Julien dropped to his knees beside the pregnant woman, instincts kicking in faster than thought.
“Call an ambulance!” he barked at the station clerk, who was already fumbling with his phone, hands trembling.
The woman—pale, sweating, and trembling—gripped Julien’s sleeve like a lifeline.
“It’s coming… I can’t wait… please…”
Julien had delivered freight, not babies. But in that moment, with snow swirling outside and nothing but gas station coffee and old newspapers around, he became exactly what she needed—steady, calm, and present.
“Okay,” he said gently. “I’ve got you. We’re going to do this together.”
Minutes passed in a blur of pain and encouragement. The ambulance was still twenty minutes away. Julien used his coat to keep her warm, the station towels to clean what he could, and sheer willpower to hold himself together.
At last, a cry filled the tiny shop. A baby—red-faced, alive, and healthy.
Tears rolled down the woman’s cheeks. Julien, shaking, laughed in disbelief.
“You did it,” he whispered, wrapping the baby in his jacket.
Then the woman looked up at him, breathless.
“Thank you… I didn’t know what I would’ve done…”
“It’s alright,” he said, “You’re safe now. What’s your name?”
She hesitated, eyes drifting to the baby.
“…Élodie,” she whispered.
The name hit him like thunder.
His world stopped spinning.
He stared at her again. Not the same hair. Not the same face. Younger. Softer. Not his Élodie.
“I’m sorry… did you say Élodie?” he asked, voice cracking.
She nodded. “It’s my middle name. I don’t like using my first.”
Julien swallowed. “What’s… your last name?”
She told him.
It took him a moment to place it—then it clicked.
She was his Élodie’s half-sister. Much younger. They’d never met. But he remembered now—Élodie once mentioned a sibling her mother abandoned before remarrying. Julien had dismissed it. It sounded like drama from another life.
“Wait,” he said slowly. “You’re… related to someone I used to know.”
The new Élodie raised an eyebrow. “You knew my sister, didn’t you?”
Julien nodded silently.
There was a long pause.
“She was selfish,” the young woman said bluntly. “Left home at sixteen. Never looked back. Hurt everyone who loved her.”
Julien exhaled.
“She hurt me too,” he said.
They both fell quiet, staring at the small bundle now peacefully sleeping in his arms.
Then, the young woman smiled weakly. “Maybe it’s a good thing we met like this.”
“Maybe it is,” Julien replied.
When the ambulance arrived, he rode with her. At the hospital, they asked if he was the father.
“No,” he said. “But I’m not leaving.”
Later, after doctors gave the all-clear, she looked up at him and said:
“I don’t have anyone. No family. Nowhere to go. But if you want to… be part of her life… I wouldn’t mind.”
Julien nodded, eyes glassy.
He had lost a love. But on a frozen road, in a forgotten gas station, he’d found purpose.
And in that baby’s first cry, he’d heard the beginning of his new life.