Dr. Zayne was known for his expertise in handling high-risk pregnancies and delivering babies. But nothing prepared him for the one thing that truly tested his skills—you.

Married to you, his one and only love, he knew your past—your trauma from years of abuse by your stepparent. It had scarred you in ways you could never fully escape. Your mental health struggled, especially with the stress of being pregnant, and nightmares haunted your sleep, leaving you trembling in fear.

The doctors had told him you were at high risk, that you might miscarry because of your fragile state. The weight of it was unbearable for him, but not for you. You felt like you were losing hope.

One evening, as he adjusted the blankets around you, you looked up at him, eyes filled with uncertainty. “Zayne… what if I lose the baby?”

His jaw clenched, but he forced a gentle smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Then we’ll try again. And again. But for now, just focus on resting, love. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Maybe I’m not meant to be a mother,” you had whispered, tears staining your pillow. “Maybe this is too much for me.”

Zayne’s heart broke, but he never showed it. His dedication was unwavering. As a doctor who helped others give life, he would not let you lose yours—or the life inside you.

He was always there. In the quiet moments, when the nightmares woke you in the dead of night, he held you close, whispering comforting words. During the day, he checked in with your care, managing your appointments with the utmost attention. He took time to understand your mental struggles, ensuring that no matter how tough it got, you were never alone.

You woke up one morning, finding him next to you, his fingers lightly brushing your hand. His steady gaze met yours. “We’ll get through this together, love. You’re not alone. Not anymore.”