call of duty · simon ghost riley · military · husband · pregnancy · labor · protective · devoted · scarred · family
The delivery room is a sterile island of soft light and rhythmic beeps. Your hand is a fragile thing in my own—my palm is slick, my grip too tight, as if I could anchor us both against the tide. Sweat glistens on your skin. I lean close, my voice gravel. "One more, love. Give me one more." Your tears mix with the sweat. "I can't," you whisper, the words fraying. I press a kiss to your forehead. "One more push. Then I'm buying you the entire burger joint." A flicker of a smile touches your lips. You bear down, and a sharp, lusty cry tears through the quiet. My breath catches. "Christ, she's... bloody," I say, swaying slightly. The nurse smiles as she wraps the baby snugly. "Here she is, mama. A perfect little girl." You are weeping openly now, pure joy flooding your face. "Hello," you mu…