We’re Married, After All - Chapter 87

What happened next is mostly a blur.

I think I felt the sensation of my water breaking first—or perhaps I passed out from the relentless contractions and overwhelming pain before that.

What I do remember for certain is that there was a lot of blood.

After several fainting spells, the baby finally came, but the bleeding wouldn’t stop. The pain only intensified.

“Ugh… Hngh… Ah…!”

Another wave of labor pains hit, forcing me to gasp desperately for air.

My entire body throbbed with excruciating pain, as if someone were tearing me apart while I was still alive. I tried to take deep breaths, but each inhale only worsened the agony, tightening my abdomen further.

Despite the physician’s frantic efforts to staunch the bleeding, it wouldn’t stop. The pain kept escalating until even the act of breathing required tremendous courage.

Eventually, I nearly stopped breathing altogether. The agony was so unbearable that squeezing the air from my lungs felt more tolerable. My vision darkened, spinning into an endless void.

But I never fully crossed into unconsciousness.

“Laurea… Laurea! Stay with me! Don’t fall asleep—please, wake up!”

Danel’s desperate voice pierced through my fragmented awareness. Something in his tone compelled me to breathe, even against my will.

As soon as I gasped, a tearing pain exploded in my abdomen.

The searing agony jolted me fully awake. At the same time, something warm and wet dripped steadily onto my cheeks. I struggled to lift my heavy eyelids, trying to see what it was—but everything remained shrouded in darkness.

“Laurea! Breathe! You have to breathe if you want to live. Slowly… please…”

Danel’s trembling voice wavered on the edge of hysteria. His icy-cold hands clasped my right hand with a grip that betrayed his desperation.

The pain made me want to give up entirely—but even so, I followed his command and drew another breath.

The metallic tang of blood filled my lungs, stinging my nose. The air was thick with the pungent scent of iron, suffocating and overwhelming.

But I wanted to see Danel. I needed to see the owner of those trembling hands and the tears soaking my cheeks.

Forcing oxygen into my half-numbed brain, I blinked slowly. Through blurry vision, I saw a pale face framed by disheveled golden hair… and a pair of violet eyes shedding an endless stream of tears.

I struggled to form words, my cracked lips barely moving.

“Danel…”

My forehead furrowed as I spoke his name. Just saying that single word left my throat feeling raw, as if I’d swallowed a mouthful of sand. Instinctively, I closed my lips and held my breath—I was so tired of hurting.

But this time, Danel pressed his lips to mine, breathing life directly into me.

Maybe it was the familiar herbal scent clinging to his breath, but breathing didn’t feel as torturous anymore.

The flames of agony that had engulfed me gradually subsided with time. I heard snippets of reassurance—something about passing the worst stage and being able to take painkillers once the bleeding stopped—but the words barely registered.

Through my foggy mind, I gazed down at the baby cradled in my arms.

The difficult delivery had left me too weak to nurse. The midwife had already fetched a wet nurse from the village, so the first time I saw my child, they were peacefully asleep after being fed.

The baby’s forehead was crowned with soft, translucent golden hair. Their eyes were still closed, so I couldn’t tell what color they were yet.

Wrapped snugly in fine linen, the infant was smaller than I’d imagined. Though the midwife assured me the baby was larger than average for a late delivery, they still seemed incredibly fragile to me.

Slowly, I lifted my head to look at the man sitting beside me.

Danel’s face was calm as ever, but fear still lingered in his violet eyes, locked solely on my face.

‘As I thought…’

I shifted my gaze back to the baby. Their delicate features, framed by soft hair, were a perfect reflection of me. The only trait they seemed to share with Danel was their beautiful golden hair.

Reaching out, I gently stroked Danel’s damp cheek, wet with tears. His ivory-pale skin glistened from the trail of his grief.

“Did you have a name in mind? I’m not good at things like that,” I whispered hoarsely.

“…Does that matter right now?”

Danel’s voice was cold, sharp with suppressed emotion. His lips trembled, betraying how deeply affected he was—not by me, but by himself.

Danel grasped my wrist and pressed his face into my palm. His hands, still trembling with lingering anxiety, tightened around mine.

“I’ll… I’ll burn my g******s with fire. This will never happen again.”

“…But I still want to be with you.”

“That won’t stop me from being able to… perform. Just… please, never go through this again, Laurea.”

Hearing the man I loved talking about castrating himself to avoid seeing me pregnant again left me with an odd feeling. Considering how adamant he was now, it seemed ironic that he had once kept me sedated with medicine to avoid confrontation.

I stared at our sleeping baby for a long time. The memory of the excruciating pain that felt like my insides being torn apart had already faded into the distance. Since then, one persistent thought had been circling my mind.

“I… I’d like to have a child who looks like the man I love.”

Danel’s shoulders stiffened at my words. He was probably reacting more to “the man I love” than to the idea of having more children.

The effect seemed significant enough.

For the first time, Danel’s gaze shifted from my face to the baby’s. He studied the child’s features carefully, his eyes tracing the soft arch of the eyebrows, the prominent cheekbones, and the delicate lips tinged with a soft blush—all reflections of me.

As he took in the familiar features, his fingers cautiously reached out to touch the baby’s tiny face. His expression was so gentle and uncertain that I couldn’t help but smile.

My body was still battered—worn down by accumulated fatigue, the strain of pregnancy, and countless wounds, both visible and hidden. My soul, too, felt like a tattered cloth, frayed and threadbare from too many hardships.

But I believed things would get better.

Danel would choose a name for our child. Summer would pass, and the baby would grow. And as we waited for that future to unfold, perhaps our wounds would heal—little by little.