The days had dragged—each one heavier than the last—but finally, the moment arrived.
Anna and Tom had imagined this day in a hundred different ways. They'd whispered about it in the dark, feared it in the silence, hoped for it between gunfire and grief. But nothing, not even the violent rhythm of their old lives, could've prepared them for this.
The labor was brutal. Anna felt like her body was splitting apart, and yet, through the haze of pain, there was something else—anticipation. Every contraction, every agonizing breath brought her closer to meeting the little girl who had already changed everything.
They barely made it to the hospital in time. It was chaos—blinding lights, nurses barking orders, Tom trying to stay calm but looking like he was about to pass out. And then, suddenly, there she was.
A cry. Sharp, pure. Like it cut through the noise of the whole world.
Anna's breath caught. Tears spilled freely as the nurse placed the baby in her arms, slick and perfect, impossibly small.
"Ria," she whispered, voice cracked and trembling. "Hi, baby girl…"
Tom stood frozen. Something in him cracked open when he saw her. He wasn't sure if it was fear, awe, or some ancient instinct to protect this tiny, red-faced bundle with everything he had. Maybe it was all of it.
"She's ours," he said softly, more to himself than to Anna. "She's really here."
Anna nodded, smiling through the exhaustion. "Yeah. We did it."
Tom leaned down and kissed her forehead, lingering there for a moment. "You did it. I just… tried not to pass out."
She chuckled, weakly. "You almost failed."
Later that evening, the hospital room door creaked open and in walked Mark, Levi slung over his shoulder like a little sack of potatoes, Arin close behind, bottle in hand and already wiping spit-up off her jacket.
Mark grinned the moment he saw Tom. "You look like someone ran you over."
Tom slouched in the chair beside Anna's bed, eyes bloodshot. "Feels like it."
"Welcome to the jungle," Mark said, setting Levi down into Arin's arms with a sigh of exaggerated relief. "Two months in and I already don't remember what sleep feels like."
Tom rubbed his face. "I haven't slept since Tuesday."
"It's Thursday, bro."
Anna rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, who's the one who just pushed a baby out of her body?"
Mark raised his hands in surrender. "Fair point. Respect."
He walked over and peered down at Ria, who was now sleeping in Anna's arms. His whole expression softened.
"She's beautiful," he said, voice lower now. Sincere. "You did good."
Tom watched his friend closely. Mark wasn't the type to get sentimental, not unless he meant it. "Thanks."
Mark turned to him, smirking. "But seriously, man. You look like you just survived a shootout. Not your usual brand of cool."
Tom exhaled, his voice flat. "This is a war I didn't train for."
Mark chuckled. "Parenthood? Yeah, it's a special kind of hell. But don't worry. I've got you."
Arin raised an eyebrow from across the room. "Says the guy who fed Levi cold formula last night because he didn't check the bottle."
Mark looked defensive. "It was room temp! Barely!"
"Still," she muttered. "You're not exactly Father of the Year material."
Mark turned back to Tom with a shrug. "What can I say? I'm a work in progress."
Anna smiled faintly, eyes closed, her fingers tracing Ria's blanket. "So are we all."
Later, when Ria was asleep in her crib and the room had quieted, Tom sat beside Mark near the window, the city lights flickering outside. Anna dozed lightly, and Arin was rocking Levi in the corner, whispering something only he could hear.
Tom stared ahead, hands clasped. "You ever think we'd get here? Like… this far?"
Mark didn't answer right away. He just looked at Tom, the lines in his face deeper now, the weight of years between them hanging in the air.
"I didn't," Mark said finally. "But I'm glad we did."
Tom nodded, his voice low. "Everything's different now."
Mark leaned back, letting out a long breath. "Yeah. And it should be."
They sat in silence for a beat, the kind that only old friends could share.
Then Mark added, "But don't think I'm gonna go easy on you just 'cause you're a dad now. I'm still the better parent."
Tom scoffed. "Levi ate your shoelace last week."
Mark grinned. "And lived to tell the tale. That's top-tier parenting, my friend."
Tom smiled, just a little, and leaned back.
For a minute, the past felt like another lifetime. And maybe, just maybe, they could leave it there.