Chapter 14: The Birth
Elias was born on a rainy Tuesday morning in early spring.
The labor was long and difficult, but my father stayed with me the entire time. When the doctor finally placed my son in my arms, I cried harder than I had in years.
He was perfect.
Ten fingers, ten toes, and a strong, healthy cry. He had my nose and Evan’s dark eyes. Looking at him, I felt a fierce, protective love I had never experienced before.
My father stood beside the bed, looking down at his grandson with soft eyes.
“He’s beautiful,” he said quietly.
I nodded, unable to speak.
Later that night, after the nurses had taken Elias for a checkup, my father sat with me in the hospital room.
“You did it,” he said. “You protected him. You protected yourself.”
I looked at my father — the man who had shown up when I needed him most, who had helped me fight when I was too scared to fight alone.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I said.
He shook his head.
“You could have,” he replied. “But I’m glad I was here.”
We sat in silence for a while. Then my father spoke again, his voice gentle.
“What are you going to do now?”
I looked out the window at the rain.
“I’m going to raise my son,” I said. “I’m going to keep working at the hospital. And I’m going to make sure Bennett Clinical Supply stays in good hands.”
My father nodded, satisfied.
“And Evan?”
I was quiet for a moment.
“I’m going to let him go,” I said. “Not because he deserves it, but because I deserve peace. I don’t want to carry anger for the rest of my life.”
My father reached over and squeezed my hand.
“You’ve grown up,” he said. “More than I realized.”
May you like
I smiled tiredly.
“I had to.”
