All Chapters of Your brother, my husband : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Naomi's POV I woke up very early that morning, before everyone else.No tossing, no discomfort, Just calmness, the night was just too smooth.This was uncommon these days—not being disturbed by the baby’s movements or the remnants of a thought. But this morning, everything felt unusually gentle.Raymond was still in bed, his chest rising and falling steadily. I quietly got out of bed, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder before making my way into the hallway.As I walked down the corridor, I noticed Miranda’s door slightly ajar. She was awake, sitting on the edge of her bed with her socks gathered around her ankles and a serious expression on her face.“Good morning, superstar,” I whispered, kneeling in front of her.She blinked at me. “Why are you up first?” shouldn't you be sleeping a lot now?“I wanted to surprise you, Get you ready for school.”She tilted her head. “No baby stuff first?” Did you wake up because you were hungry? What would you like to eat?”I shook my head. “Nothin

Naomi’s POVAfter our heated reconciliation, I awoke to a strange silence. The city continued to buzz beyond the windows, but within the room, all that remained was the hum of the ceiling fan and Raymond's arm thrown around my waist. His breathing was quiet and even. The light that crept through the drapes turned the walls golden. I moved carefully, easing out from beneath his touch. In the restroom, I leaned against the counter and looked at my reflection. My lips were a little swollen from last night's kiss. My vision was clearer than it had been in days. But beneath the satisfaction, something else was stirring, it was not regrets, Not uncertainty, Just a quiet query in my mind.What happens next—after forgiveness?I took a long shower, letting the hot water massage away the tension. As I rinsed off, I thought about the keynote. About Barcelona. About that sticky note: “Waiting for the right moment to ask you.”He did want me there.And yet, I couldn’t ignore the fact that I ha

Raymond’s POV"I get the urgency, Michael, but I can't sacrifice quality just to meet a political deadline."I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temple as my phone buzzed with another calendar reminder.On my desk, two files were open—one for the São Paulo wellness project and the other for our Nairobi mental health pilot. Both required my signature before noon. Both had conditions attached.But my focus wasn’t on either.It was on the tablet next to my keyboard, streaming the interview I wasn’t invited to attend.Naomi Montego-Darlington – Live with Evelyn Ross.She appeared… radiant. Confident. Polished. Her voice was steady, articulate—each response delivered with poise, each smile perfectly timed.Yet, I knew the woman behind that screen. I recognized the tremor in her fingers that she always concealed behind her notes. I noticed how she bit the inside of her cheek when uncertain about a line.The world was falling for her.And I was already lost.—"…what does legacy mean to yo

Raymond's POV “Ray…”Her voice cracked. Just one syllable, and everything inside me shifted into emergency mode. I already suspected something was wrong with the way she has been feeling these days.Naomi stood in the hallway, braced against the wall, one hand gripping the molding, the other wrapped protectively around her belly. Her skin had gone pale, almost translucent, and sweat dotted her forehead.She looked like she'd collapse soon, so I rushed to her and helped her sit first.Words can't explain how scared I was.I didn’t waste any more time “I’m getting the car.”I started the car and went inside to get her running like a mad man.The drive to the hospital was quiet except for Miranda’s lullaby CD still playing from the morning school run which was the least of my worries right now.Naomi’s hand clutched the side of her seat while the other gripped mine between contractions.We didn’t talk about the keynote.We didn’t talk about Barcelona.We didn’t talk at all. All my atten

Naomi's POV They say you remember the moment your child is born in snapshots.Not the whole picture.Not a video.Just pieces.The flash of an overhead light.The tremble of a gloved hand.The sterile chill of a room that doesn’t feel ready for something so… sacred.That’s how it started.---They wheeled me into the operating room just before sunrise. I remember the pale yellow walls and the buzz of soft classical music playing somewhere near the ceiling.My body was numb from the waist down. But everything else—my heart, my breath, my soul—was raw and alert.Raymond was beside me, dressed in hospital scrubs, his face mostly hidden behind a mask. But his eyes… his eyes never left mine.“You okay?” he whispered.I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I just nodded, blinking back tears that were already spilling.They laid me flat on the bed, draped a blue sheet over my chest, and began talking in clipped, calm tones—nurses, doctors, anesthesiologist. I felt nothing below my ribs, but the press