The Villainess Needs a Hug (Ivy Windsor) novel Chapter 893

He specifically said, *I'll be waiting for you,* not *I'll be waiting for you and the babies.* In that moment, his eyes and his heart were solely focused on his wife.

"I'll be out before you know it," she murmured. Even though she was the one about to be cut open, she was the one comforting him.

Jamison felt a hot prickle behind his eyes. He leaned down, pressing several heavy kisses against her forehead, squeezed her hand one last time, and then reluctantly turned to leave the room.

The surrounding nurses watched the exchange with unconcealed envy. "Ivy, you and Dr. Ludwig have such an incredible bond. You've got us all tearing up."

Ivy offered a shy smile, took a deep breath like a warrior preparing for battle, and nodded. "Let's do this."

Out in the maternity ward hallway, Jamison experienced the agonizing reality of seconds stretching into years.

Why was it agonizing *again*?

Because he had already lived through this exact, suffocating terror. Last year, when Emma pulled Ivy off that building and Ivy was rushed into emergency surgery, he had felt this exact same dread.

It was an indescribable blend of panic, anxiety, and a fierce, helpless hatred toward his inability to take the pain in her place.

And now, he was trapped in that nightmare all over again.

While he knew childbirth was a natural process, seeing the woman he loved go through it made him think whoever designed human biology was an absolute bastard.

Why did women have to bear this burden alone? There should be biological equality—couples should have the choice of whether the husband or the wife carried the child.

Just as Jamison was pacing in a state of sheer torment, his phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen: it was his mother, Adela.

Had the news somehow leaked?

"Hello, Mom."

"Jamison! How's Ivy doing? Isn't she full-term today? Did you two head to the hospital for her checkup yet?"

Carrying twins meant weekly hospital checkups and daily fetal heart monitoring at home in the final stretch. Adela knew they were on high alert and had deliberately avoided calling too often, but knowing today marked the thirty-eight-week milestone, she couldn't hold back her concern.

Jamison gripped the phone, his face taut with anxiety as his gaze instinctively flicked toward the heavy doors of the operating room.

Before he could answer, Adela launched into an excited ramble. "I had the craziest dream last night! I dreamt Ivy delivered a boy and a girl! I told your father this morning, and he laughed at me, saying I was losing my mind. The doctors already said they're identical twins, so they have to be the same gender... Anyway, boy or girl, it doesn't matter! I just hate seeing her suffer, so the sooner she delivers, the better..."

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