Dr. Reyes checked the monitors. "We can't wait. Emergency C-section. Now."
"No—"
"Their heart rates are unstable. We need to get these babies out safely."
I nodded, tears streaming.
Alessio's hand tightened on mine. "I'm right here."
They wheeled me to the OR. Alessio gowned up beside me.
"You'll feel pressure but no pain," Dr. Reyes said. "Babies out in minutes."
Alessio settled beside me, hands framing my face. "Look at me. Just me."
I focused on his dark eyes.
"I'm scared."
"Me too. But we've survived everything else." His thumb stroked my cheek. "Eva and Ezio—they're fighters. Like their mother."
Eva and Ezio. The names we'd finally settled on during those quiet weeks with Livia—poring over baby books, arguing playfully, until these two felt right. Strong names. Survivors' names.
"Applying pressure now," Dr. Reyes announced.
Strange tugging, pressure without pain.
"First baby coming."
Movement behind the drape.
Then—a cry.
"It's a boy. Small but strong."
Ezio.
"Five pounds, two ounces. Breathing well."
"Second baby."
More pressure.
Then—silence.
"She's not breathing."
Eva.
Hands moved fast. Equipment appeared.
Then—finally—a sound.
"She's breathing. Needs NICU support."
"Four pounds, nine ounces."
Both alive.
