Chapter Text
He had been grumpy for days. If one were to ask his wife, or anyone else for that matter, the reason for such was entirely unreasonable. But Benedict Bridgerton was certain it was a very real and serious matter.
His daughter hated him.
Well, his unborn daughter still nesting in his wife’s womb, hated him.
Benedict was sure she was a she. Sophie wasn’t so certain.
Regardless, he had come to the conclusion she hated him and he had to do something about it.
Couple weeks prior Sophie announced, very loudly and unexpected while they were cuddling in bed, she felt their baby move. Benedict forgot the last time he felt such a thrill by a simple phrase, so he rushed to feel the movement as fast as he could.
Only for nothing to happen. And he waited. And waited.
Nothing.
Sophie told him not to worry, that she read in a book mothers could feel the first kicks first than anyone else.
That didn’t help for long. Such things kept happening. Over and over again every time Sophie felt a kick she rushed him to feel it - only for their daughter to stop any movement the moment he arrived.
Sophie thought it was cute and funny. Benedict thought he was doing something wrong.
But he had no idea what he could possible already done to offend their unborn child.
And frankly a small part of him was jealous of Sophie. Not in a bad way… but he was now certain their daughter already had her favourite parent and it was certainly not him.
He had to do something about it.
That’s how Sophie found herself starting to get unusual pampered by Benedict. Her husband was an extremely devoted and caring man - but this was getting out of hand.
He would massage her belly at least four times a day. He would talk to their child while laying his head on her belly at least three times a day. He would bring her sweets and her favourite snacks at least two times a day. And of course every night he would read a bedtime story - to her belly.
It was sweet at first. But as her belly grew and her patience decreased, she needed to put a stop to it before she lost her mind.
Never in a lifetime Sophie would think she would get annoyed with so much love. But her husband was no ordinary person.
For the last months of her pregnancy Sophie tried everything in her power to put some sense into Benedict. Their daughter, or son as she would insist, had no idea what was truly going on in the outside world.
Sophie went as far as to say they wouldn’t know who’s who once they were born - though she did hoped she was wrong, surely her child would recognise her voice.
She also begged for Mrs Crabtree help. Surely she could put some sense into Benedict’s mind… But that too fell short when Mr Crabtree announced proudly that his daughter would always kick when he spoke. Fair to say neither Sophie nor Mrs Crabtree were very happy with the honest he provided.
Benedict’s family - or their family as he would insist - were no help either. Sophie wrote to all the women begging for help: Daphne, Kate, Penelope and of course Violet.
Their letters trying in their own ways to put sense into Benedict’s mind were ignored. It seemed that the only way to take this ludicrous idea out of Benedict’s mind was indeed for him to feel their child move.
Of course, their child proved to be a Bridgerton through and through by simply refusing to kick for him. Stubborn as their father, Sophie declared one day.
By the last month of Sophie’s pregnancy the whole thing became even more ridiculous than she could ever imagine. Benedict had redone the nursery at least three times. He had read every single book on tips of how to raise a child. He was determined to be the best father in the world.
Sophie would think this was adorable, if she wasn’t so damn uncomfortable all the time. And Benedict’s insistence in keeping touching and hugging her belly at every hour was not helping.
She just wanted to get this over with. And hopefully, Benedict’s insistence that their child hated him could also, finally, end.
It had been over eight hours since Sophie woken him up in the middle of the night and told him the words he was waiting and dreading the most the last nine months: it’s time.
He now found himself holding Sophie’s hand and whispering encouraging words to her as the midwife screamed push more times than he was be able to count.
His mother had arrived a week prior. She insisted to be present for the birth and Benedict was extremely thankful she did. Violet became a warming presence in the last week - even if she tried every day to convince him that his fear was untrue.
Benedict spent all nine months never once being able to feel his daughter kick. Surely that MUST mean something. No one would convince him otherwise. So, he was determined to prove himself as a good father, in every other way.
Maybe he overdid with the affection. Or with the amount of times he redid the nursery. Or perhaps with the amount of toys he had already bought for his daughter.
In truth, every since the day Sophie told him that she was with child he found himself holding his breath. Holding his breath in fear of failing. He spent so many years of his life not being able to commit to something. What if he couldn’t commit to a life? To being a father?
Yes. He was committed to Sophie and to their life together, there was no doubt about it. Benedict would rather die than imagine a life without her by his side.
But this was a different. This was completely new for him. And he was afraid.
So no, it did not help that he never once felt his daughter kick.
Benedict was brought back to the present by the loud sound of a baby crying.
He looked at the wrinkling crying baby and at Sophie. Sophie. His beautiful, incredible, mesmerised wife who just brought their child into the world. As they looked and smiled at each other, they knew their lives changed forever and for the better.
Many kisses, hugs and words of affirmation later the midwife asked Sophie if she wanted to hold their baby girl. Oh yes, it was indeed a girl. Benedict never doubted that.
The tears were unstoppable as he watched his wife and his daughter together. And then, when he softly touched her little hand, something magical happened.
For the first time since she was born, baby Violet - as him and Sophie agreed month prior - opened her eyes and looked straight at his. Squeezing his finger at the same time, with the strength that only a newborn baby Baek-Bridgerton could.
His daughter did not hate him. No. She was waiting for the right time to show him her love.
Benedict knew then that all his fears were unfounded and perhaps the only person who could ever prove him wrong was at that moment holding his finger like he was her entire world.
Because, perhaps, he was.