Page 88 of Cruel Juliet

The second I see him, the fear that’s been choking me eases just enough for me to breathe.

“Sir, you can’t be here!” a nurse says.

“Like fuck I can’t,” he snaps. “I’m her husband.”

The nurses frown at each other. “Then who’s this?”

Petyr’s eyes finally settle on Luka. He gives the tiniest wave in the world. If I wasn’t being split apart at the seams, I’d find it hilarious.

“Thank you, Luka,” Petyr says carefully. “You have five seconds to step away from my wife.”

He makes it in three.

Petyr moves to my side without a word. His hands find mine, large and warm, and I finally feel anchored to something real.

Luka catches my gaze once more, gives me a sheepish thumbs-up, and slips quietly from the room.

But I’ve only got eyes for one person right now. “You’re here,” I whisper to Petyr.

“I’m here,” he says, voice rough. He looks terrified and focused all at once. His thumb strokes over my knuckles, slow and steady. “You’re okay. She’s okay.”

Another contraction hits, sharp and deep. I squeeze his hand hard enough to make him flinch, but he doesn’t pull away. His grip only tightens.

God, I’ve needed this so much.Him.

“It’s time,” Dr. Agar says. “Push, Sima.”

All I can do is cling to Petyr’s hand. His presence fills the space around me and drowns out everything else. He leans close, his breath warm against my temple.

“Breathe,” he murmurs. “You’ve got this.”

I nod, though my vision blurs. Every muscle burns. My world narrows to the sound of his voice, the rhythm of my breathing, and the tiny heartbeat still pulsing steady on the monitor.

I push. Over and over again, in sync with Dr. Agar’s instructions. It feels like it takes forever.

Then, finally?—

“There she is!” Dr. Agar calls out.

A small, sharp cry fills the room. The sound cuts through everything. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

Dr. Agar says something else I can’t quite make out, but she sounds happy. I hear clapping, soft laughter, the shuffle of movement.

Then a nurse places a tiny, wriggling bundle against my chest.

My daughter.

My gaze finds her face. She’s so small, still red in the face, but God. I’ve never seen anything so angelic.

I look up at Petyr next. Tears slip down my face. “Look. She’s here.”

His eyes lock on her like nothing else in the world exists. His hand shakes when he touches her tiny fingers.

“She’s perfect,” I whisper.

He nods, silent. His jaw works like he wants to speak but can’t. The terror that’s been wrapped around my chest finally loosens.

For the first time in months, I feel safe. Whole.