I leaned in, my voice taking on a persuasive tone.
"Anissa, let him go," I urged.
"Let us have our happiness."
Clyde's love was my shield.
I flaunted it.
"Every moment with Clyde reaffirms our connection," I said.
"Every kiss, every touch, every whispered promise."
Anissa's eyes flashed.
Anger.
Pain.
"Clyde's chosen me," I emphasized.
"Our child."
Tears streamed down Anissa's face.
"Clyde will never truly be yours," I said.
"Not while I hold his heart."
My words cut deep.
Anissa's composure crumbled.
"You're cruel," she spat.
"You're taking everything from me."
I stood firm.
"Clyde's free will chose me," I countered.
"His love, his heart, his future."
Anissa's face twisted.
Hatred.
Resentment.
"Let us get marry," I pleaded.
"Let us build our love life together.. let's forget all these fights."
Anissa's laughter was bitter.
"You'll never have that," she snarled.
"Clyde will always be tied to me."
Our child.
The shared past.
I smiled.
"Clyde's already mine," I declared.
"In every way that matters."
Anissa's face contorted, anger and stress etched on her features. She clutched her belly, her eyes pleading.
"Please, Dahlia...help me," she begged.
"Take me to the hospital."
I sneered, thinking she was faking.
"You're not fooling me, Anissa," I spat.
But Anissa's face turned ghostly pale.
She swayed.
Collapsed.
I panicked.
This wasn't acting.
"Clyde!" I screamed into my phone.
"Anissa's collapsed!."
"Call an ambulance!" Clyde yelled back.
I dialed.
Dispatch answered.
"Emergency services, what's your location?"
I rattled off Anissa's address.
"Please hurry."
As I waited.
Pain gripped my abdomen.
My own water broke.
"No...not now," I whispered.
Labor.
Too early.
Fear seized me.
For myself.
For my baby.
For Anissa's unconscious form.
The ambulance screeched.
Paramedics rushed in.
"Two patients," one shouted.
Anissa.
Me.
Stretcher.
Rush.
Hospital.
Clyde's frantic voice.
"Dahlia!."
"I'm coming!"
Clyde paced outside the labor room, his eyes fixed on the door, his mind racing with thoughts of me and our unborn child. Every passing moment felt like an eternity.
Meanwhile, Anissa's doctor emerged, his face etched with grave concern.
"Clyde, I need your decision," he said, his voice laced with urgency. "Anissa's having complications. We must choose between saving her or the baby."
Clyde's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. No hesitation.
"The child," he said firmly, his voice resolute. "Save the child."
The doctor nodded and rushed back into Anissa's room.
Minutes ticked by.
I pushed, sweat dripping from my brow, pain coursing through my body.
"Our baby's coming!" the nurse exclaimed.
With one final push, our child entered the world, its first cry filling the room.
Tears of joy streamed down my face.
Clyde burst in, holding me tight.
"Thank God," he whispered, relief washing over him. "Our baby's here."
But Anissa's fate lingered, uncertain.
The doctor emerged, a mix of exhaustion and relief on his face.
"Anissa and the baby made it," he announced. "Both stable."
Clyde's expression remained stoic.
No celebration.
Only guilt?
Regret?
Anissa's doctor approached Clyde.
"Your decision saved the child," he said. "But Anissa's road to recovery will be long."
Clyde nodded, his eyes avoiding mine.
The weight of his choice hung in the air.
I cradled Salomi, my precious daughter, and Aarohi, Anissa's adorable baby girl, in my arms. Their gentle coos filled the air as I gazed lovingly at their tiny faces.
"Salomi," I whispered, smiling at my child.
"Aarohi," I breathed, looking at Anissa's daughter.
Their names symbolized hope and new beginnings.
As I hugged them both, clarity washed over me.
This was my family now.
Clyde, Salomi, and Aarohi.
The next five days blurred together in a whirlwind of activity.
Preparations for the christening ceremony consumed me.
Choosing delicate gowns.
Selecting godparents.
Finalizing the guest list.
Clyde supported me every step.
Together, we crafted a beautiful celebration.
For our daughters.
For our love.
For our new family.
The day of the christening arrived.
Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows.
Soft music filled the air.
Friends and family gathered.
Clyde stood beside me.
Salomi and Aarohi slept peacefully.
In matching white gowns.
Their tiny hands clasped together.
As the priest blessed them.
I glanced at Clyde.
Tears shimmered.
In his eyes.
In mine.
We exchanged vows.
To love.
To protect.
To guide.
Our daughters.
Together.