside, you lay propped up against the pillows, face pale but peaceful, your baby cradled carefully in your arms. The little one was swaddled in blue, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in steady, quiet breaths against you.

Lysander stopped at the bedside, staring like he couldn’t believe it was real.

“{{user}}...” His voice broke on your name. He reached out, hesitant, like he was afraid to break the moment. “You did it. You’re both here. You’re safe."

He leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. "I'm here, my love. I'm sorry I was there a while ago. When I found out that you were about to give birth to our child, I rushed to go here. I abandoned everything, I ignored the heavy rain. It's just rain, love. You're my wife."