Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave) novel Chapter 39

Lydia POV

The moment my water broke, my entire brain stopped functioning.

For exactly three seconds, I just stood there.

Wet.

Frozen.

Staring at the floor like if I ignored it long enough, my body might take it back.

Then another contraction hit.

Hard.

Sharp enough to bend me in half.

“Oh my God-”

I lunged for my phone on the couch and nearly dropped it twice trying to unlock it.

My hands were shaking so badly I misdialed the first time.

By the time emergency services answered, I was breathing like I had run a marathon.

“My water broke,” I blurted. “I’m alone and I’m pregnant and I think, okay I definitely think this is labor because something is trying to rip me open from the inside-” 1

The dispatcher, unfairly calm, began asking questions.

How far along was I?

Had contractions started?

How frequent?

Was anyone with me?

“No,” I said, then another contraction hit and I nearly screamed. “No, it’s just me and unfortunately that remains deeply inconvenient right now”

She told me help was on the way.

Those next minutes stretched strangely.

Too fast and too slow at once.

I paced.

Then couldn’t pace.

Then crouched on the floor breathing through another contraction while muttering prayers and threats at my unborn children.

“You could have waited till morning,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Civilized babies wait till morning”

The knock came like salvation.

Paramedics.

A midwife.

estions

Hands

Movement

Everything blurred.

The ambulance was too bright.

Too loud.

Too fast.

They strapped me in while one of them timed contractions.

“Breathe with me,” the midwife said.

Easy for her to say.

She was not being slowly disassembled from the pelvis outward.

I gripped the rails of the stretcher so hard my fingers hurt.

“How far apart?”

“About three minutes.”

“Oh fantastic,” I snapped. “Love that for me.”

The midwife laughed.

I hated her for being cheerful.

Then another contraction hit and I forgot everyone’s name, including my own.

At the hospital, things moved quickly.

Questions.

Forms.

Consent.

Blood pressure.

Monitors strapped around my stomach.

Then one nurse frowned.

Another came in.

Then the doctor.

Then ultrasound.

Then

The doctor looked at me.

“Well,” she said, “that explains a lot.”

My heart stopped.

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“What

“You’re having twins, so your delivery will be Nightly different from a single chнd”

Silence.

1 blinked.

“What?”

I stared at her.

Then at the monitor.

Then back at her.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Another contraction hit before I could process it.

And I screamed.

Labor became its own universe after that.

Time stopped making sense.

There was only pain.

Pressure.

Breathing.

Counting.

The room was cold and bright and utterly indifferent to the fact that my body was being pushed past every limit it possessed.

Hours blurred.

The contractions intensified until speech became impossible.

Then thought.

Then dignity.

At some point they checked me again.

“Six centimeters.”

I stared at them in disbelief.

“ONLY six?”

The nurse smiled sympathetically.

I wanted to fight her.

By the time I reached full dilation, I had stopped pretending to be brave.

I was cryop

Sweating

Hall delirious

Threatening legal action against everyone involved in conception, yes especialry that damned Dave.

“Is my baby okay?”

“Yes,” she said immediately. “But we need to make this easier on your body.”

More force.

Pressure.

A cry.

I burst into tears before they even placed him beside me.

“Second baby coming,” the doctor said.

Right.

Because apparently suffering came in pairs now.

Four minutes later-

A different kind of silence filled the room.

Not bad.

Just strange.

Quiet.

Then a softer cry.

Almost offended

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The nurse laughed.

“And there she is

They laid her beside her brother

Tiny

Alert.

Serious somehow, even fresh from birth.

As if she had arrived already assessing the room.

I looked at both of them. 1

At my son still screaming like the world owed him explanations.

At my daughter blinking around like she was already taking inventory.

And something inside me broke open.

Not trom pain.

Not from fear.

From something else..

A feeling so overwhelming I could barely breathe around it.

I had done it.

I had survived.

I had left everything behind.

Built a life from scraps.

Carried them alone.

Protected them alone.

And here they were.

Real.

Warm.

Mine.

I pressed trembling kisses to both their heads and cried harder than I had since the night I left.

Not because I was hurting.

But because for the first time in months

The suffering had become something.

Something breathing.

Something worth every loss.

I looked down at them and whispered through tears,

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“Hi, babies.”

My son sneezed.

My daughter frowned.

And despite everything

I laughed. 1