Chapter 139

**ARIA**

At first, I thought it was just another false alarm. The contractions had been coming all day, sometimes sharp, sometimes faint, like a rhythm I couldn’t quite dance to. I told myself I could handle it. That if I closed my eyes and breathed through the pain, it would pass.

It didn’t.

By late evening, they were stronger, stealing my breath and leaving me clutching the sheets. Adam sat beside me, blue eyes narrowed in concentration, as if he could will the pain out of me by sheer force. Austin paced like a caged wolf, running his hands through his hair every thirty seconds.

“I’m fine,” I told them for what must have been the tenth time. “Really. It’s still irregular—”

And then my water broke.

The sound—more of a splat than anything—was followed by a sudden gush of warmth, soaking through the sheets. Adam froze, eyes wide. Austin stopped mid-pace and spun around like I’d just set off a bomb.

“Oh no,” I muttered. “Here we go.”

“Was that—? Did that just—?” Adam stammered, pointing at the bed as if the evidence wasn’t clear enough.

Austin’s eyes went comically wide. “She’s leaking!”

“I am not leaking,” I snapped between clenched teeth. “My water broke. It’s called childbirth. You might have heard of it.”

That set them both in motion. Adam grabbed the overnight bag we’d half-prepared weeks ago, his hands moving so fast he zipped and unzipped it three times before deciding he’d forgotten something. Austin was already barking orders into his phone, demanding that the gynecologist meet us in the infirmary now.

Meanwhile, another contraction hit, and I doubled over, gripping Adam’s arm. “Forget the bag. Just get me there!”

The walk to the infirmary felt endless, even though Adam practically carried me while Austin cleared the halls ahead of us. Every step sent another bolt of pain through me, sharper now, more insistent. My body wasn’t asking anymore—it was commanding.

The gynecologist, Dr. Marin, met us at the door, calm as ever in her white coat. “Perfect timing,” she said briskly, ushering us inside. “Let’s get you settled.”

Her calmness was both infuriating and comforting. I wanted to scream, but instead, I obeyed. Within minutes, I was lying on a hospital bed, monitors beeping steadily around me.

“You’re fully dilated,” Dr. Marin announced after a quick check. “These babies are ready.”

Adam looked like he might faint. Austin’s jaw tightened, his knuckles white where he gripped the side rail of my bed.

“Breathe,” Dr. Marin instructed. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Let your body guide you.”

I glared at her. “Easy for you to say—you’re not the one splitting in half!”

She only smiled knowingly. “Trust me, Aria. You’ve got this.”

The contractions came hard and fast now, crashing over me like waves I couldn’t resist. I gritted my teeth, pushed when told, and tried not to scream too loudly.

“Adam, cold cloth,” Dr. Marin ordered. He scrambled to comply, fumbling so badly that the cloth slipped out of his hand and landed on the floor.

“Not sterile,” she chided gently. “Try again.”

Austin handed me water, then panicked when I spilled some down my front. “I’ll get more! Stay here—no, wait—”

“Both of you,” I growled between pushes, “stop acting like it’s your first labor. Focus!”

They straightened instantly, like schoolboys caught misbehaving.

After what felt like a lifetime—but was probably less than an hour—Dr. Marin’s voice cut through the haze. “I can see the head. One more big push, Aria.”

I bore down with every ounce of strength I had. The room filled with the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard: the wail of my first son.

Dr. Marin lifted him carefully, wrapping him in a blanket before placing him on my chest. Tears blurred my vision as I touched his tiny face. Dark tufts of hair, scrunched little features, a cry that seemed far too strong for something so small.

Adam’s hand shook as he brushed the baby’s head. Austin leaned over, his eyes shining, his lips trembling into a smile he couldn’t contain.

“Hello, little one,” I whispered, heart overflowing.

But there wasn’t time to linger. Another contraction hit, sharper than before.

Dr. Marin looked at me with calm determination. “Baby number two is waiting.”

“Of course they are,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

The second delivery was harder. The contractions were relentless, my body exhausted from the first, but there was no turning back. I pushed, cried, cursed, even laughed deliriously when Adam tried to wipe my forehead and nearly poked me in the eye.

“Sorry!” he yelped.

“Just…stay out of the way,” I gasped, gripping Austin’s hand so tightly he winced.

“Break it if you have to,” he told me. “I don’t care.”

That gave me the strength I needed. One final push, a scream torn from my throat, and then—another cry filled the room.

The second twin.

Dr. Marin placed him in Adam’s arms first, and I swear I’d never seen Adam look so undone. His blue eyes glistened with tears as he carried the baby to me.

“Two healthy boys,” Dr. Marin confirmed. “Congratulations.”

They were perfect. Both of them. Tiny, wriggling, loud, alive. I held them against me, one on each arm, and for the first time since this nightmare began, I felt peace.

Adam pressed his forehead to mine, whispering, “You’re incredible.”

Austin kissed my temple, murmuring, “I’ve never loved you more.”

I laughed weakly, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I did all the work, and you two look more exhausted than me.”

Adam chuckled shakily. “We’ll recover.”

Austin grinned. “Eventually.”

Dr. Marin busied herself with the aftercare, her calm efficiency grounding me. The boys were cleaned, weighed, and declared strong. When they were returned to me, swaddled like little burritos, I felt whole.

The comical chaos of earlier slowly melted into quiet awe. Adam and Austin hovered like hawks, fumbling with blankets, arguing over who would change the first diaper, both utterly overwhelmed but so fiercely present.

I watched them, my heart swelling. For all their strength and power, they were utterly undone by two tiny lives.

As for me, exhaustion pulled at every bone, but I couldn’t stop smiling. The danger wasn’t gone, the prophecy wasn’t fulfilled, but right here, right now—we had won.

And holding my sons, I knew with certainty that no force, not even Alaric himself, could break us.