The Edge of Light ✔️

Epilogue 2

E L E N A

Thirty-nine weeks. I never imagined I'd make it this far, let alone feel this... round. Every time I looked down, my body felt like it belonged to someone else—moving, aching, and straining with each step as I waddled from room to room.

And then there was Nikolai. A constant shadow, an anchor. Every time I struggled to bend down, he was there, lifting or carrying whatever I needed. He'd become an expert at holding the weight of my belly, one hand pressed gently under my bump, taking off some of the strain. It was my favourite time of the day, when he helped me with the weight and we just rocked back and forth in the silence. When my feet swelled, which still happens a lot, he'd have a bowl of cool water and a massage waiting, kneeling by my side as he carefully eased away the discomfort.

"Stop pampering me," I'd say, a guilty smile on my face. I felt useless, like all I could do was breathe and try to ignore the pangs of discomfort that filled my days.

But he'd just shake his head. "It's not pampering, my love," he'd murmur, brushing his lips over my knuckles. "It's taking care of my family."

Every wince, every shift, every little twitch I made had Nikolai on high alert. Whenever I'd sigh or press a hand to my back, he'd shoot up, reaching for the hospital bag with that look in his eyes—the one that said he was ready to whisk me off at any second.

"Not yet, Niko," I'd laugh, patting his arm to calm him down. "He's just stretching." And he'd sigh, frustrated yet endearingly worried, settling back down but not once taking his eyes off me. Our baby boy started kicking and announcing himself pretty late into my prgnancy, but now that he's started, he barley stops. 

Tonight, as I sat in bed reading, a sharp kick from our son sent a ripple of pain up my spine. I winced, catching my breath. Nikolai was by my side instantly, his hand gently pressing against my belly.

"He's going to be a strong one," he chuckled, though his eyes remained fixed on my face, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles on my side.

But as he pulled his hand away, a sudden pressure—warm and unstoppable—washed over me. My heart stopped, wide-eyed as I looked down, feeling the unmistakable sensation pooling beneath me.

"Nikolai..." I whispered, voice trembling.

He followed my gaze, his eyes going wide, panic flashing across his face. He scrambled up, knocking over the bedside lamp in his rush, grabbing the hospital bag and my jacket before I could even finish a breath.

"Oh God, it's happening!" he shouted, his voice panicked, yet laced with excitement. I couldn't help but let out a laugh, but it was quickly overtaken by a wave of panic that surged through me, tightening my chest.

"It's too early," I choked out, my heart racing as I clutched his arm. "Nikolai... what if it's too soon?"

He paused, his hand moving to cradle my face, eyes locking onto mine with a steady warmth. "Elena, look at me," he said softly. "He's ready, and so are we. Our son will be fine—you'll be fine." He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering as he whispered, "We're going to meet him, and it's going to be perfect."

His calm gaze anchored me, soothing my fears, and I took a shaky breath, nodding as he helped me out the door.

In what felt like seconds, we were in the hospital. I barely remembered the car ride—just the way he held my hand, his voice a gentle hum as he kept telling me it would be okay, even as his knuckles turned white on the wheel.

As another contraction ripped through me, I squeezed his hand, desperate and hurting, fighting to breathe through the waves of pain. My body felt like it was breaking apart, each ache and cramp surging through me with impossible intensity. "It's okay, my love," he murmured, kissing my forehead, my hand, my shoulder, his voice like an anchor pulling me back.