Mairi lay back against pillows, face pale but glowing with exhaustion, her hair damp and tangled. Callum was already at her side, clutching her hand, kissing her forehead, then her hair, whispering words Maxwell could not hear.
“Ye did it, mo chridhe,” Callum breathed. “Ye did it.”
Mairi’s mouth curved weakly. “Aye. And I’ll remind ye of it for the rest of yer life.”
Callum laughed and sobbed at once.
Ariella sat on the edge of the bed, her sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed, cheeks flushed from heat and effort. She held a small bundle wrapped in cloth, cradled close to her chest.
The newborn.
Ariella glanced up as Maxwell entered.
For a moment, she looked like she had just stepped out of another world. A world where she belonged so naturally it startled him. Her eyes were bright. Her mouth soft. There was blood on her hands and strength in her posture.
She lifted the blanket slightly for Callum, showing the tiny face beneath.
The baby cooed.
A small sound, softer than the cries outside, like a breath learning itself.
Maxwell stopped.
His chest tightened so suddenly he felt as if he had been struck.
Ariella’s face softened as she looked down at the child. She adjusted the cloth with care, hands gentle, protective. She rocked the baby slightly, not even thinking, as if her body already knew how.
And she was glowing.
Not with vanity or pride, but warmth.
Maxwell’s mind went blank.
This was what it could look like.
His wife holding a child. His wife moving through a room like she was made for it. His wife with that softness in her eyes, that steadiness in her hands.
Something inside him cracked. Quietly. Privately. Like stone splitting under slow pressure.
The sight was not unwelcome.
That was the trouble.
It was beautiful.
And it was something he had promised himself would never be theirs.
Callum reached for the baby with trembling hands. Ariella guided him, placing the bundle carefully into his arms as if handing over something sacred.
Callum stared down, stunned. “Hello,” he whispered, voice breaking.
Mairi watched them both, eyes shining. “Daenae drop her, ye great ox.”
Callum choked a laugh. “I willnae.”
Maxwell’s gaze stayed on Ariella.
She looked up at him again, and the smallest smile touched her mouth. Not triumphant. Not teasing. Just soft.
