Page 112 of Dark Truths

The dean of the medical school shakes my hand and hands me my diploma with the other. “Congratulations.” I shake a few more hands, their names and faces one big blur, and barely making it to the stairs on the other side before another contraction hits.

Dimitri suddenly appears at the bottom and the sight of him is like an epidural. He sweeps me into his arms, like I weigh nothing, and not the equality of a small horse. “What’s wrong?” he asks as we approach the exit.

“Contractions.” I groan.

“Are you kidding me? For how long?”

“Since the ceremony began.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Before I can lie, he scoffs and answers himself. “Because you wanted to walk across that damn stage.”

The pain drives my attitude, and I snap, “Yes, and I’m glad I did.”

He flashes me a warning look that says if I wasn’t about to deliver our babies, I’d be naked and on my knees. The thought sends a shiver down my back where another contraction threatens. I bury my face in his neck when it hits. “Breathe, angel, breathe,” he says like a mantra, and I force myself to take a deep inhale. His unique scent envelops me like a soothing balm, providing comfort, as I work through the remaining bit of the contraction.

I don't remember getting into the car because the pain is so intense. It's like there’s a hot knife in my back. All I want to do is close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing. Dimitri sits in the back with me, keeping me cradled to his chest as Enzo drives like a madman on a mission to the hospital.

“My family?” I whimper when a contraction eases enough for me to talk.

Dimitri kisses the crown of my head. “They’re meeting us at the hospital.”

“I want my mom,” I cry.

“I know, angel,” Dimitri says before he pushes his fist into my lower back. The pressure draws a low moan from my mouth at the immediate relief it provides. “She’ll be there. How close are we, Enzo?”

“Next light,” he answers.

When the car finally stops, the door opens to my mother’s concerned face, and I reach out for her. She keeps hold ofmy hand even as Dimitri and Enzo help me out of the car. Dad’s returning with a wheelchair when a contraction unlike the others slams into me with an excruciating pain that brings me to my knees. I feel a gush of fluid between my legs and peer down to see blood staining my dress and dripping down my thighs. Panic seizes me as my worst fear threatens to come true.

“What’s wrong?” I hear Dimitri yell. “What’s happening to my wife and babies?”

A cacophony of overlapping voices engulfs me, drowning out any sense of clarity. I feel adrift in the chaos and reach out instinctively for Dimitri’s reassuring touch. “Dimitri…I need Dimitri…”

“I’m right here,” Dimitri’s voice cuts through the noise and then he’s there, holding my hand and touching my face. I don’t realize how cold I am until I feel the warmth of his touch. “Angel, the babies. Something’s wrong. And they have to operate right away. But I’m right here,” he repeats. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A mask falls over my nose and mouth, but I push it away, needing to tell Dimitri one more thing. I fight through the haze to find his beautiful eyes…eyes that are usually so strong but are now full of pain and fear. “Save them. If it comes down to me or them. You save them.”

The mask returns before he can argue back something stupid like no. Strong hands push my head straight and I stare up into a blinding light before darkness engulfs me completely.

43

Dimitri

It’s a strange feeling being handed a newborn baby, swaddled like a tiny burrito, and then told it’s yours and that now you have to take care of it. It’s an ever more surreal feeling when said baby opens their eyes and looks at you for the first time. Granted, they’re likely seeing a giant blur in place of your face, but it still makes your heart skip a beat.

Our son, born first during Gabriella’s emergency c-section, is going to be a handful, just like his mother. That much was clear the moment he emerged, face flushed with a piercing scream about being forcefully dragged into this world. Our daughter, on the other hand, came out quiet and reserved, the complete opposite of her brother.So quiet, the medical team were worried about her at first. But after a series of tests, she's okay. She's just quiet.

I can’t stop glancing between the pair, one wrapped in pink and the other in blue, sleeping in their bassinets. It’s hard tobelieve they’re finally here, a few weeks earlier than expected, but are thankfully healthy. And that’s all that matters.

“Dimitri?” the soft voice of my angel calls from behind me. I stand and go to her. She reaches for me but winces when the movement pulls at her stitches. I watch as her hand shoots to her belly, which is now visibly flatter, and a wave of panic floods her expression.

Before she can say anything, I grab her hand and squeeze, repeating over and over, “It’s okay. They’re okay. It's okay.”

My reassurance does nothing, though. Her eyes remain wide as she looks around the room, her hysteria growing by the second.

“Gabriella—”

“Where are they?”

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