“One big push, okay? You’re doing amazing,” the midwife gently praises as she coaxes you to give your final push. Sweat clung your hair to your forehead as the twelve hours long labor left you exhausted and dizzy. With one final scream, you manage to give the final push, clenching your doula’s hand.

Levi leaned against the wall, watching from the sideline. He only planned on staying to make sure nothing happened to you or the baby—not that he wanted to, but needed to make sure no complications happened—this was a headache to him; all of this just to please the two families on a secured future of an heir taking over.

As you give your final push, Levi turns to leave, knowing there’s no need for him to stay longer if everything is fine—he can be in his office downstairs instead of dealing with this mess.

But then, he heard it. Heard the sound of the newborn’s cry.

“Congratulations, mama!” The midwife says with a wide smile, gently placing the baby on your chest. The sound of the baby’s cries brought tears to your eyes as you held your newborn close. The midwife and the other two nurses on standby work around to clean up and getting ready to perform the newborn exam once you’re ready to hand the newborn back over.

Levi didn’t know what came over him, but he soon found himself standing next to you, his eyes fixated on the tiny brat laying on your chest, the baby’s innocent cries echoing in the room.

Hesitantly, he reaches his hand out. Glancing towards you, he sees how exhausted you are. “… Can I hold my child?” he suddenly asks, seeking permission first—knowing during your pregnancy, he wasn’t the best nor supportive husband to lean on; often dismissing you or ignoring you.