Bellamy POV
7 months later
Bellamy POV
I looked like a whale.
I mean, Tristan told me every single day how beautiful I looked—how I glowed, how I was radiant, how I looked like a goddess carrying his child. But deep down, I knew the truth.
I looked like a whale.
A hot, swollen, hormonal whale with fat feet and a belly so round it felt like I was smuggling a watermelon under my dress.
But I was still functioning. Waddling, yes, but still functioning.
Today was important. I was presenting the final rebranding plan for Eden Resort—the one Tristan put me in charge of months ago. And even though I was literally in the last week of my pregnancy, I was excited. Nervous, but excited.
I wore a soft cream dress with low heels and even attempted makeup. It took three tries and a mental breakdown over my eyeliner, but I made it work.
“I swear, if anyone breathes too hard near me, I might float away like a hot air balloon,” I muttered as I walked into the boardroom.
Tristan chuckled, walking behind me with his hand on the small of my back. “You’re breathtaking, Bellamy. Like… literally.”
I rolled my eyes. “Go to your meeting.”
He grinned, kissed my cheek, and disappeared down the hall.
The boardroom filled up fast. Executives. Designers. Marketing people. I took a deep breath, smiled at the room, and clicked the remote to start my presentation.
Everything was going perfectly. I was halfway through explaining the guest villa redesign when suddenly—I felt something.
Something wet. Oh my god. I froze. At first, I thought I maybe… peed?
But then the warm gush kept going, and I realized—oh no, no, no…
I leaned into the mic and whispered, “I think my water broke.”
Every man in the boardroom stared at me, horrified, frozen like statues. Their eyes wide, some blinking rapidly, others looking like they were about to pass out.
The women? Different story.
“Oh my god!” one of the assistants screamed, rushing toward me. “We need to get her to the hospital!”
“Call an ambulance!” another shouted.
I stood there, stunned, still trying to process it.
Then the door flew open.
“WHAT’S GOING ON?!” Tristan bellowed, looking completely out of breath, hair messed up, tie flung over his shoulder.
“I think—” I gasped, holding my belly, “my water broke!”
Chaos erupted.
Tristan yanked his phone out. “Yes, we need an ambulance—NOW! My girlfriend is having a baby! No, not in the parking lot, inside the boardroom!”
By the time the paramedics came, I was lying down, holding Tristan’s hand, trying not to cry from nerves.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, brushing the hair from my forehead.
***
The hospital was cold and white and blindingly fast. They rushed me into a labor room, and the nurse looked between my legs and gasped.
“Oh wow, you’re close, honey!”
“What does close mean?!” I shouted.
“Didn’t you feel any contractions before this?” she asked, pulling gloves on.
“I mean, kind of?” I whimpered. “But I thought it was just Braxton Hicks, or indigestion! I had a burrito last night!”
She blinked. “Well, no more burritos because you’re about to have a baby!”
They strapped the monitor around my belly, watching my contractions spike on the screen.
Tristan stood beside me, holding my hand tight.
I screamed. Like, really screamed. And then just long, dramatic moans of WHY DOES THIS HURT SO MUCH?!
“Push, Bellamy!” the doctor said.
“I AM PUSHING! I’m literally dying!” I cried.
“You’re not dying,” Tristan whispered, kissing my forehead. “You’re strong. You’ve got this. You’re doing amazing.”
I cried harder. “Why are you being so nice?! I hate you for doing this to me!”
He laughed through the panic. “Just push, baby.”
And I did. I pushed. And screamed. And cried. And then, finally, I heard it. A cry.
A real, tiny, beautiful cry.
“She’s here,” the doctor said.
The room paused for a second, filled only with the sound of a newborn baby.
They placed her on my chest, and I sobbed.
Our baby.
Tiny fingers. Wrinkled skin. A little tuft of dark hair. Tristan kissed my cheek, his own eyes glassy with tears. “You did it.”
I looked at him, weak but smiling. “What’s her name?”
He paused, brushing a finger over her soft cheek.
“Veronica,” he whispered. “Her name is Veronica.”
I smiled through my tears. “That’s beautiful.”
We sat there, the three of us, wrapped in warmth, love, and this brand-new beginning. As I stared at her, my heart swelled. And in that moment, a memory flashed in my mind.
That night at the bar.
I had whispered to the universe, to the ceiling, to my father in heaven:
Daddy, I need you.
And now…
Looking at Veronica. Looking at Tristan. Feeling whole for the first time in forever…
I realized—
He heard me.