Page 96 of When Love Found Us
And me? I feel like someone just reached inside me and rewired my entire fucking existence.
I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers, needing to ground myself in her. Her breath shakes against my lips. My hand trembles where it grips hers.
“You okay?” I ask, voice rough.
She nods quickly, sniffling. “I just . . . look at that little person—our little person.”
Our.
The word sinks into me, buries itself somewhere deep. I close my eyes for half a second, press my lips to the top of her head, but I don’t say anything. Because if I do, my voice might fucking break.
Simone clears her throat, clicking a few buttons on the machine. “Do you want to know the gender?”
Blythe pulls back slightly, blinking up at me. I see the hesitation in her eyes. The fear.
Like this moment is already too much. Like if we name it, it’ll become something even bigger, something neither of us can take back.
I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb over her damp skin. “You want to?”
She swallows hard, then nods.
Simone turns back to the screen, adjusting the angle again. The room is silent except for the hum of the machine, the quiet tension stretching between each breath.
Then Simone smiles. “This is so exciting. You’re having a little girl.”
Blythe gasps softly. Her grip on my hand tightens.
A daughter.
I don’t know if I’m breathing. I don’t know if I’m even functioning.
All I know is that I’m here, holding onto Blythe, watching our daughter shift on the screen, and realizing there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.
ChapterThirty-Six
Henrietta (Blythe)
Simone leavesright after congratulating us, and so does everyone else since they’re helping her with the machine. The apartment falls silent. I sink into the couch. The ultrasound picture clutched between my fingers. The edges are smudged, where I press too tightly, but I can’t seem to loosen my grip.
A girl.
My daughter.
She’s no longer some distant reality I can push aside while I fight to survive. She’s here—already changing everything. Already mine. Mine and . . .
I swallow hard. Winston’s.
Logically, I know that’s true. But in practice, in my heart, I don’t want him to be her father. He doesn’t deserve that title. She deserves someone who will cherish her, someone who will love her and keep her safe. Someone like Atlas.
I close my eyes, dragging in a slow breath, forcing air into my lungs that feel too tight. Atlas is outside talking to his brother—or maybe it’s someone else. I can’t hear the words, but unease coils low in my stomach. What if it’s news about Winston? What if Atlas already knows something and hasn’t told me?
No, he wouldn’t do that. He promised to be honest. I just have to wait for him to come back inside. Maybe it’s nothing, and I’m just being pessimistic.
Though the thought of Winston finding me rips through me, cold and brutal. I was prepared for this moment. At least, I thought I was. But now . . . now I don’t feel ready at all.
Terror grips me in a way I can’t control. Winston will never let me keep her. No matter how much Atlas fights, no matter what Malerick or Sanford’s people do—he’ll find a way to take her from me.
I don’t know how. I don’t know when. But the second I let myself believe I can have this, he’ll rip it away. He’ll hurt me first, make me disappear because I betrayed him. Maybe lock me away where no one can find me. Or worse—he’ll make sure I lose her before she’s even born.
