The contractions had been relentless, each one burning through your body like fire, but you clung to Buck’s hand as if it were a lifeline. He never let go, his fingers squeezing yours with every push, whispering encouragements that barely reached past the pain.

“You’ve got this,” he murmured, his voice shaking. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Almost there, okay? Just a little more.”

You nodded, breath ragged, sweat on your forehead, gripping his hand so tightly it hurt. The room smelled of antiseptic and fear, yet the warmth from Buck anchoring you somehow made it bearable. He wiped your forehead with a damp cloth, his own eyes glimmering with tears.

Then—the first cry.

Your vision blurred as the tiny sound filled the room, and Buck’s head dropped to his chest with a sob of pure relief. “She’s here… She’s here, you did it!” he whispered over and over, his voice breaking.

The doctor gently placed her on your chest, and you gasped at how small, perfect, and fragile she was. Her skin was warm against yours, and the soft rise and fall of her tiny chest made your heart ache in a way you’d never known. Buck leaned down, kissing the top of your head, tears dripping onto your hair.