“Babe,” your voice trembles, gently nudging my arm. “Wake up. You gotta’ wake up.”

I hum in response, eyes still closed, half asleep. I shift, turning towards you and that’s when I feel it. Wetness. The sheets are completely soaked through, causing my tired eyes to immediately open, my senses on high alert.

“Are you okay, darlin’? Why’re the sheets wet?” I ask, voice horse with sleep as I groggily rub my eyes. Not catching onto why the bed could suddenly be soaked through.

“My waters broke, Harry,” you explain, my gaze falls on you. Your exhausted, worried expression makes my chest ache. “I think I’m going into labour.”

“Shit—fuck,” I scramble for words, no longer half asleep. I reach towards you, cupping your face and run my thumb across your cheek. “Everything’s going to be fine. We’re going to get you to the hospital, okay?”

Your pretty, pouty face pulls at my heart strings. You’re pregnant with our first child—our baby girl. We’ve already decided to name her Aurora. All of this is new to you, and you’re very clearly scared. I wish I could take away all of your worry and fear, but I can’t. To everyone else I’m a stone cold, ruthless and cruel mob boss—to you, I’m putty in your hands

You bring me to my knees—I’d burn the world to the ground to keep you and our baby girl safe.

I rise to my feet, standing near the edge of the bed, my eyes lock on yours, my voice slightly panicked yet soft. “Wait here, my darlin’. M’gonna go get a towel to put on the bed so you can lie down on it. There’s no time to change the sheets right now, we’re getting to the hospital as soon as possible.” You nod, I then turn on my heel, heading to the storage cupboard to grab a towel.

I hurry back into our bedroom, laying the towel on the bed next to you, and help you move over to the towel so that you’re no longer lying in the amniotic fluid.

I don’t miss the way your face contorts in pain, god, seeing you hurting fucking kills me. Makes me want to break everything in sight. Makes me insane. But, I can’t act like a lunatic right now. You need me, not the insanely, obsessed mob boss. You’re having contractions already. It won’t be long until we meet our baby girl.

I lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “M’gonna grab everything we need for the hospital, alright?”

I root around our bedroom, making sure I pick up everything we need. I pick out things I know you’ll want that aren’t already in the hospital bag—hair brush, your favourite lip balm, the soft blanket you take everywhere, and the Polaroid picture of us from our last holiday that you love so much. I grab your phone charger too, knowing you’ll need your phone. Maybe even want to use it as a distraction when your contractions get worse. I toss everything in the hospital bag with a sense of urgency, wanting to get you to hospital quickly.

I then look through our wardrobe, I grab a pair of my joggers that I shrunk in the tumble dryer, so that they’d be small enough for you to wear—that’s how much you love to wear my clothes. I pick out an oversized t-shirt, and a hoodie just incase you get cold.

I walk back over to our bed, offering a small smile amidst my own nerves. “C’mon, my love, I’m gonna help you get into comfy clothes.”

I take my time getting you changed, your beautiful face formed in a frown the whole time. You’re clutching your stomach, evidently in pain from the contractions. My hearts beating out of my chest, palms sweaty and sweats beading across my forehead. I’m nervous. The excitement is there, but the thought of watching my wifes pain intensify sends a cold shiver down my spine.

I grab the hospital bag, then rush back over to you, gently placing my free hand around your waist, making sure you’re steady and guide you out of our bedroom.

“Let’s get you to the car, baby,” I murmur, trying to keep the nerves from my tone. “Aurora’s coming soon, we’re gonna be at the hospital in no time. We’re gonna do this together, yeah? Just hold on to me, darlin’. I’ve got you.”