seventy six

seventy six
Thomas sat in the hospital corridor, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the sterile tiles beneath his shoes. He’d been sitting there for hours — maybe more — watching nurses rush past, the hum of life continuing around him while his world stood still.
He still couldn’t believe it. Samantha was gone — imprisoned, her lies unraveled. Their son, fragile but fighting in the NICU, was safe under Kylie’s care. And now… Delia.
A door creaked open down the hall. He looked up just as Mandy appeared, her expression soft but firm. For a moment, Thomas couldn’t move — he didn’t know if she’d tell him to leave or forgive him for everything that had happened.
“Mrs. West,” he said quietly, standing.
She smiled faintly. “It’s Mandy, Thomas. You’ve earned at least that much by staying.”
He swallowed hard, guilt flooding through him. “How… how is she? Delia?”
Mandy stepped closer, her eyes gentler than he expected. “She’s resting. And she had a little girl — healthy, beautiful. Your daughter, Thomas.”
The words hit him like a wave — soft yet powerful. He blinked, eyes burning. “A girl…” he whispered. “She’s really okay?”
“She’s perfect,” Mandy said, her tone tender now. “Delia’s exhausted but strong. She’s ready for you, if you’re ready to meet her.”
He nodded before his heart could stop him. “Please.”
Mandy gave a small smile and motioned for him to follow. “Be gentle with her. She’s been through enough heartbreak to last a lifetime.”
“I know,” Thomas murmured, voice cracking. “And I’ll spend the rest of mine trying to make up for it.”
As they reached the door, Mandy paused, squeezing his hand briefly before stepping aside. “Go on, then. She’s waiting.”
Thomas hesitated only a moment before pushing the door open.
Inside, the soft glow of the lamps cast golden halos over the room. Delia sat propped against the pillows, her hair loose, her eyes tired but glowing. The tiny bundle in her arms stirred as he entered, a small sound escaping the baby’s lips.
Delia looked up, surprise flickering into something gentler — understanding, maybe even forgiveness. “Hey,” she whispered.
Thomas froze in the doorway. “Hey.”
For a long moment, they just looked at each other — the ghosts of everything they’d been through hanging heavy between them. Then his gaze dropped to the baby. “She’s beautiful.”
Delia smiled faintly. “She is.”
“Can I…” He hesitated, emotion thick in his throat. “Can I see her?”
Delia nodded slowly. “Of course.”
He crossed the room carefully, as if afraid his presence might shatter the peace. When she held out their daughter, he took her as though she were made of glass — his hands trembling, his breath uneven.
The moment his eyes met hers, everything else fell away. The noise, the pain, the guilt — it all disappeared, leaving only her. His daughter. A piece of both of them, brand new and innocent.
“Hi there, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I’m your dad.”
Delia watched silently, her heart aching in ways both old and new. For all his mistakes, Thomas had always loved deeply. And seeing him now — raw, broken, yet tender — she couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, forgiveness wasn’t impossible.
“She looks like you,” Thomas said after a moment, smiling through his tears. “Same nose. Same stubborn frown.”
Delia let out a soft laugh. “You think so?”
“I know so,” he said, his voice steadier now. He looked at her then — really looked. “Delia… I don’t expect you to ever forget what I did. But I want you to know that I am sorry. For everything. For not protecting you. For letting others hurt you. For losing myself when you needed me most.”
Her throat tightened. “Thomas…”
He shook his head, still holding their daughter close. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… thank you. For letting me be here. For letting me meet her.”
Silence settled again, but it wasn’t heavy. It was peaceful.
Then Delia said softly, “She deserves both her parents in her life. Whatever happened before, she didn’t ask for any of it. And she deserves love — from all sides.”
Thomas’s eyes met hers, hope flickering in his expression. “Does that mean I can be part of her life?”
Delia nodded. “Of course. She’s your daughter, Thomas. And she deserves to know you.”
Tears glistened in his eyes as he nodded, clutching the baby a little tighter. “Thank you.”
Just then, the door opened quietly, and Frank appeared, his expression warm but cautious. He stopped when he saw them — the picture of peace that had once seemed impossible.
Delia looked up at him, her smile gentle. “Come meet in, Frank.”
Thomas turned to Frank, and a smile formed on his lips. “Yes, come on in Frank. I want to thank you for everything that you have done for us and the babies. I owe you big time.”
“Thank you.” Frank stepped in, placing the coffees on the small bedside unit then turning to Delia, his hand brushing her shoulder. “Hey, little one,” he murmured. “You’ve got your whole world right here.”
Delia reached out, taking his hand, grounding herself between the two men — the one who had broken her and the one who had helped her heal. “We’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “All of us.”
For the first time in a long while, Thomas believed it.