The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 508

Mia's POV

The fourth puppy comes while Alexander is still counting.

I barely register it. My hands move on autopilot—catch, tear, clear, rub. This one fights from the first second, squirming and protesting, and I place it near Gas's belly without really seeing it. The smell of blood and birth is thick in my nose now.

"Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine—"

Alexander's voice has gone hoarse. Scratchy. Like he's been yelling at a soccer game for hours.

The fifth one slides out easier than the others. Already crying before I clear its face. Strong. Angry. Alive.

"Fifty-two, fifty-three—"

"Alexander." Ethan's voice cuts through. "Your hands."

"I'm fine."

"They're shaking. You need to switch."

"I said I'm fine—"

"You're going to hurt it."

"I don't want to stop," he whispers. "What if I stop—"

"It won't be your fault." Kyle's voice "Nothing about this is your fault. But Ethan's right. Your muscles are tired. Madison can take over for a few minutes."

"But—"

"You're not giving up. You're being smart. There's a difference."

The shuffle of small bodies rearranging themselves. A knee hitting hardwood. Someone's elbow bumping someone else.

"Like this?" Madison's voice is so quiet I almost miss it.

"Softer," Ethan says. "It's really small. Pretend you're... pretend you're petting a butterfly."

"I've never petted a butterfly."

"Then pretend you're petting something you don't want to break."

A pause. I can hear Madison breathing. Thinking.

"Okay," she whispers. "Okay, I can do that."

Gas whines behind me.

I turn back to her. Her whole body is trembling now. Not from contractions—from exhaustion. She's been at this for hours. Her tongue lolls out, pink and dry. Her eyes are half-closed, the third eyelid showing at the corners. She looks like she wants to sleep for a thousand years.

"One more, girl." I stroke her head. Her fur is damp with sweat. "I think there's one more. Can you do one more?"

She doesn't respond. Just breathes. In and out. In and out. Her ribs rise and fall under my hand.

The sixth puppy takes forever.

Not really. Probably five minutes. But it feels like forever, waiting for Gas's body to find the strength for one more push, one more contraction, one more effort. I watch her sides tense. Release. Tense again. Come on, I think. Come on, girl. You're almost there.

I place the sixth puppy with the others. Five healthy puppies now, nursing and climbing over each other, making those small mewling sounds that mean I'm hungry and I'm cold and where is everyone.

Kyle on the floor, his back against the couch, his face gray with exhaustion. Alexander pressed against his side, tear tracks drying on his cheeks, snot glistening under his nose. Ethan cross-legged nearby, his phone abandoned. Madison bent over the tiny form in the towel, her hands moving in the rhythm Ethan taught her, her lips moving silently.

She's counting. I realize. She's counting in her head because she doesn't want to mess up the numbers.

"Hey." My voice comes out scratchy. Wrong. I clear my throat. "Hey, there's six. Six puppies. "

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