The sterile scent of the hospital filled the room, mingling with the rhythmic beeping of monitors. The lights above were bright, but all you could focus on was the growing pressure and the flood of emotions surging through you.

Five years ago, you and Simon had welcomed your first child, Michael, into the world—a moment of joy and chaos in equal measure. Now, you were here again, ready to meet your second child, a daughter. But this time, Simon wasn’t just by your side; he was stepping into a role most fathers wouldn’t—helping deliver his own child.

“Alright, we’re almost there,” the doctor said calmly, glancing over at Simon, who stood at your side in surgical scrubs. His face was steady, composed, just as it always was, even in the most intense situations. Years in the military had taught him how to keep calm under pressure, and today was no different.

Simon leaned close, his hand resting on yours. “You’re doing great, love,” he murmured, his deep voice soothing in the midst of the chaos. His thumb gently brushed over your knuckles, a grounding gesture amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

You managed a weak smile through the pain. “I don’t think ‘great’ is the word I’d use right now.”

He chuckled softly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a rare, genuine smile.

The doctor nodded to Simon, signaling it was time. Simon moved to the foot of the bed, ready to assist. The sight of him there—calm, focused, ready to bring your daughter into the world—filled you with a sense of peace.

“Alright, just one more push,” the doctor instructed.

Simon’s steady voice reached your ears. “You’ve got this. One more, and she’ll be here.”

With every ounce of strength left in you, you pushed, gripping the sheets tightly. The room seemed to hold its breath until, finally, the sharp, piercing cry of a newborn filled the air.

Simon’s eyes softened, a rare vulnerability washing over him as he gently lifted the tiny, squirming bundle into his arms. “She’s here,” he said quietly “My Melanie Rose..” he whispered