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A daughter’s cry.
Our daughter.
Chiara’s body becomes limp, an exhausted sob escaping her lips as she collapses back against Nikolai’s chest, her body trembling against mine.
She’s crying, overwhelmed, and I can barely breathe around the lump in my throat.
My eyes burn as I stare down at the tiny, squirming, crying life in Chiara’s arms.
Our baby.
My heart clenches so hard, it’s almost unbearable.
Almost.
Our baby is so small, so perfect against her mother's body.
Her tiny fingers curl instinctively against Chiara’s breast, her wet hair plastered to her soft small head.
Her face is red and all scrunched up, her lungs strong, and her cries the most beautiful fucking sound I’ve ever heard.
Nikolai releases a shaky breath behind Chiara, his lips pressing into her damp hair.
“She’s perfect.”
He murmurs, his voice raw with emotion.
Chiara is sobbing now, clutching our daughter close, pressing kisses to her small head, whispering soft words of sweetness into her ear.
And me?
I don’t know if I’m even breathing.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breathe again.
Because this moment—thisexactmoment—just rewired something in my chest, broke me open, and rearranged me from inside out.
I wipe at my face, but it’s fucking useless.
Tears keep falling, and my hands are shaky, my entire body wrecked with emotions.
I finally move, cradling Chiara’s face as I kiss her.
“You did it.” I breathe against her lips, my breathing unsteady. “You did so fucking good, beauty.”
She laughs softly through her tears, turning slightly to look back at Nikolai too.
Our daughter is cradled between our three bodies, and we all reach down to touch her.
“We did it.” Chiara whispers. “She’s finally here.”
Nikolai leans in, pressing a kiss to her cheek as his finger brushes over our baby’s head.
“Our little family.”
And I know that this is it.
Everything I’ve ever wanted is right here.