Brigitte was expecting twins and didn’t see anything unusual about this pregnancy. She already had three children and remembered well what to expect. Except that fatigue came on faster, and her belly had noticeably grown and no longer fit into her favorite jeans. Everything was routine, without anxiety. Therefore, when the doctor suggested a scheduled C-section, Brigitte refused — she wanted to go through labor naturally, from the first contraction to the last push.

But when her water broke and her husband, Chris, drove her to the maternity ward, everything went off script. The doctors spoke of risks and complications, but through the pain, she barely heard their words. Her thoughts were confused, her breathing erratic. She understood only one thing — something terrifying was happening. This agony was unlike anything she had experienced before. The nurses suddenly stopped asking her to push, and the doctors moved over to her husband, quickly explaining something.

Unknown equipment was rolled into the room. Brigitte felt her body become heavy, and the world swam before her eyes. Someone’s voice cut through the noise: “We’re losing her, sir. You might want to say your goodbyes.”

Chris couldn’t believe what he heard. How could he say goodbye to the person he loved more than life? The woman who had given him a family? As the doctors prepared for an emergency C-section, he stood unable to find the words. In despair, he took out his phone and snapped a photo — he wanted to preserve the memory, just in case this was their last moment together. He knew Brigitte wouldn’t have approved: disheveled hair, pale skin, traces of blood. But to him, she was still the same — the most beautiful woman in the world.

Everything that followed was like a dream. Doctors rushed, prepared instruments, someone shouted commands. Chris barely noticed the babies being born — he couldn’t take his eyes off the photograph. In the picture, a ray of sunlight fell directly on Brigitte’s hair, creating a soft glow around her head, like a halo. Maybe it was just an optical effect, but at that moment, he felt a calm, as if someone had whispered, “She will return.”

Unexpectedly, a doctor appeared nearby. Her voice trembled: “Your wife’s condition is stabilizing. She is still critical, but her vitals are improving.” These words sounded like a beacon of hope. Chris looked at the photo again — that very halo now seemed to him like a sign, a confirmation that a miracle was possible.

When Brigitte regained consciousness, she heard the quiet beeping of machines and felt a dull ache throughout her body. Images surfaced in fragments: flashes of light, voices, a feeling that she was being called somewhere far away. But she remembered the babies’ cries — and it was as if she latched onto them, pulling herself back. Later, doctors explained that she had suffered an amniotic fluid embolism — a rare complication that almost always ends in tragedy. Only the swift reaction of the medics saved her and the babies.

Two days later, Brigitte held the newborns for the first time. One baby inherited his father’s darker skin, the other, fair skin like hers. “It’s a genuine miracle,” the doctors marveled. Even in mixed-race couples, twins with such a contrast are a rarity.

The recovery was long. Her body seemed to be failing her, but Chris was by her side — the man who hadn’t left for a moment. The fear of losing his wife had made him even more attentive and gentle. One day, Brigitte saw that very photo. It showed her, surrounded by light. “Did you think it was a sign that I was gone?” she asked. Chris smiled: “No. I knew it was an angel protecting you. I felt you would come back.”