Three years later
Vishal
“Dude, calm down. She’ll be fine,” Scott says firmly, patting my shoulder.
“They’ve been in there for hours, man. How the hell do you expect me to be calm?” I retort, standing from the chair and pacing back and forth again.
Everyone here cares for and loves Jane. Their support means everything to me; they are the only reason I am still holding it together.
I pace the hallway, trying to avoid bumping into the nurses hurrying past us. It’s the Pack’s hospital, and we’ve been here since dawn.
Jane’s water broke, and we rushed her here. It’s been ten hours, and still nothing. Her piercing cries come at intervals, and they unsettle me. I can’t relax until it’s all over and she gives birth to our first child safely.
“Hi, Uncle Vishal,” three-year-old Smith blubber
