My first crush (COMPLETED)√

Chapter 97: Is it over?

Stephen's POV

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and fear.

Bright white lights burned overhead, too harsh, too clean — like the universe was mocking the chaos that had brought us here. Nurses rushed past with urgency in their steps, machines beeped in distant rooms, stretchers rolled across polished floors.

I barely felt the pain in my arm anymore.

The wound throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside my chest.

They were wheeling Sharon away.

Her face was pale. Too pale. Her hair clung to her damp forehead, her body trembling as another wave of pain tore through her.

Her mother walked beside the gurney, gripping her hand tightly.

"Mom... I'm scared," Sharon cried weakly. "I don't know if I'm going to make it."

Those words shattered something inside me.

Katherine leaned down, brushing trembling fingers over Sharon's cheek.

"Baby, look at me," she said firmly, though tears gathered in her own eyes. "You are going to make it. Breathe in... and out. That's it. You're stronger than this. You're not butter. I raised a warrior. And I want to see my babies, do you hear me? You can do this."

They pushed her through the delivery room doors.

And just like that —

She was gone.

⸻

An hour passed.

The longest hour of my life.

I paced the hallway like a madman, dragging my fingers roughly through my hair, over and over. My arm was wrapped, stitched, ignored. I didn't care.

Please.

Please let her be alive.

Please let my babies cry.

Matt stood nearby, trying to keep me grounded, but I shrugged him off every time he tried to speak.

How were they so calm?

How was everyone not screaming?

"What the hell is going on in there?!" I exploded, my voice echoing through the corridor. "I want to see Sharon! I want to see my babies!"

A nurse shot me a warning look, but I didn't care.

Matt grabbed my shoulders. "Stephen, breathe."

"Don't tell me to breathe!" I snapped. "She's in there fighting for her life!"

And then—

A sound.

Sharp.

Small.

Beautiful.

A cry.

Then another.

My knees nearly gave out.

The doors swung open, and a doctor stepped out, removing his gloves.

"Doctor—" I rushed forward. "How is she?"

My heart pounded violently.

"And Patricia?" I asked quickly, dread creeping into my voice.

The doctor's expression shifted slightly.

"Please, come to my office."

"No," I said immediately. "Say it here. Right now. Don't drag this out. Is she alive? Is Sharon alive?"