He noticed her because of the daffodil petals stuck to the tips of her brown leather shoes. He had been shuffling up and down the waiting room of the hospital when the unusual sight made him stop right in front of the seated woman. He would have continued on with his nervous pacing if it had seen one or two petals, but the shoes were covered with ripped up pieces of flowers. It was as if they had been trampled underfoot. He couldn't help but gape at the strange sight.

The shoes were not particularly stylish. The leather was sturdy and quite worn out. Although he had no way of knowing, those shoes were in fact, the perfect complement to the woman who wore them. She was a practical woman. As sensible and earthy as they got.

She pointedly cleared her throat when she noticed he was staring. He jerked his head up and saw that she had a bouquet of daffodils on her lap. "Sorry," he said, embarrassed. "I was just wondering where you got those flowers. I want to get some for my wife."

The woman wore a slight frown when she answered. "My son gave them to me." she said.

"Oh."

She then turned back to her newspaper and he took it as a sign that the conversation was over. He gave a small sigh, relieved that she was as disinterested in continuing with the conversation as he was. Awkward exchanges with a stranger was the last thing on his mind. All he wanted to do was rip his hair out.

It was half past two in the morning and his wife would give birth to their firstborn any moment.

He couldn't help but think about how he and his wife got to this point. For years, they had wanted a child. There were several occasions, three to be exact, when they were given the hope that it would happen. But those moments were not meant to be.

It was difficult, to say the least. He thought about the friends they lost because they just couldn't bear to listen to another story of how first steps were taken or how a tooth fell off when they had no stories to tell in return. Most of all, he remembered how he had to cradle his wife in his arms as her tears moistened the crook of his neck.

But there would be none of that today, he thought. His hands already felt the weight of the newborn. All his life, he had longed for a family of his own and now, there was one more member joining him and his wife. He would protect them with his life, he vowed, and that made him inescapably happy.

"That's creepy," a voice suddenly said.

He turned, a wide smile still plastered on his face. "Huh?"

"You're smiling at nothing," the woman said, her eyes already back to skimming the article she was reading.

"Am I?" he said still grinning. "I was just thinking about our baby. My wife is about to give birth."

"Labor is intense," she said frankly. "Why aren't you with her?"

A slow blush tinted his neck. "I'm terrified of blood," he explained sheepishly. "It's my wife who's the soldier."

"I see," she said simply.

Her eyes suddenly darted past his face and her features relaxed. He couldn't help but turn around curiously. A blonde man and a boy of about four or five years of age were walking towards them.

The woman put down the flowers and the paper she was reading on the empty seat beside her. In a flash, she had the boy engulfed in her arms. "How are you feeling?" she asked, smoothing back his dark hair.

He noticed that the boy's arm was in a cast.

"I'm fine, Ma," the boy answered calmly. "It didn't hurt."

The blonde man clapped the boy on the shoulder. "That's our son," he said gleefully. "You should have seen him. He didn't even flinch when the doctor fixed him up."

She looked up at the man, no doubt her husband, with gleam in her eye. "He got that from me."

"Of course he did," the man answered amiably. It was then that the man turned, seemingly noticing that they were not alone for the first time. "Wife in labor?" he asked looking at him directly.

He had to laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

The blonde man smirked. "Yeah, it is. I had the same look when our son was born. It was a tough wait."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Not as tough as labor."

She then turned to look at her son. Despite the boy's passive expression, his eyelids were starting to blink more slowly. She gave him a small kiss on the forehead. "Okay, I think that's enough excitement for tonight. We should go home so this little guy can rest."

The woman picked up the daffodils from where she set them down and thrust it in his hands. "Here. You should give these to your wife. I never got to ask, are you having a boy or a girl?"

"We're having a baby girl," he said. With dark hair and dark eyes, beautiful just like her mother. He felt his chest puff up with pride.

The woman looked at her son, already half-asleep in his father's arms. "Then these flowers should be for your little girl," she said. "Just say they're from my son. His name is Levi."