Armani
The hospital room seemed to close in around me, the antiseptic smell burning my nostrils as Rena's question hung in the air between us. Her pale face, framed by tangled hair against the stark white pillow, made my chest constrict.
"Did I lose him, Armani?" she whispered again, her voice breaking. "Our baby... tell me I didn't—"
The words stabbed through me. In that moment, the concept of fatherhood—which had until now been abstract, distant—suddenly crashed into me with the force of a tidal wave. My child. Our child. His existence had been a fact I'd acknowledged intellectually, but seeing Rena like this, vulnerable and terrified about our unborn son's fate, transformed everything.
I moved closer, taking her delicate hand in mine. Her skin felt cool, fragile, like porcelain that
