Chapter 75

Chapter 75
Chapter 75: “The Sound of a Heartbeat”

POV: Elizabeth

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It was well past midnight when I woke up with a sharp kick in my lower belly.

Not painful, just strong. Strong enough to jolt me awake and leave me blinking into the quiet dark of our room.

For a second, I just lay there, hand pressed against the curve of my stomach, waiting to feel it again. Then there it was, a flutter, then a thump. I smiled, even though my eyes were still heavy from sleep.

Beside me, Jackson stirred.

“You okay?” he mumbled, voice low and raspy with sleep.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “The baby kicked. A lot.”

His eyes opened slowly. In the low light from the hallway, I could see the way his brows pulled together in concern, even half-asleep. He pushed himself up onto one elbow. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” I said. “I just… can’t go back to sleep now.”

Jackson sat up properly, rubbing a hand through his messy hair. “Sit up. Come here.”

He helped me shift into a more upright position, fluffing the pillows behind me like it was his personal mission. It made me laugh, quietly.

“You always do that,” I said.

“Do what?”

“Act like fixing pillows will solve everything.”

He smiled. “Sometimes it does.”

I leaned back and sighed. The baby kicked again, and I winced slightly. Jackson noticed immediately.

“That one was stronger, huh?” he asked, eyes on my belly.

“Yeah. This one’s definitely a night owl.”

Jackson reached out and touched my stomach gently, like he still wasn’t used to it. His palm was warm, steady. “Can I?”

“You don’t have to ask,” I whispered.

For a moment, we just sat there, still and quiet. Then, another kick, and Jackson’s eyes lit up.

“I felt that,” he said softly.

I nodded, biting down on a smile. “Yeah?”

“That was real. That wasn’t you moving or breathing or anything. That was the baby.”

“Your baby.”

“Our baby,” he corrected, glancing at me.

There was a pause. Then he moved closer, lowering his head until his ear was pressed against my belly. I held my breath.

The room felt impossibly still.

And then, so faint but unmistakable, a sound. A rhythmic thrum. He had opened the pregnancy monitor app earlier in the day and left it connected to the small portable doppler we’d borrowed from the clinic. He must’ve reached for the phone while I wasn’t looking.

The heartbeat echoed through the speaker like a steady drum underwater.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

It didn’t sound like mine. It was faster. Lighter. Brand new.

Jackson didn’t move. He stayed there, ear against my skin, hand still gently resting over my bump. I could feel how deeply he was breathing.

Tears welled up in my eyes without warning.

“That sound…” I whispered, “it’s everything.”

He nodded, voice hoarse. “It’s the sound of our second chance.”

I didn’t say anything right away. I couldn’t. There was a lump in my throat too big to swallow.

“I still remember the first time I heard it,” I said eventually. “At the clinic. When I was alone. It didn’t feel real back then. I didn’t know what I was doing, or how to do it alone. But now…”

“You’re not alone,” he said.

“I know. I’m trying to believe it more and more.”

We stayed like that, just listening.

Eventually, Jackson sat back up and looked at me. “Want some tea? Or crackers? The doctor said you should eat small snacks if you’re woken up by the baby.”

I rolled my eyes. “That doctor also said I should nap three times a day, and walk every hour, and sleep only on my left side. I’m not a robot.”

He stood up anyway. “Ginger tea?”

I sighed, but nodded. “Fine.”

He disappeared into the kitchen. I heard him clattering around, muttering under his breath. Something about how we were out of the good honey and he wasn’t sure if cinnamon would make it worse.

It was so domestic. So normal. And somehow, it made me want to cry all over again.

When he came back with a steaming mug and a handful of dry crackers on a plate, I smiled at him.

“You know you don’t have to do all this,” I said.

“I know,” he replied, sitting beside me. “But I want to.”

I took the tea, breathing in the soft scent.

Jackson shifted closer and rested his head on my shoulder. “Do you think they’ll look like you or me?”

I tilted my head. “Well, I hope they get your calm. But my eyebrows.”

He snorted. “Your eyebrows?”

“Yes. They’re powerful.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

There was a silence, but it wasn’t heavy. Just thoughtful.

“I want to get it right this time,” he said.

I looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Everything. The way I treat you. The way I show up. I know I’ve made mistakes, but this, us, the baby, none of it feels like a mistake.”

I took a long sip of tea before answering. “Then don’t just say it. Keep showing up.”

“I will.”

We stayed like that for a long while, me sipping tea, him occasionally pressing his hand against my stomach every time he felt another small kick.

Eventually, we both lay back down, and this time, he pulled me close, one hand resting protectively over the curve of my belly.

I didn’t feel alone anymore.

I didn’t feel afraid.

And when I closed my eyes, all I could hear was the echo of that tiny heartbeat.

It really was everything.