Chapter 096

Matteo's Pov

I can recount the number of times when my wife was so happy the child in her surfaces. And the happiness and joy she feels today is worthy to be taken note of.

She's all flustered, her chest heaving, her face wide with a huge grin, and her eyes locked on the shiny ring around her finger.

As I drive us back to our home, I feel a sense of fulfillment, of joy, knowing that I'm the reason my woman can't stop herself from expressing her profound joy.

"I still can't believe this. . . oh my gosh!" She shrieks, slapping her hands over her thighs. I snort a laugh, shaking my head at her cuteness. She's like a kid on Christmas morning, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"You're gonna wear it out if you keep staring at it, baby," I say in an attempt to gain her undivided attention.

"Matteo, just look at it! Isn't it stunning?" She asks for the umpteenth time, waving her hand in front of me.

I chuckle and take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's beautiful, amore. Almost as beautiful as you."

She blushes and playfully hits my arm. "Stop it, you're making me blush."

But she can't contain her excitement, bubbling over with plans for our wedding and telling our children. "Oh, Matteo, I can't wait to tell Mariano and Mariana! They're going to be so thrilled. And the wedding! We have to have it in Tuscany, surrounded by vineyards and cypress trees. And the food! We'll have to serve all my favorite dishes. . . we should definitely have the wedding before the baby comes, I don't want to have a fuzzy baby at my wedding. And the stress of having your newborn at your own event," she groans.

I listen, smiling, as her imagination runs wild. I love seeing her so happy, so carefree.

As we pull up to our home, she turns to me, her eyes shining. "This is just the beginning of our new life together, Matteo. I promise to always cherish and support you. And my wish is that we get it right this time around."

My heart swells with love and gratitude. "I promise the same, amore. Forever and always. And we'll definitely get it right this time, my love."

We share a tender kiss, the engagement ring glinting on her finger, a symbol of our love and commitment to each other.

As we walk into our home, Mirabella can't wait to share the news with our children. She rushes into the living room, where Mariano and Mariana are engrossed in their books.

"Amore miei! Guess what?" Mirabella exclaims, waving her hand with the engagement ring.

Mariano and Mariana look up, curious, and then their eyes widen as they take in the sight of the ring.

"Your papà proposed!" Mirabella announces, beaming. "And you should've seen the way he did it! Oh, it was so romantic. He took me to that beautiful restaurant, and he got down on one knee, and. . . and. . . he said the most beautiful things. He has such a cold exterior but is the most soft hearted man I've ever known."

The kids share a knowing look, snickering within themselves before jumping up, congratulating us with hugs and cheers. Mirabella pulls them down beside her, gushing about the proposal.

"You both don't look surprised," she pouts, "don't tell me you. . ."

I chuckle, kissing her forehead, "I had to get their permission first before stealing their mother."

"Congratulations, mamá," Mariana cheers, "I can't wait to hear more about Papá's romantic side," she pokes out her tongue at me, teasing me.

"Yeah," Mirabella smiles widely, "He's such a romantic man, I'm so lucky to have him as my husband and the father of my children."

I feel a sense of pride.

Mariano nods, grinning. "Yeah, Papà's the best."

Mariana snuggles up to her mother. "We're so happy for you, Mamma."

As we hug, I feel grateful for this little family of ours, and I know that this is just the beginning of our new life together.

Mirabella looks up at me, her eyes shining. "And now, we get to plan the wedding! Who's excited?"

The kids cheer, and Mirabella laughs, already envisioning the perfect Tuscan wedding. I smile, knowing that I'm in for a wild ride, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

As the children take their positions on the couch, I stand behind Mirabella and lean down so that my mouth is brushing her ear. "The most romantic man you've ever known, huh?" I whisper, "why don't we go upstairs and have you list out the other men you know."

She giggles, "you're an awfully jealous-" he words get stuck in her throat, a sharp gasp of pain escaping.

Wide eyes meet mine, her brows furrowing.

"What's wrong?" I ask, my tone pinged with concern.

Her face contorts, "I. . . it's nothing, I just felt a sharp pain. Nothing to. . . fuck!" She cradles her belly and stumbles but I'm quick to catch her.

"I think. . . I think the baby is coming."

"What?" I ask, my tone desperate, adrenaline pumping through my veins. "It's too early. . ."

"Don't you think I know that, you fucking idiot?" She grits, growling at me. "Just take me to the fucking hospital and stop looking so fucking confused!"

Fuck me. It's about to be a long night.

. . .

I pace back and forth in the hospital room, trying to calm Mirabella down as she clutches her belly, her face red with rage.

"Three weeks early? Are you kidding me?!" she yells, throwing a pillow at me. "I wasn't ready for this! I had plans!"

I dodge the pillow, trying to reason with her. "Amore, the baby is ready to come out. We can't control that."

Tears pool out of her eyes, "what if something is wrong with her? What if we're losing the baby?"

"Don't say that, baby," I whisper, rubbing her back, "our baby is doing great, my love." But she is beyond reason. She's in labor rage mode, snapping at everyone, including the doctors and nurses.

"Get me an epidural now! I don't care if it's too late! I want it now!"

"We'll love to do that for you, ma'am," one of the nurses says, "but I need you to lie down so we can perform a vagina examination in order to determine the level of your dilation."

She shakes her head, "I don't want to!"

"You'll have to, my love," I plead, trying my best to soothe her.

"I said no!" She cries out, "I'm. . . In so much pain! This little fucker!"

"I know baby, I know. I'm so sorry."

"Don't fucking speak to me!" She yells at me, snatching her hand away from me. That dampens my spirit, but I'm glad she allows the nurses to help her up the delivery bed.

The doctor overseeing the birth walks in seconds later and inserts her fingers into Mirabella's vagina.

She groans out in pain and I hurriedly hold her hand in mine, kissing the back of her palm multiple times.

"You're at eight centimeters, Mrs. Denaro, which makes it impossible for us to administer an epidural. Just endure it for a few more minutes and you'll get it over and done with." The doctor informs us, her tone polite.

"No, no, no! I want one! Please give me one!"

I try to intervene, but she turns on me. "You! You did this to me! You and your romantic getaways and your insatiable testosterone! God, I hate you so much!"

I hold up my hands, defensive. "Whoa, amore, I'm just trying to help."

"Go fuck yourself, because you're never touching me again!" She rages on, cursing the hospital, the medical staff, and me.

Note to self: don't get your wife pregnant again.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the doctor returns to the room and performs another vagina examination. A smile warms her face as she instructs the nurses to prepare for the baby's arrival.

"It's time to push, Mrs. Denaro!" She says to Mirabella.

And the minutes that follow are excruciating ones. My wife is screaming her lungs out in pain, tears escaping through the corners of her eyes as she fights to bring our child into this world.

She inhales deep breaths at intervals, using her rage as a tool of determination. And all I can do is pray that this pain is taken away from her soon. All I can do is hold her hand and whisper encouraging words into her ear, to let her know that I'm here for her.

And then suddenly, her painful wails quiet down, replaced by a high pitched ringing of a little crying voice. Our baby girl is here.

My breath hitch as I stare at the baby awestruck. I think. . . I've fallen in love with my wife all over again. This is so magical. . . she's so magical for bringing a life into this world.

As one of the nurses holds up our little one against my wife's chest, tears of joy flow from her eyes.

I cry with her too, kissing both my girls' forehead, my heart filling with profound love.

"We did it," she whispers, looking at me with a mix of exhaustion and elation.

"No, you did it. You're a champ." I kiss her softly.

She nods, dragging in a sniffle. "What do we call her?"

"I've had this name in mind since discovering her gender," I whisper, "Zarya."

"What does that mean?"

"A new dawn."

She chuckles, smiling, "I like it; Zarya."

I smile, relieved, "welcome to the world, Zarya Denaro."