All Chapters of Your brother, my husband : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Naomi's POV The hum of machines had become a lullaby to my eating, I was tired of it but I didn't have a choice.I woke up to it—soft beeps, distant murmurs from the hallway, the faint shuffle of nurses in rubber-soled shoes. My room smelled like antiseptic and flowers—someone had sent lilies. Probably Beatrice. Or maybe Kendra. I didn’t ask.The sun filtered in through a narrow slit in the blinds, painting soft stripes across the white hospital blanket. I could barely move. My body ached in places I hadn’t known could ache. Every breath pulled at something beneath my ribs.But the worst pain wasn’t physical.It was the emptiness,My arms were still empty, my baby was meant to be in my arms, sucking my breast and bonding with me.I knew Aurora was alive, she was Breathing, she was Fighting alone, I was meant to be with her, And still, I hadn’t held her. Just saw her from afar.---Raymond came in with a cup of warm water and a smile that barely reached his tired eyes. He was exhauste

Naomi's POV The discharge papers sat on the tray beside my bed, crisp and clinical, I stared at them for a long time.It wasn’t the signatures or instructions that made my hands tremble—it was the finality. The quiet truth beneath the paperwork: I was going home. But Aurora wasn’t, Not yet.“She’s stable,” the nurse reminded me softly, as if I didn’t already know. “Just a few more days to monitor her breathing and feeding patterns. Standard precaution.”Standard.Nothing about this felt standard, it feels like separation.Raymond stood beside me, his arm protectively wrapped around my shoulders, trying to absorb the ache I couldn’t voice. Miranda was with Beatrice for the morning, so it was just the two of us. Quiet. Still. Standing on the line between two worlds—inside this hospital room and out in the life we’d fought to reclaim.“Do you want one more moment with her?” the nurse asked.I didn’t answer. I just nodded.Of course I do!They wheeled me down the now-familiar hall of the

Naomi's POV If you had asked me a year ago whether Rachel Montego would be sitting at my family dinner table—with a smile that reached her eyes and a man beside her who made her laugh like she was still learning how—I’d have said never in a million lifetimes.I remembered when she stole the man I thought I loved, the man I was going to get married to next day. Racheal has always wanted what I had and her mum instead of her to correct kept teaching her the wrong, she wasn't to be blamed if only she was raised well. She's such a sweet little grown baby.And yet, In my kitchen, here we were, she's all looking happy because she has found her man. I look like a very fulfilled mother.With roasted garlic chicken in the oven, a pot of jasmine rice simmering on the stove, and Miranda decorating the dinner table with rainbow napkins and flower petals stolen from the backyard.Raymond whisked past me with an apron on and a wooden spoon in his hand. “You sure you don’t want to sit down, madam c

Naomi's POV Sunday came with that kind of calm that only follows chaos. The storm had passed—birth, recovery, tears, sleep-deprived nights. Now, the house held a quiet hum of life, not urgency.I stood in the kitchen, watching the afternoon light drip through the window like honey across the counter. The aroma of lemon tea and warm cornbread drifted through the rooms. Miranda was on the rug, coloring a unicorn family with glitter gel pens. Raymond was setting up the outdoor table, sleeves rolled, a look of calm concentration on his face.We were getting ready for something small, but meaningful.A gathering.A soft reveal.A surprise.It's nice to have this once in awhile.---When everyone arrived, the backyard transformed into the kind of space that felt like family without effort.Rachel and Miles came hand in hand—she wore a soft pink blouse I’d never seen her in before, and he carried a tray of croissants he claimed were “only slightly burned.”Beatrice arrived next with a wove

Raymond's POV The house was quiet in the way that only came after long days—after baths, stories, feedings, and tiny socks scattered like breadcrumbs on the floor.Aurora was asleep in her crib, curled like a comma against the soft pink sheets. Naomi was dozing nearby, her hand still resting on the edge of the crib, as if even in sleep, she couldn’t stop protecting our daughter, typical Naomi.I stood in the doorway, taking it in, I was really happy seeing my family together and calm.There were no alarms, No hospital machines. Just the low hum of life settling into place.And for once, I let myself feel it.The weight of being a father.Not the title that came with it, Not biology, but the presence of always being there.I was still standing there when I heard the front door open.Voices carried from downstairs—Beatrice’s soft tone, and his voice in return.My father.We hadn’t seen much of him since the wedding. He’d flown in at the last minute to walk Naomi down the aisle and then