Rebirth: Love me Again

[EVE]

Dante's life had always revolved around the hospital and the occasional colleague he dated more out of convenience than emotion.

Dean's relationships changed more often than his hairstyles—new girlfriend one week, dramatic exit the next.

But Damien . . . Damien had been different.

He was the only one of my brothers who had taken love seriously. And though he never talked about it, I knew he had once been in love. I mean twice . . .

That girl, Kelsey, who had always seemed more in love with status than with him. And after her, there was Estelle—loud, quirky Estelle Fay Johnson.

What a small world.

And then, it was gone. Just like that.

He never explained what happened. But I noticed how he sometimes stared blankly out the window with a coffee in hand, like he was watching something replay over and over in his mind.

One time, I joined him on the terrace.

He was holding his usual morning cup of black coffee, his eyes distant, shoulders heavy. I leaned against the railing beside him, wrapping my sweater tighter over my belly.

"You should've said hello to her when we were still in New York," I said softly.

He didn't answer right away. Just took a long breath and exhaled slowly, like he was trying to let go of something he still didn't quite want to release.

Then he glanced at me with a small smile. "It's fine. I'll sort things out after you give birth."

He reached over and gently ruffled my hair like he always did.

"My priority right now is you," he said. "Always."

The sincerity in his voice nearly brought tears to my eyes.

It was touching.

But more than that, I hoped—truly hoped—that one day, his priority would be his own happiness too.

Because while I was endlessly grateful for everything they were doing for me, especially Damien . . . I wanted him to find his peace as well. His home. His person. His love.

The kind of love that didn't make him pause at the window with coffee and regret.

As much as I didn't want anything to do with anyone connected to Cole, I would still support Damien—if Estelle was truly the one he wanted.

====

Everything was fine, until . . . it happened.

Not the dramatic movie-style water-breaking while grocery shopping kind of moment.

Nope.

It was 3 AM. I was in bed. And I felt it—that cramp. Deep. Tight. Rhythmic.

At first, I thought it was just another Braxton Hicks.

But they kept coming.

Stronger. Closer together.

I nudged the panic button app Damien had installed.

Within minutes, the house was chaos.

Dean had two different shoes on and was frantically trying to remember the keys of the cars. The downside of owning so many vehicles? In an emergency, you never knew which one you'd use—let alone where you left it.

Damien had grabbed the hospital bag and was barking orders like we were in a battlefield.

Dante was timing my contractions and coaching me through breaths like a doula on caffeine.

My mom kissed my forehead and whispered, "It's time, baby."

And as they helped me into the car, as my world began to shift into this whirlwind of adrenaline and nerves, I looked down at my belly.

"Okay, Bean," I whispered. "Let's do this."

The city blurred past the windows as we raced to the hospital.

Every bump in the road felt like an earthquake. My brothers were arguing over who would cut the cord when it was obvious that it would be Dante. I was busy trying to breathe and not scream at them all.

And in that madness, I found peace.

Because I wasn't alone.

Not anymore.

I had Bean. I had my family. I had love. Laughter. And a future.

A new beginning was coming—loud, tiny, and probably screaming.

And I was ready to meet them.

Ready to become someone I never thought I'd be.

A mother.

And in that moment, despite the contractions, despite the panic and uncertainty . . . I smiled.

====

The ER doors slid open, and a blast of antiseptic air hit us.

Dante all but marched me to the nurses' station, rattling off my vitals like I was the most delicate patient he'd ever triaged.

"Thirty-nine weeks, regular contractions every three minutes, no complications so far," he said, flashing his hospital ID like a VIP pass.

A nurse wheeled me toward maternity, and Dad jogged alongside, gripping my hand—then abruptly offered me a butterscotch candy "for energy," which I declined with a pained laugh.

Dean followed, videoing the event to our group chat ("Bean is coming in hot! Somebody breathe for ME!").

Damien stayed two steps behind the gurney, his face all business, but every so often I caught him mouthing affirmations—"You've got this, Eve"—as if wishing strength into my bones.

They settled me into a birthing suite that smelled faintly of lavender. The lights were soft, the monitors beeped steadily, and the rhythmic whoosh of Bean's heartbeat filled the room like background music. For a moment, everything calmed.

Then another contraction hit.

I gripped the rails and growled something unprintable. Mom stroked my hair, humming a lullaby she used to sing when I was small. Dante coached my breathing. Dean attempted comic relief, only to be silenced by Damien's death-glare. Father was stoic but I felt like he lost consciousness while awake.

Between waves of pain, I stared at the ceiling, painting silent promises in my head: I'll love you. I'll protect you. I'll show you every sunrise in Frizkiel and every secret beach my family took me to. You are already my whole world, little Bean.

A nurse bustled in, checked the monitor, and smiled. "You're progressing beautifully, sweetheart. Looks like we'll meet this baby very soon."

Lightning cracked across my abdomen—pain, raw and electric—yet beneath it pulsed something fiercer, brighter: joy.

"Soon," I whispered, squeezing Mom's hand. "I'm ready."

I'm ready to see my baby.

One moment, I was drowning in pain—and the next, everything went quiet, replaced by the loud, beautiful cry of my baby filling the room. They placed the tiny, wriggling bundle against my chest, right over my heart. And in that instant, I understood what it truly meant to love at first sight.