Chapter 253: First Breath
*Bael’s POV*
The sound that tears from Runze’s throat is unlike anything Bael has ever heard—a raw, agonized scream that vibrates straight through Bael’s chest and rattles his core.
Bael clamps his hands tighter around Runze’s trembling shoulders, bracing his weight as Runze curls inward, straining every muscle in his exhausted body. Bael’s jaw aches from how hard he grinds his teeth. His heart hammers against his ribs in a frantic, helpless rhythm. He would give away every asset, every company, every breath in his lungs just to take this excruciating pain away from Runze.
"That’s it! Continuous pressure, Mr. Runze!" Dr. Xi’s voice cuts sharply over the steady, frantic beep of the heart monitor. "Just a little more!"
Runze’s knuckles turn stark white where he clings to Bael’s hospital gown. A final, breathless sob escapes his lips, and then, all at once, the crushing tension in his body snaps. His hands slacken, sliding uselessly off Bael’s chest. His head falls heavy against Bael’s shoulder, his skin pale, cold, and drenched in slick sweat.
Panic violently spikes through Bael’s veins. "Runze? Runze!"
"He’s alright, Mr. Bael—he briefly lost consciousness," Dr. Xi says immediately, his voice remarkably steady despite the chaotic room. "His vitals are stable."
Before Bael can demand more, a thin, sharp wail pierces the air.
It is small, high-pitched, and furious.
Bael freezes. The air locks in his throat. The chaos of the delivery suite—the bustling nurses, the metallic clatter of medical tools, the rhythmic hum of the monitors—instantly fades into dead silence.
At the foot of the bed, Dr. Xi holds a tiny, slick, squirming form.
"Time of birth, 4:18 PM," Dr. Xi announces, a small smile breaking through his professional mask. "A healthy baby girl."
Bael stares, completely paralyzed. A girl. A heavy knot tightens in his throat, burning behind his eyes until his vision blurs with unshed tears. He has stood before hostile boardrooms, outmaneuvered lethal rivals, and commanded entire industries without ever wavering, but looking at this fragile, red-skinned child, his knees feel dangerously weak.
"Mr. Bael," Dr. Xi says, holding out a pair of sterile scissors. "Would you like to cut the cord?"
Bael looks down at his hands. They are trembling, shaking so visibly he barely recognizes them. He swallows past the lump in his throat, steps forward, and takes the metal instrument. The cold steel feels unnatural in his hand, but with a single, unsteady snip, the physical tether is severed.
The nurses move swiftly, drying the baby with warm towels, checking her breathing and heart rate, and wrapping her in a soft flannel blanket. Once she is bundled, a nurse steps toward Bael and carefully places the warm package into his arms.
The weight is almost nothing, yet it anchors Bael to the floor with staggering force. He looks down into the tiny, scrunched-up face. Soft tufts of dark hair cling to the baby’s scalp, her tiny fingers clutching blindly at the edge of the blanket. As her small chest rises and falls with rapid, steady breaths, a single, silent tear slips down Bael’s cheek, trailing over his tense jaw.
"Look at what you made, Runze..." Bael whispers, his voice entirely shattered.
Around them, the medical team works with quiet efficiency—administering oxytocin through Runze’s IV to assist pelvic contraction and control postpartum bleeding, monitoring his blood pressure, and ensuring his vitals remain completely steady. After confirming his bleeding is controlled, they carefully transfer him onto a mobile recovery bed. Bael refuses to step back even for a second, keeping one arm wrapped securely around his newborn daughter while his other hand remains firmly anchored to Runze’s limp fingers as they wheel him down the quiet hallway into a private suite.
The private room is dim and quiet, illuminated only by the soft glow of the evening sky passing through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Bael sits on the edge of the mattress, settling the baby gently against his broad chest. He lowers his head, breathing in the sweet, warm scent of her skin and soft flannel. For months, he had tried to imagine this moment, but nothing in his controlled, calculated world could have prepared him for the sheer weight of holding her. Small, perfect, and breathing softly against his heart.
For twenty minutes, Bael doesn’t look away from her for a single second. He traces the tiny curve of her nose with the tip of his finger, letting her tiny, fragile hand wrap around his thumb. Every time she makes a soft, snuffling sound or twitches in her sleep, a low, quiet murmur slips from his lips—whispering soft assurances into the room, completely enchanted by the tiny life in his arms.
He reaches out with his free hand, gently brushing damp strands of dark hair away from Runze’s pale forehead. He leans down, pressing his lips against Runze’s temple, lingering there in a silent, reverent promise.
*You did it. We’re safe now.*
A low, weak groan breaks through his quiet murmur as the figure on the bed stirs.
Runze’s long eyelashes flutter, his brows pinching together as consciousness slowly pulls him back from the fog of total exhaustion. His pale, trembling fingers reach up, weakly pushing aside the clear oxygen mask resting over his face so he can speak.
"Bael...?" Runze’s voice is barely a hoarse rasp, his throat raw from screaming.
"I’m right here," Bael answers instantly, gently helping him adjust the mask past his chin. He leans closer, his thumb stroking Runze’s cheek with infinite tenderness. "Don’t try to sit up too fast. You’re safe. We’re in the recovery room."
Runze’s eyes blink open fully, blurry and unfocused at first, searching the room until they land on Bael. Then, his gaze drops lower, fixing on the small bundle cradled against Bael’s chest.
"Is the baby..." Runze gasps, his chest heaving as tears immediately pool in the corners of his pale eyes. "Are they... alright?"
"She’s perfect," Bael whispers, his own voice thick with emotion, a small, breathless smile breaking over his face. "We have a daughter, Runze. A healthy baby girl."
Fresh tears spill over Runze’s lashes at the words. Moving with deliberate care, Bael shifts closer, sliding his arm beneath Runze’s shoulders to help support him as Runze turns weakly on his side. Bael gently lowers the baby into the crook of Runze’s arm, guiding Runze’s trembling fingers to rest against the warm blanket.
The moment the baby feels the proximity, her tiny mouth twitches, a soft, snuffling sound escaping her lips as she nuzzles into Runze’s side.
Runze lets out a wet, breathless sob, burying his nose into the baby’s soft blanket, weeping quietly with sheer relief and unconditional love. "She’s so small, Bael... she’s so beautiful..."
Bael wraps his large arms around both of them, pulling them tight against his body. He rests his chin on top of Runze’s head, closing his eyes as the final traces of terror leave his soul, replaced by an overwhelming, unbreakable warmth.
"Look at her," Bael whispers against Runze’s hair, his grip tightening just enough to anchor them both. "She’s beautiful, just like you. I’ll burn through every enemy we have before I let anything harm her. She’s going to have everything, Runze. Everything."