London, December 12th 1869

The late hours of the evening had fallen, and Evie shifted uncomfortably in bed, trying to find a position that eased the tightness in her lower back. She placed a hand on her swollen belly, sighing softly. "I can't wait for you to be here," she whispered. Just as Henry came into the room to check on her, she felt a sudden, warm rush.

"Henry… I think my water just broke."

Henry's eyes widened with a mix of concern and excitement. "I'll have the Rooks fetch Florence," he said, rushing to the window. Since Starrick's defeat, the Rooks had been a constant presence on the streets. Spotting a few lingering nearby, Henry called out, "Rooks! Fetch Florence Nightingale—and make haste!"

As they waited, Henry held Evie's hand, offering calming words. Yet his mind was distracted by the letter he'd received that afternoon—a message from his mother, Pyara. The coded note had brought news of a splintered group of Templars targeting the Indian Brotherhood. Though he hadn't shared it with Evie yet, it loomed heavily over him now, making him anxious about her and their child's safety in India.

Florence Nightingale arrived swiftly, her calm, efficient presence immediately putting both Henry and Evie at ease. "Alright, Evie," she said, setting her medical bag down. "This little one seems eager to make an appearance. Let's get you as comfortable as we can."

The hours stretched as Evie laboured, her strength ebbing away with each contraction. Though she gripped Henry's hand with determination, panic began to creep into her voice. "Henry… what if something goes wrong?" she whispered, fear shining in her eyes. The thought of her mother's fate haunted her, and she trembled as exhaustion took over.

He leaned close, his voice steady. "You're not her, Evie. You're the strongest person I know," he said, brushing a few damp strands of hair from her face. But even as he reassured her, the thought of the Templar threat gnawed at him. He'd give anything to shield her from this knowledge, at least for now.

Evie's breathing became laboured, her grip loosening as waves of pain took over. "I can't… I can't do this," she panted, tears filling her eyes.

Henry's heart tightened, but he refused to show fear. "Yes, you can. You've faced far worse than this. We're almost there."

Suddenly, Florence's expression darkened, her hands moving quickly over Evie's body. "The baby's positioning… it's not ideal. Evie, we need you to push hard now."

But Evie's energy waned, her mind clouded with fear. "Henry… I don't want to die…"

Henry's heart pounded. Desperation clawed at him, gripping her hand. "I'm here, Evie. I won't leave you. You just need to hold on."

Minutes felt like hours as Florence continued to work, her tone calm but demanding. "Evie, you have to focus. You need to push."

Evie took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of strength left in her body. She pushed harder, Florence guiding her through each step. Henry stayed by her side, their words of encouragement weaving through her pain and exhaustion.

After what felt like an eternity, Florence smiled. "One more, Evie. You're almost there."

With a final push, the room was filled with the sound of a newborn's cries. A girl—healthy and strong—was placed in Evie's arms. Tears of relief and joy streamed down her face as she looked at her daughter, and then to Henry, who kissed her forehead.

"She's perfect," he whispered. It was the best belated birthday gift he could wish, seeing as how his daughter was born only 5 days after his 26th birthday.

"You did it," Henry whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Evie cradled their newborn daughter in her arms, her eyes meeting Henry's with a tired but radiant smile. "Our little Lily," she whispered, the name rolling off her tongue like a secret they'd both cherished. Henry gently placed a hand on his wife's shoulder and nodded. "Just as we imagined," he said softly, looking down at their daughter, her tiny fingers curled around his thumb. The name was theirs, chosen together long before this moment.

Evie, still trembling but filled with love, looked from Henry to Lily. "I love you… both of you."

The next day, after Florence packed her medical bag and left, Jacob arrived with his wife, Saoirse. When Henry led them into the bedroom, they were greeted by Evie, still resting in bed and cradling Lily in her arms.

Jacob wiped his eyes, trying to mask his emotion as he leaned closer to get a better look at Lily. "Well, would you look at that. I'm an uncle! And she's got your nose, Greenie."

Henry chuckled. "Let's hope she inherits her mother's skills, though."

With a rare tenderness, Jacob placed a hand on his sister's shoulder. "She's beautiful, Evie. You've done well." Evie smiled and offered, "Do you want to hold her?"

Nodding, Jacob gently took Lily in his arms, his rough demeanour softening as he gazed at her. Saoirse, standing beside him, stroked Lily's cheek. "She's indeed beautiful," she murmured in her Irish accent before stepping over to give Evie a warm hug.

When Jacob had first introduced Saoirse, Evie had been surprised, but she and Saoirse had quickly bonded. Now, Evie viewed her as the sister she'd never had.

As Evie leaned back against the pillows, exhaustion mingled with immense joy. Her gaze moved from Henry to Jacob and Saoirse, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. This was the beginning of a new adventure, one grounded in family, love, and the promise of a future as bright as Lily's first cries.

But amidst the warmth, Henry's thoughts drifted back to his mother's message. The threat of the Templar resurgence loomed, and now, with his newborn daughter in his arms, his determination to keep his family safe grew stronger than ever.