The world inside the delivery room had narrowed to pain, panic, and hope. The smell of antiseptic hung thick in the air, mingling with the sharp sting of adrenaline. Nova's cries echoed through the room, raw and desperate, each one slicing through Hope's chest like a blade. She refused to let go of Nova's hand—not for a second. Her other hand brushed Nova's sweat-damp hair from her forehead, whispering soft reassurances even as her own tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks.
"Just breathe, love," Hope murmured, her voice trembling but steady. "You're doing so good. Just keep breathing with me."
Nova's grip tightened until Hope thought her fingers might break. "It hurts, Hope... I can't—" she gasped, a sob escaping between contractions.
"Yes, you can," Hope said fiercely, her voice rising over the chaos. "You've fought through worse. You're the strongest person I know. I need you to stay with me, okay? Stay with me."
Lydia stood on Nova's other side, holding her other hand, tears streaking her face. "You've got this, Nova," she whispered. "You're almost there."
The doctor's voice cut through the noise, calm but firm. "We're losing time. She's fully dilated—she needs to push now."
Hope squeezed Nova's hand. "You hear that? You're ready. You can do this. I'm right here."
Nova nodded weakly, her chest heaving. With a deep breath, she pushed, a scream tearing from her throat. The sound echoed through the sterile room, making even the nurses flinch. Hope held on, whispering encouragement, counting breaths, and kissing the back of Nova's hand between pushes.
Minutes bled into hours. The clock ticked mercilessly. Every contraction seemed harder than the last, and Nova's strength began to falter. She could feel how small the babies still were, how early they were coming, and the fear of their tiny, premature bodies struggling to survive gnawed at her. "Hope," she cried softly between gasps, "what if—what if something happens?"
Hope's heart splintered. "Nothing's going to happen," she said quickly, though her voice wavered. "You're going to be fine, and our babies are going to be fine. They might be tiny and early, but they're fighters—just like their moms. You just keep looking at me. Breathe. I've got you."
The doctor's tone sharpened. "We have one coming—keep pushing!"
Hope leaned close, brushing her lips against Nova's forehead. "You hear that? One of them's ready. Just one more push, sweetheart."
Nova screamed again, the sound breaking into sobs, but she pushed through the pain. A moment later, the first cry filled the room—a sharp, fragile wail that shattered the tension like glass.
Hope gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as tears streamed freely down her face. "That's our baby," she whispered, awe and disbelief mingling in her voice. "That's our little girl."
The nurse quickly lifted the tiny infant, checking her vitals before calling out, "Baby girl—she's breathing, but weak."
Hope's relief was short-lived as Nova groaned, another contraction tearing through her. "The second one's coming!" the doctor barked. "She's not done yet."
Hope snapped back into focus, gripping Nova's hand again. "You're not alone, okay? I'm right here. You're so strong, Nova. One more—just one more."
Nova whimpered but nodded, her strength almost gone. Lydia leaned closer, whispering tearful encouragements. "You've got this, Nova. Both of them need you."
With one final, desperate cry, Nova bore down. Hope whispered prayers she hadn't said since she was a child. Then, at last, another thin, trembling cry filled the air.
The second baby's voice was softer, fainter—but it was there.
The doctor exhaled. "Second baby—also breathing, but we need to move them to the NICU immediately."
Hope sobbed in relief and kissed Nova's forehead. "You did it," she whispered. "You did it, baby. They're here."
Nova's body slumped back against the bed, her face pale and exhausted. Hope brushed her hair back gently, tears still streaming. "You're amazing," she murmured. "You gave me everything."
Nova's eyes fluttered weakly, her voice trembling. "Are they okay?" she asked, panic breaking through her exhaustion. "My babies—are they okay?"
Hope's heart clenched as she nodded quickly, clutching her hand. "They're tiny, but they're breathing. They're going to be okay."
Nova tried to smile, but her lip quivered. Tears filled her eyes. "It's too early... they weren't ready." Her breath hitched, pain flashing across her face. "It's their fault," she rasped, her voice shaking. "Allison... and Scott... they did this. The stress... I couldn't—"
Her words broke off in a sob, her body tensing from the pain. Hope's panic rose as Nova's eyes rolled back slightly. "Nova? Nova, stay with me!" But her grip loosened, her head falling to the side just as the monitors began to scream.
The beeping of the monitors changed—rapid, sharp, and wrong. The doctor's head snapped toward the machines. "Her blood pressure's dropping! We're losing her!"
Panic exploded through Hope's chest. "What? No, no—Nova!"
The room erupted into chaos. Nurses rushed forward, the doctor shouting orders. Hope felt herself being pulled back as more staff poured into the room. "She's hemorrhaging—we need to get her to surgery, now!"
"Nova!" Hope cried, trying to push closer, but a nurse stopped her. "Please, Miss Mikaelson—you have to step back."
"Hope!" Nova's voice was barely a whisper. Her hand reached blindly toward her, trembling. Hope broke free of the nurse restraining her and caught Nova's hand, clutching it to her chest. "I'm right here! I'm not leaving you!"
A nurse stopped her. "Please, Miss Mikaelson—you have to step back."
"I can't—she needs me!" Hope shouted back, her voice cracking as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Don't let her slip away!"
The doctor looked up briefly, his expression grim but determined. "We won't. We're stabilizing her now, but she's lost too much blood. We need to get her into surgery immediately
Nova's eyes fluttered open weakly, her lips forming a faint smile. "Take care... of them..." she breathed, her voice fading.
"Don't you dare say goodbye," Hope whispered fiercely, tears blurring her vision. "You promised me forever. You're going to wake up, you hear me? You're going to see them grow up."
The doctor's tone turned urgent. "We need to move now!"
Hope was forced to let go as they rushed Nova toward the surgical suite. She stumbled back, her legs nearly giving out as Lydia caught her.
"They're taking care of her," Lydia whispered, though her own voice shook. "She's going to be okay. She has to be."
Hope pressed her hands to her mouth, sobbing. "I can't lose her, Lydia. Not after everything. Not her."
The door swung closed behind the surgical team, leaving Hope standing there—blood on her hands, tears on her face, and two newborn cries echoing faintly from the corner of the room.
Lydia ran back, grabbing Hope's hand. "She's strong," Lydia whispered fiercely, tears glistening in her eyes. "She's too stubborn to leave you."
Hope clung to that thought, whispering Nova's name over and over as the doors swung shut behind the gurney.
Hope turned toward the sound. The nurses had finished cleaning the twins, their tiny chests rising and falling with fragile effort. They were impossibly small, wrapped in soft blankets, their little hands twitching. Hope stepped forward, her trembling fingers brushing the edge of one incubator.
"They're perfect," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Just like her."
A nurse placed a gentle hand on her arm. "They'll be okay," she said softly. "We're transferring them to the NICU now. You can see them once they're settled."
Hope nodded numbly, her gaze still fixed on the twins. "Take care of them," she said quietly. "They're everything."
As the nurses wheeled the incubators away, Hope sank into the nearest chair, her whole body trembling. Lydia knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Together, they sat in silence—the sounds of distant footsteps and soft beeping filling the air.
Hope's bloodied hand hovered over her heart. "She'll come back to me," she whispered. "She has to."
She turned her eyes back to where the twins had been, her heart aching with love and fear. The nurses had said they were stable but fragile—born far too soon, small enough to fit in her hands. Hope whispered softly into the quiet room, speaking as if her words could reach the NICU down the hall.
"My brave little ones," she murmured, voice trembling. "You came too early, but you're strong. You have to fight, okay? Your mama's fighting too. You both need to hold on."
She wiped her tears with a shaky hand, leaning back in the chair, whispering one more promise to them. "I'll protect you both until she can. That's a promise, my tiny miracles."
Lydia hesitated beside her before speaking softly, "Do you want me to go give the others an update? They're all still waiting outside."
Hope took a deep breath, her gaze still fixed on the empty space where the twins had been. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice raw. "Tell them the babies are here... that they're small, but alive. And tell them—tell them Nova's still fighting. Just... don't let them see me like this yet."
Lydia nodded gently, her eyes soft with concern. "Okay... but you know one of your parents is probably going to come in anyway." She offered a faint, understanding smile.
Hope gave a shaky sigh, her lips quirking into a weak half-smile. "Yeah... I know. I just need a minute first."
Lydia squeezed her shoulder, then stood and quietly left the room. The soft echo of her footsteps faded down the hall as she made her way toward the waiting room to give the others the update, leaving Hope alone with her thoughts and the heavy silence that followed.