Chapter 3

The surgical delivery room was cold.

Too cold.

Bright white lights reflected harshly off silver surgical tools while machines beeped steadily around the room. Nurses moved carefully between stations preparing equipment while doctors quietly discussed final surgical details nearby.

Everything smelled sterile.

Sharp.

Clean.

Malia hated hospitals.

Not because she feared them.

But because hospitals always reminded her how fragile her body truly was.

She laid flat against the operating table now, dressed in a pale blue surgical gown while warm blankets rested over parts of her body. The epidural had already been placed, leaving the lower half of her body numb and heavy.

The oxygen tubing still rested beneath her nose.

Her long hair had been braided loosely to keep it away from the surgical area, though strands still framed her exhausted face.

And God…

She looked tired.

Not just physically.

Soul tired.

Montez stood beside her dressed in black surgical scrubs with his hands sanitized and gloved. The massive Mafia king looked strangely out of place in a medical room.

Too dangerous. Too intense.

Yet somehow…

He was the calmest thing there.

Malia looked toward the doorway again.

Still.

Even now.

Still looking for Johnathan.

Montez noticed immediately.

His jaw tightened.

“He ain’t coming in here.”

The words came out flatter than intended.

Malia looked away slowly.

“…okay.”

That soft acceptance nearly pissed him off more than if she’d cried.

The anesthesiologist adjusted her IV gently.

“You may feel pressure during delivery, sweetheart, but you shouldn’t feel pain.”

Malia nodded faintly.

The doctor looked over the surgical drape.

“We’re beginning now.”

Everything suddenly became very real.

Malia’s breathing trembled slightly beneath the oxygen.

Montez looked down at her quietly.

“You scared?”

Malia swallowed.

“A little.”

“That’s normal.”

Silence settled briefly while the doctors began the procedure behind the curtain.

Malia stared blankly upward at the surgical lights.

Then quietly—

“…I thought he’d be here.”

Montez shut his eyes briefly.

Because honestly?

So did he.

The fact Johnathan still hadn’t come made something dark twist in his chest.

He knew Gia was dramatic. Knew she was laboring loudly. Knew she manipulated situations constantly.

But this?

Missing your wife’s C-section after she almost died?

That shit crossed a line.

Montez looked down at Malia again.

She looked so heartbreakingly small laying there alone.

And suddenly…

Years of regret hit him all at once.

Years.

Years of watching her silently endure things she never deserved.

Years of wondering what would've happened if the arranged engagement had never changed.

If Gia had never inserted herself between everything.

If he had simply fought harder for Malia back then.

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

“…I wish I would’ve married you instead.”

Silence.

Even the machines seemed quieter.

Malia’s eyes widened slowly.

She turned toward him fully now.

Montez stared ahead at the surgical curtain while speaking low.

“That’s how it was supposed to happen.”

Malia blinked weakly.

Years ago…

The original arrangement between the families had been clear.

Montez and Malia. Johnathan and someone else entirely.

That had been the plan.

Until Gia.

Gia flirted. Manipulated. Cried. Inserted herself constantly until the family arrangement shifted around her wants.

And Malia…

Malia quietly stepped aside.

Like always.

Montez laughed bitterly under his breath.

“You know what the fucked up part is?”

Malia stared at him silently.

“You would’ve actually been happy with me.”

The statement hit hard.

Because deep down?

Malia knew it might’ve been true.

Not because she didn’t love Johnathan.

She did.

God, she did.

But Montez…

Montez noticed her.

Always.

Even when nobody else did.

A tear slipped down Malia’s face quietly.

Montez immediately noticed.

“…damn.”

Carefully, he wiped it away with his gloved hand.

“You crying before the baby even here?”

Malia let out the tiniest shaky laugh through tears.

Then suddenly—

The doctor spoke up.

“We’re almost there.”

Everything in the room shifted instantly.

Nurses moved quicker. Monitors beeped steadily. The pressure against Malia’s stomach intensified.

Malia winced softly.

Montez grabbed her hand immediately.

“Breathe.”

Her fingers squeezed his tightly.

Then—

A sound filled the room.

A loud newborn cry.

Sharp. Beautiful. Alive.

The entire room paused for one perfect second.

Then the doctor smiled.

“It’s a boy.”

Malia’s breath caught instantly.

A boy.

Their baby.

After four years. After all the pressure. All the waiting. All the pain.

Their son was finally here.

The baby cried loudly while nurses carefully cleaned him nearby beneath the warmer lights.

Tiny. Beautiful. Perfect.

Montez stared for a second.

Then quietly muttered:

“…damn.”

Even he looked emotional.

The nurse smiled warmly.

“He’s gorgeous.”

The baby had thick dark hair already. Tiny curled fists. Strong lungs judging by the volume of his crying.

And despite everything…

He looked healthy.

Strong.

Malia started crying immediately.

Harder this time.

Not quiet tears anymore.

Real tears.

Emotional. Overwhelming. Broken.

Montez looked alarmed instantly.

“Malia—”

“He’s here…”

Her voice cracked violently.

“He’s finally here…”

The nurse wrapped the baby carefully in a soft blanket before handing him toward Montez briefly so Malia could see him easier.

The massive Mafia king suddenly looked absurdly gentle holding the newborn.

Montez carefully walked beside her bed.

“Aight little man,” he murmured quietly. “Meet your mama.”

Malia looked down at her son.

And completely shattered emotionally.

Because he was real.

Actually real.

Her baby.

The little life she protected for months while slowly falling apart emotionally herself.

Malia sobbed quietly now.

Montez carefully lowered the baby closer so she could touch him.

Her trembling fingers brushed against the baby’s tiny cheek softly.

And suddenly—

Everything started pouring out.

All the hurt. All the exhaustion. All the loneliness.

All the times she silently accepted less.

Malia cried harder.

“He missed it…”

The sentence came out broken.

Montez’s expression darkened instantly.

Because despite everything happening…

That was still what hurt her most.

Johnathan wasn’t there.

Not for the birth. Not for the first cry. Not for this moment.

Malia looked at her baby again through tears.

“He waited four years for him…”

Her voice cracked harder.

“And he’s not here…”

Montez looked away sharply.

Because suddenly he was angry too.

Not just irritated.

Angry.

At his brother. At Gia. At the families. At every moment that brought Malia to this point emotionally.

The newborn squirmed softly while crying again.

Montez adjusted him carefully.

Then quieter—

“He gon’ know you was here though.”

Malia looked up weakly.

Montez’s expression softened slightly.

“That baby gon’ know who stayed.”

The maternity floor was absolute chaos by the time Malia was wheeled out of surgery.

Nurses moved quickly through the hallways while security tried keeping both families from overwhelming the staff completely.

And somewhere nearby—

People were yelling.

Loudly.

“Oh my God, she had a girl?!” “The inheritance changes now!” “Westlend girls are rare!” “Mr. Harold’s gonna lose his damn mind—”

Malia slowly blinked awake beneath the soft hospital lights while her bed rolled through the hallway.

Her body hurt.

Everything hurt.

The numbness from surgery still lingered beneath the pain medication, leaving her feeling heavy and detached. The oxygen remained beneath her nose while the newborn bassinet rolled carefully beside her bed.

Inside it—

Her son slept peacefully wrapped in a soft cream blanket.

Tiny. Perfect. Completely unaware of the emotional disaster he’d been born into already.

Malia looked at him weakly.

Her chest tightened softly.

Her baby.

Their baby.

Yet the loud screaming coming from Gia’s recovery suite nearby made the moment feel almost stolen somehow.

The closer they rolled past the hallway—

The louder the arguing became.

“Why is everybody acting weird?!” “Because the old man wanted another male heir!” “Oh shut the fuck up!” “She literally JUST gave birth!”

Malia shut her eyes tiredly.

Even now.

Even after everything.

Still chaos.

Still family drama.

Still competition.

The nurses quickly wheeled her toward her private recovery room while Montez stepped out into the hallway nearby.

And immediately spotted Johnathan.

Johnathan stood outside Gia’s recovery suite looking emotionally wrecked.

Absolutely wrecked.

His dress shirt sleeves were rolled unevenly. His hair looked disheveled. His face pale from stress and exhaustion.

And honestly?

He looked miserable.

Montez glared at him instantly.

A long. Cold. Dangerous glare.

Johnathan noticed immediately.

The brothers stared at each other silently across the hallway.

Montez’s expression practically screamed:

You missed it.

Johnathan looked away first.

“…it’s a girl.”

Montez blinked once.

Inside the suite behind Johnathan, yelling exploded again.

Gia’s voice rang loudest.

“I DON’T CARE WHAT GRANDFATHER THINKS!” “SHE’S STILL A WESTLEND!”

Some older relatives argued loudly back.

“It changes the inheritance structure!” “Oh my God, can y’all shut the fuck up?!” “Not in front of the baby!”

Montez groaned deeply.

“Jesus fucking Christ…”

Johnathan rubbed both hands over his face.

“Everybody’s losing their damn minds in there.”

Montez looked toward the recovery room door with visible disgust.

“A child got born ten damn minutes ago and they already talking about money.”

Johnathan laughed bitterly.

“That’s this family.”

Montez looked back toward him sharply.

“Nah. That’s YOUR problem.”

Johnathan froze slightly.

Montez stepped closer now.

“You missed your son being born.”

The statement hit hard.

Johnathan visibly flinched.

“I know.”

“You weren’t there for your wife.”

“I KNOW.”

His voice cracked louder this time.

The hallway briefly fell silent.

Johnathan looked like he hated himself now.

Because deep down?

He did.

He looked toward Malia’s recovery room door.

“…how is she?”

Montez stared at him for a long moment.

Then answered flatly:

“She cried.”

Johnathan shut his eyes immediately.

Fuck.

Montez’s voice lowered dangerously.

“She kept looking at the damn door waiting for you.”

That almost physically knocked the breath from Johnathan’s chest.

Because he could picture it too easily.

Malia laying there scared and exhausted while still expecting him to come back.

Montez looked disgusted now.

“That girl gave you every piece of herself and you still left her sitting alone.”

Johnathan swallowed hard.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t give a fuck what you meant.”

The brothers stared at each other tensely.

Then finally Montez sighed heavily.

“…I’m going back in there before Gia throws another damn IV pole.”

He walked past Johnathan toward the recovery suite.

The second he opened the door—

Gia was already yelling again.

“I DON’T WANT THOSE FLOWERS IN HERE!” “Mrs. Westlend, please calm down—” “NO!”

Montez immediately closed the door behind him.

Peace at last.

At least temporarily.

Meanwhile—

Down the hallway—

Malia rested quietly in her recovery bed.

The room lights were dimmed softly now while the baby slept beside her peacefully in the bassinet.

Everything finally felt still.

Too still.

Malia looked exhausted emotionally.

Not crying anymore.

Not angry.

Just empty.

Like she no longer had energy left for disappointment.

The door opened quietly.

Johnathan stepped inside slowly.

The second he saw the bassinet—

He froze.

Completely.

Their son.

Actually here.

For a moment he just stared.

The baby had thick dark hair already. Tiny fists curled beside his cheeks. A peaceful sleeping face.

And instantly—

Emotion hit Johnathan like a truck.

“Oh my God…”

His voice broke immediately.

He walked closer slowly like he couldn’t believe the baby was real.

“That’s my son…”

Malia looked over weakly from the hospital bed.

Her expression stayed soft.

But not happy.

Not the way he expected.

And that hurt worse somehow.

Johnathan looked between her and the baby again.

Then finally whispered:

“…he’s beautiful.”

Malia nodded faintly.

“He looks like you.”

Johnathan looked at her carefully now.

Really looked at her.

And finally saw it.

The sadness.

Not dramatic. Not loud.

Just quiet heartbreak sitting behind her eyes.

Because he hadn’t come back.

Johnathan’s chest tightened painfully.

“Malia…”

She looked away softly toward the bassinet.

“It’s okay.”

There it was again.

Those two words.

The same damn words she always used when she was hurting most.

Johnathan walked toward the bed slowly.

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s not.”

Malia stayed silent.

Johnathan sat carefully beside her bed.

His eyes looked glossy now.

“I’m sorry.”

Malia’s fingers tightened slightly against the blanket.

“I didn’t wanna leave you.”

“But you did.”

The sentence came out soft.

Barely above a whisper.

And somehow?

The next morning, sunlight poured softly through the hospital windows.

For the first time in days…

The room looked peaceful.

Malia rested quietly against the raised hospital bed dressed in a beautiful cream silk nightgown the nurses had helped her into earlier that morning. Her long wavy hair spilled over her shoulders and down the bed in soft waves, freshly brushed and braided loosely away from her face.

She looked beautiful.

Fragile.

Like something that had cracked too many times but still somehow remained standing.

Their newborn son slept peacefully beside her in the bassinet, tiny fingers curled beneath his chin while soft breathing filled the quiet room.

Johnathan sat beside Malia carefully cutting fresh fruit into smaller pieces for her.

He hadn’t left her room all morning.

Not once.

Every few minutes he checked: Her oxygen. Her pain levels. Her water. The baby.

Like he was terrified to look away now.

“Open your mouth.”

Malia blinked slowly at him.

“Johnathan…”

“You gotta eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You just had surgery.”

Malia sighed softly but still opened her mouth slightly while he fed her another piece of fruit carefully.

Johnathan watched her closely.

“You still hurting?”

“A little.”

“You need more medicine?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

Malia looked down quietly.

“John…”

His face softened immediately.

“What?”

“…stop hovering.”

Johnathan actually looked offended.

“You scared the shit outta me for two days and now I’m hovering?”

Malia’s lips twitched faintly.

The smallest almost-smile.

Johnathan instantly relaxed seeing it.

“There she go.”

Before Malia could answer—

The hospital room door suddenly burst open.

Chaos entered immediately.

“Oh my GOD let me see him!” “Move!” “That baby got Westlend eyes already!” “He look rich!”

The families flooded inside all at once.

Westlends. Chensworths. Cousins. Aunts. Everybody.

The room instantly became loud.

Rafael immediately leaned over the bassinet.

“DAMN, that’s a handsome little dude.”

Selene laughed.

“He literally just got here.”

Damien looked emotional already.

“That boy finna own half the city one day.”

Evelyn Chensworth wiped tears from her eyes dramatically.

“My first grandson…”

Even old Mr. Harold Westlend looked satisfied standing near the back of the room.

“A male heir.”

The statement made several people visibly straighten up.

Because unfortunately?

In families like this…

That mattered.

A lot.

The atmosphere became celebratory almost instantly.

People passed the baby carefully. Took pictures. Talked loudly over each other.

And through all of it—

Malia sat quietly in bed.

Smiling softly when expected.

But emotionally…

She looked far away.

Johnathan noticed.

Of course he noticed now.

Every time someone congratulated him, his eyes drifted back toward Malia.

And every time—

She looked sadder.

Not angry.

Not bitter.

Just…done.

At one point Gia herself appeared briefly in the doorway holding her own newborn daughter dramatically while several nurses hovered nearby nervously.

“Everybody’s acting like boys are more important,” Gia complained instantly.

Montez appeared behind her looking dead inside.

“Girl, not today.”

Gia rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious!”

Nobody answered.

Because honestly?

The room tension already felt weird enough.

Malia looked away quietly.

Montez noticed instantly.

So did Johnathan.

Eventually after nearly an hour of overwhelming noise, nurses finally forced everybody out so Malia could rest.

The room slowly emptied.

Voices faded into the hallway.

Then finally—

Silence again.

Only Johnathan remained.

He closed the door gently behind the last family member before turning back toward Malia.

Their son slept quietly nearby.

Johnathan exhaled softly.

“You okay?”

Malia looked down at her hands.

Then after a long silence—

“…I want a divorce.”

The room froze.

Johnathan stared at her.

Completely stunned.

“What?”

Malia didn’t look at him.

“I think we should divorce.”

Johnathan’s entire face changed instantly.

Confusion. Shock. Fear.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Malia inhaled shakily.

“I’m serious.”

Johnathan stood up immediately.

“No.”

Malia finally looked at him.

Tears already filled her eyes again.

“Johnathan—”

“No.”

His voice cracked sharply.

“Why the hell would you even say that right now?”

Malia laughed weakly through tears.

“Because I should’ve said it a long time ago.”

Johnathan stared at her in disbelief.

“Malia, we literally just had our son.”

“And you missed his birth.”

Silence.

That hit immediately.

Johnathan swallowed hard.

“Malia—”

“You missed it.”

Her voice trembled harder now.

“Our baby waited four years to get here…”

Tears slid down her face quietly.

“And you still left me alone.”

Johnathan rubbed both hands over his face roughly.

“Baby, Gia was screaming and everybody—”

“That’s exactly the problem.”

The sentence came out sharper than usual.

Johnathan froze slightly.

Because Malia almost never interrupted people.

Never raised her voice.

But now?

Everything she’d buried emotionally for years was finally cracking open.

Malia wiped tears from her face shakily.

“It’s always Gia.”

Johnathan opened his mouth.

Then closed it again.

Because deep down?

He knew she was right.

Malia looked at him weakly.

“I spent four years understanding everything.”

Her breathing trembled.

“Every time you left me sitting alone because Gia needed attention.” “Every dinner.” “Every family event.” “Every appointment.” “Every moment.”

Johnathan looked destroyed already.

“Malia—”

“I kept telling myself you loved me enough for it to be okay.”

Her voice broke badly.

“But I don’t wanna feel second in my own marriage anymore.”

Johnathan’s eyes widened instantly.

“Second?”

“Yes.”

The word came out painfully soft.

“Your wife should never feel like she’s competing with her own sister for your attention.”

Johnathan looked genuinely horrified now.

“Malia, that is NOT what this is.”

“Then what is it?”

Silence.

Heavy silence.

Because he didn’t know how to answer.

Malia looked exhausted now.

Emotionally stripped bare.

“I think us getting married was a mistake.”

That one almost physically hurt him.

“No.”

Johnathan moved closer instantly.

“No the fuck it wasn’t.”

Malia shook her head weakly.

“You love me, Johnathan…” “…but not enough to choose me first.”

The tears in his eyes became visible immediately.

“Malia please…”

For the first time in years—

Johnathan looked terrified of losing her for real.

Meanwhile—

Next door—

Another marriage was collapsing too.

Gia sat dramatically in bed holding her newborn daughter while Montez stood near the window silently.

The tension in the room felt toxic.

Gia glared at him.

“You’ve been acting weird ever since Malia had that baby.”

Montez looked over slowly.

Then flatly said:

“I want a divorce.”

Gia’s face went completely blank.

“…what?”

Montez didn’t hesitate.

“I’m done.”

And suddenly—

The entire Westlend family was beginning to fall apart at the exact same time.

A few days later, the Westlend estate looked like it was preparing for war.

Again.

Luxury vehicles lined the massive driveway while security guards stood tense near every entrance. Servants moved nervously through the mansion carrying trays nobody was touching because the atmosphere inside had become too hostile for anybody to comfortably eat.

The grand family sitting room was filled wall to wall with tension.

Both families had gathered.

Westlends. Chensworths. Lawyers. Older relatives.

And everybody was arguing.

At the center of all the chaos—

Malia sat quietly on one of the cream-colored sofas holding her newborn son against her chest.

She looked heartbreakingly calm.

Her long wavy hair fell around her body like silk while the baby rested peacefully in her arms completely unbothered by the screaming surrounding him.

Unlike everybody else in the room…

He was quiet.

Still.

Observant.

Tiny dark eyes stared up at Malia peacefully while one tiny hand rested against her night robe.

Malia gently rubbed his back automatically.

No expression on her face.

Just exhaustion.

Across the room—

Gia sat dramatically on another sofa holding her newborn daughter while chaos exploded around her.

And unlike Malia’s son?

Gia’s baby screamed endlessly.

Loud. Sharp. Demanding.

Every few seconds Gia bounced her dramatically while complaining louder than the child.

“She won’t stop crying!” “Somebody do something!” “Why does she only scream when I hold her?!”

One exhausted nanny quietly muttered under her breath:

“…because babies feel energy.”

Montez almost laughed.

Instead he leaned heavily against the fireplace looking like he’d reached his absolute limit with life itself.

Meanwhile the older relatives argued nonstop.

“This divorce talk is ridiculous!” “They JUST had children!” “What will people say?!” “The press already knows something’s wrong!” “Think about the family reputation!”

Rafael groaned loudly from the armchair.

“Man fuck the family reputation.”

Selene nodded instantly.

“Seriously. Everybody in here more worried about appearances than the actual marriages.”

That shut several people up briefly.

Johnathan stood near Malia protectively while tension radiated off him heavily.

He hadn’t slept properly in days.

And now?

He looked angry.

Not explosive angry.

Desperate angry.

Because Malia had not taken back the divorce request.

Not once.

Every time he tried talking privately, she became quiet again.

Not cold.

Not cruel.

Just emotionally distant.

And that scared him worse than yelling ever could.

Across the room, Evelyn Chensworth dabbed her eyes dramatically.

“Malia sweetheart… marriage is hard sometimes.”

Malia looked down at her baby quietly.

No answer.

Evelyn continued nervously.

“You can’t just throw away four years together.”

Still silence.

Then suddenly—

Gia snapped loudly.

“Well maybe if everybody stopped babying Malia, she wouldn’t think divorce solves everything!”

The room instantly froze.

Montez looked at his wife slowly.

Dangerously slowly.

“Gianna…”

Gia rolled her eyes while bouncing her screaming daughter.

“What?! I’m just saying she acts like she’s the only woman who’s struggled in marriage!”

Malia’s fingers tightened slightly around her son.

Johnathan immediately noticed.

His face hardened instantly.

“Gia shut the fuck up.”

Gia looked offended immediately.

“Oh wow, so now everybody hates me because I had emotions too?”

“Your emotions ain’t the issue,” Montez snapped sharply. “Your selfish ass behavior is.”

Gia stood up angrily despite holding the baby.

“I am so sick of everybody blaming me for THEIR marriage problems!”

Montez laughed harshly.

“The fuck you mean THEIR problems?”

Gia glared at him.

“You act like I forced Johnathan to pay attention to me!”

“No,” Montez replied coldly. “You just made damn sure Malia never got peace.”

The room became dead silent.

Because everybody knew it was true.

Every event. Every dinner. Every crisis.

Gia always somehow became the center.

And Malia always quietly disappeared into the background.

Johnathan rubbed his forehead roughly.

“This shit ain’t all on Gia.”

Montez immediately looked toward him sharply.

“Oh now you defending her?”

“I’m taking accountability.”

“The fuck you are.”

Johnathan’s jaw tightened instantly.

Montez pushed off the fireplace now.

“You know what accountability would’ve been?”

His voice deepened dangerously.

“Being beside your wife when she was emotionally drowning instead of running every time Gia screamed.”

Johnathan stepped forward too now.

“You think I don’t know I fucked up?!”

“Apparently not enough!”

The room erupted again.

“Enough!” “Calm down!” “Not in front of the babies!”

But Montez wasn’t stopping now.

“That woman almost died and you STILL let somebody pull you away from her!”

Johnathan looked furious.

“I WAS TRYING TO HELP EVERYBODY!”

“And that’s the damn problem!”

Montez pointed directly toward Malia.

“Your wife needed YOU.”

The room fell silent again.

Montez’s voice lowered.

“But somehow she always came second.”

Malia slowly lowered her eyes.

Her son remained calm against her chest.

Quiet.

Just like her.

Montez looked back at Johnathan coldly.

“You should’ve took care of her like you was supposed to.”

Johnathan’s expression cracked slightly.

Because hearing it aloud hurt.

Especially because it was true.

Malia had always taken care of everybody else emotionally.

And nobody noticed how badly she needed somebody protecting her too.

Johnathan looked toward her finally.

Really looked.

She looked disconnected from everything happening around her.

Not dramatic.

Not hysterical.

Just emotionally gone somewhere else already.

That terrified him.

“Baby…”

Malia didn’t answer immediately.

Her fingers gently stroked the baby’s tiny back while he blinked sleepily up at her.

Then finally—

Without looking at him—

“I don’t hate you, John.”

The sentence sounded soft.

Painfully soft.

“But I’m tired of hurting quietly.”

Johnathan’s throat tightened instantly.

Across the room, Gia scoffed loudly again.

“Oh my God she talks like she’s dying in a romance movie.”

Montez snapped instantly.

“Gianna, shut your dumb ass up before I forget we got children in this room.”

Gia looked horrified.

“You’re threatening me now?!”

“No,” Montez said flatly. “That was me being polite.”

The baby in Gia’s arms immediately started screaming harder.

Meanwhile Malia’s son remained completely peaceful against her chest.

Damien looked between both babies slowly.

“…damn.”

Selene muttered under her breath:

“One baby got peace from his mama.” “The other inherited stress immediately.”

Gia gasped dramatically.

“I HEARD THAT!”

Nobody cared.

At the center of the room—

Malia quietly held her son while both families continued tearing themselves apart around her.

And for the first time…

She no longer looked emotionally attached to the outcome.

A few days later, both couples sat inside one of the most expensive pediatric clinics in the city.

And somehow…

The atmosphere was still chaotic as hell.

The private waiting room had been completely reserved for the Westlend family, complete with soft cream furniture, refreshments, gold-trimmed walls, and quiet instrumental music playing overhead.

But none of that mattered because—

Gia and Montez’s daughter was screaming.

Again.

Loudly.

The newborn’s cries echoed through the entire clinic while nurses hurried around trying to calm both mother and baby simultaneously.

Gia looked completely overwhelmed.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT SHE WANTS!”

The baby screamed louder.

Gia nearly started crying herself.

“I FED HER!” “I CHANGED HER!” “WHY DOES SHE KEEP YELLING?!”

Montez sat nearby looking deeply exhausted while rubbing both hands over his face.

“She’s a damn baby, Gianna.”

“WELL YOUR SON NEPHEW DOESN’T CRY THIS MUCH!”

At the other side of the room—

Malia quietly held Junior against her chest.

And honestly?

The difference between the babies was almost unsettling.

Junior barely fussed.

Barely moved.

He simply rested calmly against Malia’s body with sleepy dark eyes quietly observing the room around him.

Too calm.

Even the nurses had noticed earlier.

“He’s very observant,” one nurse had commented softly.

Now Johnathan sat beside Malia watching their son carefully.

His expression looked worried.

Because despite everything…

Something felt off.

Junior slept deeply. Rarely startled. Rarely reacted to loud noises.

Even now, Gia’s daughter screamed loud enough to wake the dead—

And Junior barely blinked.

Johnathan frowned slightly.

“You think he’s too quiet?”

Malia looked down at the baby softly.

“He’s been like this since birth.”

Johnathan rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.

“He don’t react to sound much.”

Malia’s chest tightened slightly.

Because she’d noticed too.

But after everything with her own health, surgery, and emotional stress…

She kept convincing herself maybe she was overthinking.

Eventually the pediatric specialist entered the room.

Dr. Leonard Hayes.

A calm older doctor with glasses and a reassuring voice.

He smiled warmly.

“Well let’s meet the famous Westlend babies.”

Gia immediately stood up with her crying daughter.

“She has not stopped screaming for two hours.”

The doctor looked completely unbothered.

“That’s actually pretty normal.”

Gia looked personally offended.

“Well I don’t like it.”

Montez muttered under his breath:

“None of us do.”

The doctor began examining Gia’s daughter first.

The newborn screamed through the entire process.

Temperature checks. Heartbeat. Reflexes.

Everything.

Gia panicked dramatically every five seconds.

“Is she okay?!” “Why she crying like that?!” “She hate doctors already!”

The doctor finally smiled.

“She’s perfectly healthy.”

Gia visibly relaxed instantly.

“Thank God.”

Montez looked emotionally detached.

“Wonderful.”

Then the doctor turned toward Malia and Johnathan.

“And this must be Junior.”

Johnathan’s face softened slightly hearing the name aloud.

Junior Westlend.

Named after him.

Their long-awaited son.

Malia carefully handed the baby over to the doctor.

Junior remained calm in his arms.

Almost too calm.

The doctor examined him quietly.

Heartbeat. Eyes. Reflexes. Muscle tone.

Everything looked normal at first.

Then the doctor grabbed a small auditory response device and tested sound reactions gently near the baby’s ears.

A soft clicking sound played near Junior’s right ear.

Junior blinked faintly.

Then the doctor tested the left side.

Nothing.

The doctor paused.

Johnathan immediately noticed.

“What?”

The doctor repeated the test carefully.

Still almost no reaction.

Malia’s fingers tightened together nervously.

The room suddenly felt colder.

The doctor remained calm.

“Let’s try one more thing.”

He tested several different sound levels quietly while watching Junior’s reactions carefully.

Johnathan’s face slowly paled.

“Doctor?”

Dr. Hayes finally lowered the device gently.

Then looked toward both parents carefully.

“Junior appears to have hearing loss affecting the left side.”

Silence.

Malia blinked slowly.

“What?”

The doctor softened his voice.

“It’s a hearing disorder involving reduced auditory response.”

Johnathan stared at him.

“…how bad?”

The doctor quickly reassured them.

“First, let me say this is NOT life threatening.”

Both parents visibly exhaled immediately.

Especially Malia.

Because after her complicated pregnancy…

That was her biggest fear.

The doctor continued gently.

“Right now, we believe he still has partial hearing function, but he’ll likely need hearing aids on both sides to support balanced development and auditory processing as he grows.”

Malia looked down at Junior instantly.

Her eyes watered immediately.

Not from rejection.

Not from disappointment.

Just fear.

Fear of the unknown.

Johnathan leaned forward quickly.

“So he’ll still be able to hear us?”

“Yes,” the doctor reassured immediately. “And with early intervention, hearing aids, and monitoring, many children develop beautifully.”

Malia looked emotional now.

“He’s gonna be okay?”

The doctor smiled softly.

“I genuinely believe so.”

Johnathan finally exhaled deeply.

His shoulders visibly relaxed for the first time all appointment.

“Fuck…”

He rubbed his face hard.

“I thought y’all were about to tell us something terrible.”

Malia quietly reached over and touched Junior’s tiny fingers.

The baby simply blinked sleepily up at her.

Calm as ever.

The doctor continued explaining carefully.

“We caught it early, which is very important. We’ll arrange fittings for infant hearing aids and continue monitoring him closely.”

Gia suddenly spoke up from nearby while bouncing her now-quiet daughter.

“So he’s deaf?”

The room instantly became tense.

Malia’s face fell slightly.

The doctor answered professionally.

“He has hearing impairment affecting one side more significantly than the other.”

Gia blinked.

“Oh.”

Montez immediately looked toward her sharply.

“Don’t.”

Gia frowned.

“What?”

Montez’s voice lowered dangerously.

“Don’t start no weird shit.”

Gia rolled her eyes slightly.

“I wasn’t even saying anything.”

But the damage already lingered in the room.

Because Malia immediately pulled Junior closer protectively.

Instinctively.

Like she already felt the need to shield him from people.

Johnathan noticed instantly.

And something about it hurt him deeply.

Because suddenly he realized—

Their son might grow up feeling overlooked too.

Misunderstood. Different. Quiet.

Just like Malia.

Johnathan moved closer beside her.

Then gently kissed the side of Junior’s tiny head.

“He’s perfect.”

Malia looked over at him quietly.

Johnathan repeated it more firmly this time.

“I mean it.”

His eyes stayed on their son.

“We’ll figure everything else out.”

For the first time in days…

Malia’s expression softened slightly.

Not fully.

But enough for Johnathan to notice.

And honestly?

That tiny shift meant everything to him now.

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