Chapter 57
The rhythmic tapping of Alex Barrett’s polished shoes echoed down the sterile hospital hallway as he followed the nurse toward the neonatal intensive care unit. The world around him blurred, his senses overwhelmed by the weight of her words: premature, critical, 48 hours. Each term was like a blow, cutting through his carefully maintained facade of control.
“They’re stable for now,” the nurse said as they stopped in front of the observation window. “The team is doing everything they can, but the next 48 hours will be critical.”
Alex stepped closer to the glass, his breath catching at the sight before him. Two tiny incubators sat side by side, their transparent walls revealing the impossibly small forms of his children. Wires snaked around their bodies, connecting them to machines that beeped and hummed with a cold precision. Their chests rose and fell in shallow, rhythmic motions, a fragile testament to their will to survive.
“They’re fighters,” the nurse added gently. “They’re in the best hands.”
Alex pressed his hand to the glass, a lump rising in his throat as he stared at the delicate forms of his son and daughter. The raw vulnerability of the scene tore at him. They were so tiny, so defenseless, and he hadn’t been there when they had entered the world. Guilt crashed over him, relentless and unforgiving.
This is my fault.
The thought was sharp and unyielding. He had let himself get consumed by the chaos surrounding Barrett Industries, by the shadows cast by Luka and Elliana’s betrayal. In his misguided effort to protect Emma, he had distanced himself, believing that space was what she needed. But he had been wrong—so terribly wrong.
“They’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice breaking. For a moment, he couldn’t move, torn between the need to stay and watch over them and the urgency to see Emma. She had borne the weight of this pregnancy alone, had fought through the pain and fear while he had been too blind to see the toll it was taking on her.
The nurse touched his arm lightly, drawing him back to the present.
“The mother is resting in room 315. She’s stable, but the delivery was hard on her. She’ll need time to recover.”
“Thank you,” Alex said, his voice rough and hollow. He turned and walked down the hallway, his pace quickening as his emotions surged. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his failure pressing harder on his shoulders.
When he reached the door to her room, he paused, his hand hovering over the handle. Through the small window, he saw her lying in the hospital bed, her face pale and drawn. Thomas sat beside her, his expression steady and watchful as he spoke quietly to her.
Alex’s chest tightened at the sight, a mix of jealousy and regret twisting inside him. He pushed the door open, stepping inside.
Emma looked up at the sound, her eyes narrowing as they met his. Her voice was flat, her exhaustion evident. “What are you doing here?”
“Emma,” Alex said, his voice cracking as he stepped closer. “I came as soon as I heard.”
Her eyes narrowed, her exhaustion giving way to anger.
“You’re too late,” Emma said, her voice cold and brittle.
“Emma, I had no idea—”
“That I was giving birth?” she interrupted, her voice rising despite her fatigue. “Of course you didn’t. You weren’t here, Alex. You were too busy with… whatever it is you think is more important than your family.”
Alex stopped, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t know. No one told me—”
“You weren’t here,” Emma interrupted, her voice rising. “I went through this alone, Alex. Alone, while you were… God knows where.”
“I would’ve been here if I’d known,” Alex said, his tone pleading. “Emma, I’m so sorry. Tell me about the twins. Are they okay?”
“They’re in the NICU,” Thomas said from his seat beside Emma, his tone measured but firm. “The doctors are doing everything they can.”
Alex flinched at words, guilt clawing at him. “Emma, I’m sorry. I should have been here. I should have—”
“Stop,” she said sharply, cutting him off. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Thomas shifted in his seat, his gaze flicking between them. “Maybe I should give you two some privacy.”
“No,” Emma said quickly, her eyes still fixed on Alex. “You stay.”
Her words cut deep, but he forced himself to meet her gaze. “Emma, I know I’ve failed you. I know I’ve made mistakes—”
“Mistakes?” she interrupted, her voice trembling with barely contained anger. “You abandoned me, Alex. You left me to deal with all of this on my own.”
Her words hit like a sledgehammer, and Alex fought to keep his composure.
“I thought I was protecting you,” he said quietly, his tone laced with regret. “I thought staying away would keep you and the twins safe from everything I was dealing with.”
Emma’s bitter laugh was like a dagger to his chest.
“Safe? Do you have any idea how scared I was? How alone I felt, lying in that delivery room, wondering if I’d even get to hold my babies?”
“I was wrong,” Alex admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. “I see that now. But I’m here, Emma. I’m here now, and I want to make this right.”
She shook her head, her tear-filled eyes narrowing. “It’s too late, Alex. You don’t get to show up now and pretend that everything’s fine. That you didn’t abandon me when I needed you the most.”
The words hung in the air, a crushing verdict he couldn’t argue against.
From the chair beside her, Thomas rose slowly, his presence a steadying force in the room. He placed a reassuring hand on Emma’s shoulder, his touch firm yet gentle. “Alex,” Thomas said, his voice calm but edged with authority, “maybe you should give her some space. She’s been through enough tonight.”
Alex’s gaze flicked to Thomas’s hand on Emma’s shoulder, the small, protective gesture like a knife twisting in his gut. He saw how her shoulders relaxed slightly under Thomas’s touch, the trust she extended to him—a trust that Alex had shattered long ago.
“Space,” Alex repeated, his voice hollow. He took a step back, his expression pained as he looked from Emma to Thomas. “Fine. I’ll give you space. But I’m not leaving. Not this time.”
Emma didn’t reply. Her gaze dropped to the blanket, her fingers gripping the fabric tightly. The silence that followed was deafening.
Alex turned and left the room, his heart heavy as he walked back down the hall. He stopped outside the NICU, staring through the glass at his children.
The sight of them filled him with a deep, aching love, but also a crushing sense of failure. He had missed their first moments, had failed to be there for the woman who had brought them into the world.
