Chapter 745 The Baby Is Coming
Yunice rubbed her forehead, then suddenly gasped, her eyes widening in shock as she looked at her belly. Moments later, she steadied herself.
Wyatt jumped up, alarmed. “What is it? Are you in pain?”
He immediately reached for the call bell to summon Joe.
Yunice caught his hand, stopping him. “Don’t make a fuss. It’s normal. He just kicked me a little hard, that’s all.”
She had winced only because the kick hurt.
Wyatt stared at her rounded belly with open envy. “I want to feel him kick, too.”
Yunice slapped his restless hand away.
He started to pull back, disappointed – until she caught his hand and pressed it firmly against her stomach.
Before he could react, he felt it: a sudden bump beneath his palm.
His heart jolted, his breath catching at the strange, miraculous sensation. His pulse raced.
A grin broke out across his face. “Of course it’s a boy – such strength!”
For the first time, Wyatt felt the reality of the new life.
He pressed his hand to the same spot, giving a mock stern warning. “Hey, brat! Don’t hurt your mom in there.”
And inwardly, he added, "Brat, I’m your father. Remember my voice."
Three months later, Yunice’s belly had grown heavy – her due date was near.
Wyatt had cleared most of his workload, moving his office into the hospital so he could be close. Every day, he studied childcare manuals, attended prenatal classes, vowing to be the perfect hands-on father.
He wasn’t just going to be a dad – he was going to outdo everyone.
But the sight of Victor showing up in the same parenting class drove him wild.
Victor even teased him: once the baby arrived, he’d sneak in and teach it to call him dad.
Wyatt nearly exploded. Instead, he bribed a few female classmates to relentlessly pester Victor during every session. Within two weeks, Victor, harassed to exhaustion, dropped out.
Yunice knew none of this. She only had to be a peaceful, pampered expectant mother, with Wyatt filtering away every irritation.
Half a month later, one night, Yunice tossed restlessly in bed.
Wyatt noticed immediately. He switched on the small night lamp and looked over – she was wide awake.
In her final weeks, the baby pressed on her stomach so much she often burned with acid reflux, forcing her to sleep sitting up.
Wyatt often stayed awake all night with her, helpless but attentive – holding the basin, fetching water, waiting until the nausea passed before easing her back down.
This time, Yunice pushed the basin away.
Then her eyes sharpened. “Did you hear that pop?”
Wyatt blinked. “No…”
But the next instant, both of them looked up at once. “Water broke?!”
He remembered from class: when the amniotic sac ruptures, there’s a faint popping sound.
It was time, two weeks early.
Wyatt shot upright so fast Yunice startled.
She groaned, exasperated. “Stop panicking.”
She swung her legs over the bed.
Wyatt rushed to stop her. “Don’t move – I’ll get the wheelchair.”
But Yunice shook her head. “Labor doesn’t start instantly. Walking helps the baby descend more smoothly.”
All the months of study evaporated from Wyatt’s mind. His brain felt scooped clean.
Yunice, calmer than him, supported her waist and walked steadily toward the delivery room.
The ward had already been prepared.
As her body opened, the contractions deepened, each wave forcing her to draw long, measured breaths.
She wasn’t the type to cry out. Even with labor pain tearing through her, she kept it in, her tightly furrowed brows the only sign of her struggle.
The door to the delivery room swung shut.
Wyatt was left outside, pacing in torment.
From nearby rooms came the cries of other women in labor.
But from Yunice’s room – silence.
It tore at him, the contradiction in his heart: part of him longed to hear her voice, proof she was still fighting. And part of him dreaded it – terrified she might be in too much pain.