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E ight and a half months later.

It was a warm summer night, and the mansion was quiet. I was nine months pregnant and resting in my bedroom. The baby was due any day, and my anticipation of her arrival was apparent. I was over getting very little sleep, the swollen feet, and the extra water weight. Adonis was stationed just outside the door, ever vigilant as always.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. I gasped, clutching my round belly as the pain intensified. Immediately, I knew it was time. I drew in a sharp breath before calling out for Adonis. He rushed in, eyes ballooned with worry.

“Baby, it’s time. It’s happening,” I confirmed, my voice strained but sure.

Without wasting another second, he called for additional guards to prepare the car and grab my hospital bag as he helped me to my feet. Adonis supported me as we made our way to the car.

My father, alerted by the commotion, quickly joined us, reassuring me that I’d have a safe delivery. We all knew the risks involved, but the sole focus was to get me to the hospital in one piece.

Adonis never let go of my hand as we rode through the city streets. “It’s gonna be okay, Nobi. You’re doing perfect, baby,” he confirmed, offering words of comfort. “Just remember to breathe, okay?”

The contractions started to come faster as we approached the hospital. “Oh, fuck. It hurts so bad. I don’t think I can do this,” I whimpered, bracing for the next blow.

“Just hold on, baby. We’re almost there.”

We arrived at the emergency room doors, and the staff quickly took over, guiding me to the labor and delivery area. Adonis remained glued to my side, never letting go of my hand. He leaned in to kiss my forehead.

“I’m right here, baby. I got you. Anything you need, I got you,” Adonis promised.

Hours passed, and my labor only intensified. But I was a fighter, determined to push through the agonizing pain naturally, without an epidural.

Sweat drenched my forehead as I groaned in torment. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my cervix had dilated to ten centimeters, and it was time to push. After four hard pushes, the sweet cries of our baby girl filled the room. Tears of joy and solace streamed down my face, mingling with the sweat as I cradled my daughter for the first time.

Looking at her for the first time was like looking at an angel on Earth. Adonis had planted a tiny piece of heaven inside my womb with ten perfect pale fingers and toes and a head full of straight, jet-black hair. Her little features mirrored mine.

Adonis, now a proud father, hovered over me, looking down at her with a twinkle of awe in his eyes. “You did it, Nobi,” he whispered, his voice choking with emotion. “Our baby girl is here, and she’s perfect. I couldn’t have asked for a better gift.”

I gazed up at him, my heart bursting with glee and thankfulness before I tore my teary gaze back down to the tiny beauty nestled in my arms. Together, we marveled at the tiny wonder we’d brought into the world.

“Happy birthday, Ziamora Skye,” I whispered, snuggling against her for skin-to-skin contact.

Adonis had picked out her name. It meant beautiful warrior, which he said reminded him of me. He reached out to gently stroke his daughter’s tiny hand, and I knew he’d also fallen in love with her. A smile hooked one side of my lips. I hadn’t felt this fulfilled since I painted my first canvas.

The bond Adonis and I shared was unbreakable. Despite the threats that lurked around every corner and the turbulent days ahead, I was grateful to have him by my side, ready and willing to protect our precious baby girl and take on our enemies as the head of our family and as only The Guardian could.

He kissed my forehead. “I love you, Nobi.”

“I love you too.”

THE END