Chapter Text
At exactly two in the morning, Qin woke up to a sharp pain that suddenly struck his lower back, then spread toward his abdomen.
The pain came in waves—strong, pressing, and enough to steal his breath away.
Without realizing it, Qin let out a strained groan. His hand moved reflexively, gripping Duang’s arm tightly as the other was still asleep beside him.
“Arghh… Duang—it hurts…!” his voice came out broken, caught between uneven breaths.
Duang reacted almost instantly. His eyes snapped open, his awareness returning within seconds. Though he looked briefly disoriented, he quickly sat up and reached for Qin without hesitation.
“Ter, is it time already?!” he asked quickly, his voice unable to fully hide the panic. “Can you still stand?”
Qin didn’t answer right away. He tried to regulate his breathing first, enduring the waves of pain that came one after another. Cold sweat began to form on his forehead, and his fingers clenched the bedsheet tightly.
After a few moments, when the pain eased slightly, Qin nodded faintly.
“I… I can try.”
Carefully, Duang slipped an arm around Qin’s body, supporting him so he wouldn’t lose balance.
Qin finally managed to sit on the edge of the bed, his breathing still unstable. Duang stayed right beside him, not loosening his hold even for a second.
“Remember what the doctor said, okay? Control your breathing—slow inhale, then exhale steadily,” Duang said, trying to keep his voice calm even though worry was clearly visible in his eyes. “I’ll get the car ready as fast as I can.”
Qin nodded weakly, though his face remained tense as the pain returned in waves. Seeing that, Duang didn’t leave immediately. He made sure Qin was in a safe position—sitting slightly hunched forward, one hand bracing against the bed.
“I won’t be long,” he added softly.
After Qin nodded again, Duang finally moved. He rushed out of the room, his steps nearly breaking into a run through the quiet hallway of the house.
In the living room, he grabbed the hospital bag they had prepared days ago.
Without wasting any time, Duang took the car keys and stepped outside. The cold early morning air greeted him, though he barely felt it at all.
He opened the car door and started the engine immediately. Once everything was ready, Duang rushed back inside, his breathing slightly uneven, but his pace never slowing.
However, when he reached the bedroom, his steps halted for a moment.
Qin’s pheromones—usually soft and calming—now filled the room with a much stronger intensity. It was no longer just the warmth of an omega, but a raw, instinctive signal of vulnerability and a need for protection.
Duang tensed immediately. That protective instinct surged so strongly it nearly clouded his thoughts.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay focused.
“Ter…” he called more softly this time, approaching carefully.
Qin turned his head slightly, his eyes clouded with pain. But when he saw Duang, a faint sense of calm appeared.
“I’m here…” Duang murmured, his voice much lower now—almost a whisper meant only for Qin.
The steady, warm scent of his alpha pheromones began to spread, naturally calming the atmosphere. Qin, who had been tense, unconsciously relaxed a little—his breathing becoming more even, though the pain had not disappeared.
“We’re leaving now,” Duang continued, his tone firm but gentle. “I’ll help you stand—slowly.”
Qin nodded, though his face twisted as another wave of pain hit.
Very carefully, Duang helped Qin to his feet, supporting most of his weight. Each step was slow and difficult, but Duang never once let go.
When they finally made it outside, Duang opened the car door and helped Qin inside, making sure he was as comfortable as possible.
Once Qin was seated, Duang closed the door, ran to the driver’s side, and got in.
The engine was already running.
His hands paused on the steering wheel for a second.
Then he glanced sideways.
Qin was there—enduring, fighting.
Duang took a deep breath, then pressed the gas pedal.
The car sped through the silent early morning, carrying them toward a new chapter where their child was waiting.
Upon arriving at the hospital, neither Duang nor Qin was given much time to prepare themselves mentally.
As soon as Qin lay on the emergency bed, a nurse immediately performed a quick examination. Her professional expression turned serious within seconds.
“The dilation is already quite advanced,” the nurse said firmly. “The patient must be taken to the delivery room immediately.”
The words made Duang freeze for a moment.
He didn’t know whether to feel relieved—that Qin wouldn’t have to endure the pain much longer—or even more anxious because everything was happening so fast, without time to truly prepare.
“Duang…” Qin’s weak voice pulled him back to reality.
In one step, Duang was already at his side, gripping his hand tightly.
“I’m here,” he said softly, but firmly.
Qin nodded faintly, though his face tensed again as another contraction hit. His pheromones intensified once more, making Duang almost growl.
For an alpha like Duang, it was unmistakable.
And that only made his chest tighten further.
“Easy… you’ve been so strong to get this far,” he whispered, trying to soothe him, though his own fingers trembled slightly.
The nurses began pushing Qin toward the delivery room. Duang walked beside him, never letting go of his hand.
When they reached the entrance, they stopped.
“We’ll take the patient inside. Please wait for a moment while we prepare,” one of the nurses said professionally.
Qin was taken in first.
The door closed.
And in that single second, Duang felt something inside him being pulled away—his alpha instinct rejecting the separation from his omega at a moment like this.
But he didn’t argue.
He just stood there, his hand still warm from Qin’s grip.
“Please come this way,” another nurse called, leading him to the preparation room.
Duang changed into sterile clothing quickly, though his thoughts kept returning to Qin. Every second felt too long.
He even realized—Qin’s pheromone scent that had faintly lingered on him was now slowly fading, replaced by the cold, sterile smell of antiseptic.
And it made his chest feel even tighter.
“Are you ready?” the nurse asked.
Duang gave a short nod.
“You may go in. Stay by the patient’s side and follow the medical team’s instructions.”
Without waiting any longer, Duang entered the delivery room.
The moment the door opened, his eyes immediately found Qin.
The omega lay on the medical bed, breathing heavily, his legs already spread, his body tensing with each contraction. Several medical staff surrounded him, monitoring everything closely.
“Ter.”
That one call was enough.
Qin turned his head, and in an instant, his expression softened—almost breaking into tears.
“Duang…” his voice was weak, exhausted from the relentless pain.
Without hesitation, Duang moved to his side, gripping his hand again.
“I’m here,” he said softly, but firmly.
As his alpha pheromones reached Qin again, Qin let out a small breath of relief.
His breathing, which had been erratic, slowly found its rhythm again. His fingers, which had been clenching aimlessly, now held tightly onto Duang’s hand.
“Good, keep it like that,” one of the medical staff said. “The contractions are getting stronger. Don’t push until I tell you to!”
Qin nodded slightly, and seconds later, another wave hit.
Stronger.
His body tensed, his grip on Duang tightening.
“Duang—!”
“I’m here,” he answered quickly, tightening his hold. “You can do this, Ter. I’m so proud of you.”
Qin tried to follow the breathing rhythm the doctor had taught him. Inhale… hold… exhale… But this time, it was much harder.
“It feels like… I need to push…” he said, brokenly.
“Not yet,” the medical staff replied firmly but calmly. “Hold it. Focus on your breathing.”
Duang leaned closer, bringing his face near Qin’s. “Look at me,” he whispered softly. “Follow me… inhale… exhale…”
Qin forced himself to focus on Duang, using his voice and presence as his only anchor in the overwhelming pain.
Second after second stretched endlessly.
Until finally—
“Fully dilated,” the medical staff said. “Alright, now it’s time. When the next contraction comes, you can push.”
The words made Duang straighten unconsciously.
And Qin… simply nodded weakly, preparing himself.
The next wave came quickly. Qin groaned.
“Now! Push!”
Qin pushed with all his strength. His entire body tensed, muscles working hard under the natural urge he could no longer resist.
Duang’s hand was nearly crushed, but he didn’t let go even slightly.
“Good! Keep going!” the staff encouraged firmly.
Qin groaned, his breath ragged between the effort that drained all his energy.
“Again! Just a little more!”
When the contraction eased, Qin collapsed back, exhausted. His breathing was heavy, his body drenched in sweat.
“I… can’t…” he murmured weakly.
Duang spoke again, staying calm despite his legs beginning to feel weak. “You’re strong. You’ve come this far, Ter. Just a little more… just a little more.”
He tightened his grip, his thumb gently brushing Qin’s hand.
His alpha pheromones intensified again—warm, soothing, instinctively reassuring.
Qin took another breath.
The next contraction came—stronger than before.
“Now! Push again!”
Qin gathered what little strength he had left and pushed again. This time longer, stronger.
“Good! The baby’s head is starting to show!” the medical staff said, their tone rising slightly.
The baby’s head…
“Keep going! Don’t stop!”
Qin nearly screamed as the pain peaked, but he kept pushing, following every instruction.
“Just a little more! Almost there!”
One more push.
One final effort.
And then—
A loud cry filled the room.
Everything seemed to stop in that single second.
Qin’s body went limp immediately, his breathing uneven, but a clear relief showed on his face.
Duang froze.
That cry… so strong.
“Congratulations,” one of the medical staff said with a small smile. “It’s a boy. He’s born safely.”
Duang looked toward the source of the sound, his eyes widening slightly—as if still trying to process what had just happened.
Meanwhile, Qin could only close his eyes briefly, tears slipping out without him realizing.
“Duang…” he called weakly.
Duang took a deep breath, trying to steady his own emotions before focusing back on Qin.
He placed a gentle kiss on his omega’s forehead—brief, but full of meaning.
Another on his temple.
And one more, barely there, on his damp hair.
“Thank you…” he whispered softly, his voice almost trembling. “You were so strong.”
“Ter, I love you… thank you, thank you so much…”
“Duang…” Qin’s voice was very faint.
Duang immediately leaned closer. “Yes? I’m here.”
Qin opened his eyes slightly, but they looked heavy. “I… feel so sleepy…”
The sentence was simple.
But the reaction from the medical staff changed instantly.
“Don’t sleep!” one of the nurses said firmly, much louder than before.
Duang flinched, turning immediately.
“Keep your eyes open,” one of the medical staff said while moving quickly toward them. Their gaze was serious, their tone firm but controlled. “Sir, please keep talking to your mate. Make sure he stays responsive.”
Duang nodded quickly, though his heart began pounding uncontrollably.
“What’s happening…?” he asked, his voice tightening.
But the answer didn’t come in reassuring words.
“There’s bleeding!” another staff member said, low but clear.
The words made Duang’s world stop for a moment.
Bleeding.
He turned back to Qin—and only then did he truly notice.
The sheets beneath Qin were becoming stained with more blood than before.
The hand that had been holding Qin now felt colder.
“Ter… look at me,” Duang said quickly, forcing his voice to stay steady even as his breathing grew uneven. “Don’t close your eyes, okay? Stay with me.”
Qin tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt unbearably heavy.
“Duang… I’m… tired…” he murmured softly.
Duang’s alpha pheromones surged again—this time more intense, almost pressing, filled with anxiety and a primal urge to keep his omega conscious.
“Ter… keep your eyes open! You can’t sleep, you absolutely can’t!”
Around them, the medical staff moved faster.
“Prepare oxytocin—quick!”
“Blood pressure dropping!”
“The patient is losing consciousness—”
The overlapping voices made the atmosphere turn sharply tense.
Duang swallowed hard, his hands trembling now.
But he didn’t let go of Qin.
“Ter, listen to me,” he said again, softer but firm. “You still have me… and him.”
He glanced briefly toward their baby, who had been taken aside by another staff member.
“You haven’t even held him yet,” he continued. “You said you wanted to watch him grow, right?”
Qin frowned faintly.
The words seemed to push through the haze in his mind.
“Our… baby…” he whispered, barely audible.
“Yes,” Duang replied quickly. “So stay here. Don’t go anywhere.”
Qin tried to open his eyes again, though only slightly. His breathing grew weaker, his body feeling lighter—too light.
“Duang…” he called.
“I’m here,” Duang answered immediately, without hesitation. He lowered his head, his forehead touching Qin’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
For the first time, his voice truly trembled.
“So you’re not allowed to go either.”
But Qin’s eyelids drooped further.
“TER—!”
Duang’s voice broke, almost losing control.
Several medical staff moved quickly. One of them stepped beside Duang, their expression firm but still professional.
“Sir, we need space to treat the patient,” they said quickly. “Please wait outside for now.”
Duang shook his head instinctively. “No—I have to stay—”
“It’s an emergency,” the staff cut in, more firmly this time. “We will handle this immediately. You will interfere if you stay.”
The words hit him like a slap.
His hand still gripped Qin’s—tight, as if letting go would mean losing everything.
But around him, equipment was being moved, instructions were being shouted, and the room had turned into a space he no longer belonged in.
With great difficulty, Duang let go of Qin’s hand.
The medical staff immediately took over.
“Please, sir.”
Duang stepped back.
Then another step.
And before the door fully closed, he caught one last glimpse—Qin surrounded by hands, by machines, by voices.
The delivery room door shut tightly.
The sounds inside were muffled.
The hospital corridor felt cold—too cold.
He stood there for a moment, unmoving, as if his body had forgotten how to function.
Slowly, Duang stepped back, then sat down on the nearest chair without even realizing when he had done so.
His breathing was uneven.
His mind… empty.
Until finally, his hands covered his face.
“…don’t do this…” he murmured softly, his voice barely audible. “You can’t leave me like this…”
Duang cried.