Perspective

Bonus: 2

Asher

"Hello?" I answer, lifting my phone to my ear.

"Any updates?" It's Chase's mom.

"Not yet. They're still doing the delivery. "

"Sweetie, I know you're scared, but it's all going to be okay. Chase is a strong a girl."

I feel a small smile on my lips. "Yeah she is."

"Lola?" Harper asks, lifting his head from my lap.

"Yeah. Want to talk to her?"

"Yes, please."

I hand him my phone and he talks to his grandma.

As he's talking, the two nurses and a doctor rush out of the devilery room with a cart. There's a tiny bundle in the cart.

Another doctor comes out of the room.

"Harper, say goodbye to Lola," I tell my son.

"Dad says to say bye. Bye, Lola," he says into the phone and hands it back to me.

"I'll call you back," I tell Chase's mom before ending the call.

"Hi, you must be Asher," The doctor says to me, holding her hand out.

I stand up and shake her hand.

"And inside is your girlfriend, correct?" She asks.

"Yes." I confirm.

"I have some good news and some bad news."

My stomach turns.

"The good news, the mother is doing great. They're just stitching her up."

I feel relief explode through my body. "And the bad news?"

"The child was born at 30 weeks which is far too early as you might know."

"She's dead?" I bluntly ask.

The doctor blinks. "No, no. Your baby is alive. She is going to be kept in the NICU until she can function without assistance. I could take you to the unit if you would like."

"What about Chase?"

"I would suggest not letting her see the baby right now. It would be incredibly overwhelming especially for the mother."

I nod.

"We can head over right now."

"Okay." I look down at Harper and motion for him to get up.

"Hi," the doctor greets Harper while leading us to the NICU. "What's your name?"

"Harper," my son rpelies.

"That's a nice name."

"Thanks."

"How old are you, Harper?"

"Dad," he tugs on my hand. "Am I five?"

"Almost."

"I'm almost five," Harper tells the doctor. "How old are you?"

She laughs. "Old."

Harper's eyes widen. "A thousand years old?"

"What makes you think I'm a thousand years old."

I brace myself for Harper's response.

"Dad makes fun of Mommy for her white hair. He says that she's a thousand years old. You have white hair too," he explains.