Bryce walked over and pulled me into his arms.
In that moment, neither of us said a word. We held each other in the middle of the kitchen, swaying together in quiet harmony.
“I swear to God, this time, I’m doing everything right. I’m here,” he said into my hair. “All the way. Every appointment. Every craving. Every little foot kick. We’re in this together.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to hold onto that peace, but fear slipped in quietly, familiar and unwelcome.
“What if something happens again?” I whispered, barely able to get the words out. “What if I go all the way and it’s a repeat of last time? What if we name them, dream about them, fall in love with them, and then I come home with empty arms again?”
My throat tightened, and the tears came harder. “I can’t go through that again, Bryce. I don’t think I’d survive it this time. I really don’t.”
Bryce froze for a second, like the thought hurt him just as bad. Then slowly he pulled back just enough to hold my face in his hands. His eyes met mine, and I saw the grief he never fully let me see back then—the ache he’d been carrying in his own way. But beneath it was something stronger.
“Chess, don’t think like that. We got another shot another shot at being the parents we never got to be. And this time… it’s gonna stick. This time, God ain’t takin’ nothing from us; he’s giving. Even if we don’t know for sure, we just have to believe that this time will be different… with a better outcome. Everything’s gonna be perfect.”
Tears brimmed in my eyes once more, but that time I smiled through them. A fragile, flickering flame of hope danced in my chest, whispering that maybe, just maybe… this time would be different.
“I love you, C Baby,” he murmured, pulling back to meet my gaze.
I looked up at him, my cheeks wet and my heart full. “I love you too, Bryce.”
He smirked. “Good. But just know, you ain’t the only one bearing gifts. I got you something too.”
With that, Bryce stepped back, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small velvet box.
“Wait... what—”
He dropped to one knee right there in front of the stove, my heart racing in sync with the
“Chesteria, I lost you once, but I’m not doing that again. You’re my home, my peace, and my forever. Let’s do this whole life thing… for real this time. Will you marry—”
I didn’t even let him finish, my voice bursting forth in excitement. “Yes! Hell yes!”
We kissed again, in the kitchen where our child would one day eat breakfast, where we’d probably argue over whose turn it was to clean, where life—real, messy, beautiful life—was about to begin in the most wondrous way possible.
Epilogue
“From Loss to Labor: How Love Survived What Should’ve Broken Us”
Ihad been through a lot in life, but nothing, and I meannothing, prepared me for seeing the woman I loved laid up in a hospital bed, cussing at nurses, drenched in sweat, and howling in pain with the fury of a banshee that missed breakfast.
“GET THIS THING OUTTA ME!” Chesteria screamed at the top of her lungs, gripping the bed rails like she was riding a damn rollercoaster from hell, and trying to yank the devil himself out with her bare hands.
The nurses didn’t even flinch. They stayed calm, unfazed, moving around the room with the ease of people who’d already witnessed five exorcisms and a demon birth before clocking in—one of them even yawned. Meanwhile, I stood there clutching her hand with the wide-eyed panic of a rookie in the playoffs, silently praying my fingers would survive the labor death grip.
“Baby, breathe,” I said gently, wiping her forehead, trying not to get cussed out too. “You’re doing so good. Just a little longer.”
Chesteria shot me a glare so sharp, I felt my soul scoot back three feet in fear.
“Bryce,listento me,” she panted between contractions. “This is theonlybaby you’re ever getting out of me! You hear me?! One! Singular! This baby better come out with a retirement plan and a trust fund because I’m done!”
The nurse giggled behind her mask.
Chesteria turned her wrath that way. “Andyou,” she pointed at her, “I need a different nurse! You’re too calm! You’re making me feel like I’m overreacting, and Iam not!”
Another contraction hit, and she hollered again. I braced myself, offering up ice chips as a peace offering, fully aware they weren’t about to save me from getting verbally bodied in front of the entire delivery room.
“I love you, so, so much,” I whispered.
