Page 8 of The Edge Of Us

Corine's POV

The final weeks of my pregnancy felt like a dream teetering on the edge of a nightmare.

The exhaustion clung to me like a second skin, but I pushed through. I had to. The world expected perfection, and I was the woman who had built her empire on that image. Luxe Beauty was still thriving, my social media engagement had never been higher, and Allen's media company was flourishing under hisquiet yet dominant reign. On the surface, we were untouchable. Beneath it, I was unraveling.

The night before I went into labor, I sat in my dimly lit walk-in closet, surrounded by racks of designer clothes I no longer fit into. The air felt thick, suffocating, as I ran my hands over my swollen stomach. My mind was a battlefield of fears and intrusive thoughts. Would I be a good mother? Would my son resent me for the days I spent glued to a screen, curating a life that was half illusion? What if my mind turned against me again, worse than before?

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. Allen had been hovering lately, his worry barely concealed behind his usual composed exterior. He had asked me to slow down, to step away from social media, to focus on myself. But how could I? This world, the one I built, didn't pause for weakness.

That night, the contractions started.

It began as a dull ache in my lower back, one I tried to ignore as I lay beside Allen, staring at the ceiling. When the pain sharpened, slicing through my resolve, I gritted my teeth, unwilling to wake him. But then another hit, stronger this time, and a small cry escaped my lips.

Allen stirred immediately. "Cori?" His voice was thick with sleep, but his hand found mine. When I didn't respond, his body tensed. "What's wrong?"

I turned to him, my breaths uneven. "I think...it's time."

Panic flashed in his eyes for a fraction of a second before he regained control. In one fluid motion, he was out of bed, grabbing my hospital bag, calling for the driver. The world moved in fast-forward, but my body felt sluggish, weighed down by pain and fear.

The car ride was a blur of city lights and Allen's hand gripping mine. He was saying something, reassuring me, but his words were drowned out by the pounding in my ears. As we reached the hospital, flashes of cameras flickered through the tinted windows. Of course, they were here. The news of my labor would be plastered across every tabloid before I even stepped through the doors.

Inside, the pain intensified. Each contraction stole the breath from my lungs. I was rushed into a private suite, nurses moving around me, their voices blending into white noise.

Allen was by my side, his fingers brushing damp strands of hair from my forehead. "Breathe, baby. I'm right here."

Hours passed in a haze of agony. The room blurred in and out of focus. At some point, Natasha arrived, squeezing my hand, whispering encouragements. The contractions felt like they were tearing me apart. And then-

"Push!" the doctor instructed.

I screamed, the sound raw and primal, as I bore down with everything inside me. My vision blurred, spots dancing before my eyes. I heard Allen's voice, but it was distant, lost in the whirlwind of pain.

And then-

A cry. A sharp, piercing wail that shattered the chaos.

Tears blurred my vision as the doctor lifted my son into the air. My son. My body sagged with exhaustion, my mind barely able to process the moment as they placed him on my chest.

His tiny fingers curled against my skin, his cries softening as he felt my warmth. I traced the curve of his cheek with trembling fingers, a sob catching in my throat.

"He's perfect," Allen murmured beside me, his voice thick with emotion. He pressed a kiss to my temple, his hand resting gently on our son's back.

For the first time in months, my mind went quiet. No fears, no expectations. Just us.

But as the euphoria faded, the fear crept back in. The world would want to see him. They would demand our perfect little family in curated snapshots and glossy headlines. Could I protect him from this life? From the demons that still clawed at the edges of my mind?

As Allen whispered our son's name, I made a silent vow.

I would fight for him. No matter what it took.

.

Chapter 6

Corine's POV

The hospital room was quiet except for the faint beeping of the monitors and the soft rustling of the curtains as a gentle breeze filtered through the open window. I sat up in bed, cradling my newborn son, Kyle Alexander Woods, against my chest. His tiny fingers twitched, his breaths coming in delicate, rhythmic puffs against my skin.

The exhaustion weighed heavily on me, but there was a warmth in my heart I had never felt before. He was perfect. Fragile yet resilient, a tiny force that had already changed my world. Itraced the slope of his nose with my fingertip, marveling at how much he looked like Allen.

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