You Did It

You Did It
Chapter 300: You Did It

Roman 
Six months later…

“Savannah, I think you should rest.” I said. 

I’d said it so many times that the words had started losing structure, dissolving into a sound that lived somewhere between worry and pleading.

She didn’t even turn this time. She simply kept folding impossibly tiny onesies with intense concentration, like the fate of the world depended on whether the sleeves aligned perfectly.

“I’m fine, Roman,” she said, smoothing the fabric with deliberate care. “I just need to finish organizing this. The twins can’t come into chaos.”

The nursery smelled faintly of fresh paint and baby powder. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, laying a soft golden glow across the two cribs I had spent the last week assembling with near-obsessive precision. Every screw tightened twice. Every edge sanded smooth.

Two cribs. Even now, the reality of it pulsed quietly through me. Two different people. Two lives. Two tiny humans who would call me father.

Savannah stepped back from the closet, surveying her work like a general reviewing troops before battle. Her hair, long and soft down her chest, brushed the curve of her swollen belly. She absently tucked a strand behind her ear, then fussed with it again seconds later.

She had insisted on growing it out. Said she wanted to see what she'd look like. Now every brush of it against her body made her sigh dramatically. Yet, she stubbornly refused to cut it.

She caught me watching her and smiled. “Now doesn’t that look better?”

I glanced at the neatly separated rows of clothing—pink, blue, white—and nodded. “Perfect, mommy.”

Her smile deepened, soft and luminous. Then it vanished. She froze on the spot. Her hand moved to her belly. “Uh oh.”

Every muscle in my body locked. “Sav?” I took a cautious step toward her. “Good uh oh or bad uh oh?”

She didn’t answer. Her face shifted through confusion, realization… then unmistakable panic. Slowly, very slowly, she turned toward me.

“I think it’s an emergency uh oh, Roman.”

I dropped the blanket I’d been folding and rushed forward. But I didn’t make it. My foot slid across the floor, hitting something warm and slick.

Time slowed as my gaze dropped to the floor. Clear fluid spread across the hardwood. My brain caught up one second too late.

Her water had broken.

“Oh my God,” I breathed. Then louder—far louder than necessary—“It’s time!”

Savannah gripped my arm with surprising strength. “I think they’re coming,” she said, voice trembling. “Call my sister. Call my mom. We need to go. Now.”

Reality slammed into me like a wave. “This is really happening,” I whispered.

She moaned, doubling slightly. “Yes, Roman. It really is.”

“Fuck.” 

Savannah groaned, her fingers digging into my arm with surprising strength. “Roman,” she breathed, voice tight with effort, “we need to go. Now.”

Everything I had rehearsed for months—every checklist, every calm response, every carefully planned step—evaporated from my mind in an instant.

All I could see was her. All I could hear was the sharp edge of pain threaded through her voice. And all I could feel was a wave of fierce, overwhelming urgency.

“Okay. Okay,” I said, though my voice came out strained. “Hospital. Bags. Keys.”

I moved fast—grabbing the packed hospital bag by the door, my phone and hers, her file of medical documents. My hands trembled, but my body kept moving, driven by a single instinct: get her there safely.

Savannah leaned against the wall, breathing through another contraction, eyes squeezed shut. “Roman…” she whispered.

“I’ve got you,” I said immediately, sliding an arm around her waist. “I’ve got you, baby.”

The drive to the hospital felt both impossibly fast and unbearably slow. I drove while dialing Alyssa’s number. And the scream she let out nearly destroyed my eardrums. When the call dropped, I called Reese and unfortunately, he was with River. 

I swear I haven't been at much risk of going deaf as I have been today. Reese said he was on his way, but I doubt he'd get here before they're born. 

Savannah sat in the passenger seat, one hand gripping mine, the other pressed against her belly. Her breathing came in measured bursts, just like she’d practiced. Just like we’d practiced.

“You’re doing so well,” I murmured, glancing at her between red lights and traffic signals. “You’re doing amazing.”

She let out a breath that was half laugh, half groan. “Don’t… flatter me yet. I'm not even doing anything yet.”

I squeezed her hand gently. “I mean it. I'm so proud of you, my love.”

Silence settled between us for a moment—not empty, but full.

“We’re really doing this,” she whispered after a while, eyes fixed ahead.

“Yes,” I said softly. “We are. Don't be scared. I've got you. I'm right here.”

Her fingers tightened around mine again. “I’m not scared,” she added quietly. “Just… overwhelmed. And also a little excited.”

I swallowed. “Me too.”

But beneath the nerves, beneath the urgency, beneath the fear, there was wonder. Pure, humbling wonder.

\~~~~

The moment we arrived at the hospital, everything moved quickly. Nurses. Questions. Forms. Gentle but efficient hands guiding Savannah into a wheelchair despite her protests that she could walk just fine. 

I stayed beside her, refusing to let go of her hand even as they prepared her room.

The delivery suite was bright, calm and very clean as I had carefully made sure it'd be. 

Machines hummed softly. Monitors blinked steady rhythms across dark screens. The hospital lights were too bright. The floors are too white. The air smelled clean in a way that made everything feel more serious, more real.

Nurses moved efficiently. Their voices were calm but purposeful. Savannah was guided onto a bed, monitors attached, vital signs checked. Then she was asked to sit on a ball. 

I stayed beside her, never letting go of her hand through every moan, groan and sob. 

“It hurts, Roman.” Savannah cried. “It hurts a lot.” 

She had chosen a natural birth with an epidural—something we had discussed again and again. She wanted to do it that way. And honestly? I had little to no rights to decide for her on the subject no matter how scared I'd been. 

Watching the preparation was surreal.

The careful movements. The sterile instruments. The quiet instructions. The way Savannah nodded through each explanation, composed even through discomfort and excruciating pain that turned her skin red. 

I watched the epidural procedure with a mixture of fascination and dread, my heart lodged somewhere in my throat. She squeezed my hand during it, her forehead resting briefly against my arm.

When the epidural was administered, I stood close, speaking softly to her, grounding her, reminding her she wasn’t alone.

“You’re safe,” I whispered. “I’m right here.”

Her fingers found mine again afterward, squeezing once. “I know,” she said.

Time changed shape after that.

Minutes stretched. Sounds blurred. The world narrowed to the rhythm of her breathing and the rising, falling lines on the monitor.

Then the doors opened.

Flora entered first—frail and very slow but determined, strength glowing through exhaustion. Alyssa followed, tears already streaming down her face. Emily clutched her mother’s hand, wide-eyed and solemn in a way only children can be when they sense something important is happening.

Savannah’s face softened instantly. “Mom…”

Flora moved to her side, gently brushing her hair back. Her eyes shone with pride, with love, with something deeper—something that carried the weight of time and everything they've been through. 

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I'm so proud of you, sweetheart.” 

Alyssa kissed Savannah’s forehead, crying openly now. “You’re incredible,” she said. “Do you hear me? Incredible.”

Emily peered over at her aunt's swollen belly, saying, “Hi, babies,” as if they could already hear her.

Then it was time. Alyssa, Emily and Flora had to leave. The room shifted into focused motion. The doctor offered calm instructions. 

Savannah gripped my hand, breathing deeply. “Roman,” she said, looking straight at me.

“I’m here, my love.”

Her eyes locked with mine. “Don’t let go.”

“Never.”

And then she pushed.

There are moments in life that change you permanently. Moments that divide existence into before and after. Watching her fight through pain—watching her strength, her determination, her fierce, unyielding love, it broke something open inside me.

She wasn’t just enduring. She was bringing life into the world. And she was doing it with so much grace and courage. 

Minutes passed in a blur of effort and encouragement. “You’re doing beautifully,” the doctor said. “Almost there. We can see a head.”

Savannah cried out, pushing again, every muscle trembling with effort.

I wiped tears from her temple, whispering words I barely remembered forming. “You’re amazing… you’re incredible… I love you, baby…”

And then, a cry was heard. Sharp, clear and very much alive. “It’s a boy,” the doctor announced.

The sound hit me like a physical force. My son. Our son. He was lifted briefly into view—tiny, perfect, real.

Savannah collapsed back against the pillows, breathless, eyes shining with disbelief and triumph.

“You did it,” I whispered, pressing my forehead to hers. “You did it.”

She laughed weakly. “One more…”

Three minutes later, everything shifted again. Another push. Another cry.

“It’s a girl.” The doctor announced again. 

And for a heartbeat—just one—I froze.

My father’s voice echoed somewhere deep inside my memory, cold and certain. I could hear him in my head, threatening to murder my daughters. 

But then, I heard her cry. A second cry filled the room. Soft, loud and full of life. And everything else vanished.

Joy surged forward, unstoppable, overwhelming. That was my daughter. And I would never let my father near her. 

I was crying before I realized it. Suddenly, everything became real. Our children had arrived. 

Savannah called my name, and I leaned over her, kissing her again and again.

“You did it,” I said, voice breaking. “You did it. Both of them. You’re incredible. Thank you, baby.”

She laughed and cried at the same time, radiant with exhaustion and pride. “It’s a boy and a girl.” 

“I'm so proud of you, my love.” 

After they were cleaned and swaddled, the babies were brought back.

Our son was placed gently on Savannah’s chest. Flora, Emily and Alyssa reentered. 

Alyssa burst into louder tears, clutching her mother’s arm. Flora wept quietly, her hand covering her mouth.

I was handed our daughter. She was so small. So warm. So impossibly perfect. Her hair was dark and full. And her lips were a beautiful shade of red. 

Her tiny fingers curled instinctively around nothing, as if reaching for something already familiar. I fell in love with her at first sight. 

My vision blurred with tears. I was holding my daughter. 

“What are their names?” a nurse asked gently.

Savannah looked at me. We'd decided that she'd name the girl if it was a girl or both girls. And I'd name the boy if it was a boy or both boys. 

“Our daughter,” she said softly, “is Sarina Andrea Blackwood.”

I swallowed hard. Her names were perfect. Baby Sarina.

“Our son,” I whispered, “is Solenn Miles Blackwood.”

“I love it.” Sav said, smiling. “It's beautiful.” 

I sat beside Savannah on the bed, holding Sarina carefully while she gazed at Solenn with wonder like she couldn't believe he was real.

I kissed Savannah’s head, unable to stop looking at our daughter’s face. So small. So beautiful. So precious. So ours.

And in the silent space beneath my joy, a vow formed. No matter what came. No matter who threatened. No matter how dark the past tried to reach into our future, I would protect her.

I will protect my daughter at all costs… For as long as I lived.

The End…

See you in Book 2, From Lies To Loyalty… 

And it’s a wrap on Book 1!!! Thank you so much for your love and support throughout this chaotic and wild ride! I do not take anything for granted — not your comments, not your gifts, not your genuine excitement. You have all made this boring mama have a sort of crazy fun in a world that doesn’t exist. 

Thank you for helping me accomplish this feat. It could have never been possible without you. I love each and everyone of you deeply and I hold you close to my heart. 

Massive kiss to each and everyone of you darlings!

SEE YOU IN BOOK 2!!!! It’s actually up now but you can't see it yet! So just keep an eye out or check it out on the 15th of March, 2026.

And P.S, Sav, Roman and their one hundred children are present because why not?!

I can’t wait for you to get into it! Byeee!