When I woke, three eggs lay nestled in the incubator beside me. Draco sat at my side, gently wiping the sweat from my brow with a soft towel.
I was just about to speak when a scream pierced the air–it was Bella.
“I can’t do this! I don’t want to give birth anymore! Just kill me, please! Kill me now!”
“Bella, hold on! You’re almost there!”
Her sobbing and the midwife’s encouragement overlapped in a chantic chorus. Our birthing rooms were separated by only a single wall. She was still in the middle of labor.
“Clarice, you’ve been through so much,” Draco murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead. His gaze held concern, guilt, and overwhelming tenderness.