Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1597

Chapter 1597: Chapter 1597

Lucy cried out again, louder this time, her voice a song of earth and sky and life. Her body opened like a flower. With a final push and a rush of warmth and light, the baby slipped into Jude’s waiting hands.

She was glowing.

Wet and tiny, but radiant, her skin shimmering like moonlight filtered through amber. Her fingers curled around Jude’s thumb, impossibly small and impossibly strong. Her eyes opened - and they were golden.

Lucy collapsed back into Emma’s arms, tears streaming down her cheeks as Jude lifted the baby to her chest.

"Oh gods," Lucy gasped, clutching the child. "She’s perfect. She’s ours."

The others gathered close, some crying, some laughing, all silent in the face of the impossible.

Then Grace fell to her knees.

"I - " she panted, hands gripping her thighs. "I think - me too - "

Her water broke in a sudden splash of golden liquid, soaking the grass beneath her.

Rose turned instantly. "Then help her. Don’t be afraid."

No one moved away. Instead, they leaned in. Supported. Whispered. The field, the trees, the whole island became a cradle. The energy from Lucy’s birth hadn’t faded - it was growing, feeding the others. Jude handed Lucy’s baby to Zoey, who wrapped her gently in soft petals, and then moved to Grace’s side.

He kissed her belly. "I’m here."

She gripped his hair. "Don’t leave me."

"Never."

She screamed. She laughed. She sobbed. And the island echoed it all back like a song.

The second child was born under stars that had begun to gather above them like an audience. A boy. Wide-eyed, fierce already, his cry sharp and commanding.

Then Stella gasped.

Emma clutched her middle.

Natalie dropped to her knees.

It happened like a wave. One by one, the contractions began. Their children were ready. Not days from now. Not weeks. Now.

"Help them!" Jude called, already moving to Stella, then Susan, then back to Lucy, who cradled her daughter while watching the others labor with shining eyes.

The forest glowed brighter with each new cry. Babies born glowing, eyes already open, fingers curling into fists, skin like sunlight.

Scarlet collapsed with her back arched, her breath ragged. Jude knelt between her thighs and caught her child too - a girl, smaller than the others, but burning with intensity.

"She looked right at me," Scarlet whispered, trembling. "Like she knew me."

"She does," Jude said. "They all do."

Nine babies. Nine births.

And then silence.

Sophie sat cross-legged on the moss, her hands folded protectively over her stomach. She hadn’t gone into labor. Not yet.

She looked at Jude.

He came to her slowly.

She took his hand and pressed it over her belly. "They’re waiting. Mine... aren’t ready."

He nodded. "Then we wait."

The mothers lay in a wide circle now, cradling their glowing newborns, humming softly, kissing damp curls and blinking through tears. The field had transformed - flowers blooming all around them, petals opening in time with the babies’ breaths. The pool behind them sparkled, fed by a stream of silvery water that now flowed from the standing stones. The air smelled of nectar and magic.

"They’re perfect," Zoey whispered, rocking her son against her bare chest. "I didn’t know I could feel this much."

"Me either," Stella said, her daughter curled under her chin.

Lucy pulled Jude down beside her, their baby nestled between them. "You did this," she said softly. "You gave us everything."

"No," Jude said, eyes wet. "You gave me everything."

The stars pulsed above them.

The island pulsed beneath.

And for the first time since they’d set foot on the beach so long ago, they weren’t just twelve wives and one man lost in a dream.

They were a family.

Whole.

Infinite.

Alive.

The night cradled them in golden quiet, as if the sky itself had drawn a warm blanket over the field to shelter this moment. The air was thick with the scent of new life - milk and moss, wildflower and skin. The newborns breathed in time with the island, their soft sighs rising like sacred music. Jude lay among them, tangled in the limbs of the women he loved, surrounded by the children they’d created together. His arms curled around Lucy and her daughter, the baby nestled between them with her tiny fingers clutching his thumb even in sleep.

They didn’t speak for a long time.

There was no need.

The warmth of the births still lingered in the grass, in the stones, in the still water of the silver pool. The trees had leaned in, the branches above them swaying with what felt like awe. The entire island had gone still - not in silence, but in reverence.

Jude turned his head slowly, his eyes passing over every woman. Susan snored softly, the corner of her mouth lifted in a peaceful smile as Natalie curled protectively around her. Grace nursed her son beneath the stars, humming something low and soothing, while Stella, half-asleep beside her, gently stroked her baby’s cheek. Zoey lay with her daughter skin-to-skin, one hand cupped protectively over the tiny back, her breath deep and even. Emma sat upright, awake, quiet, her hand resting on Sophie’s knee, grounding her.

And Rose, of course, sat at the edge of it all, her arms wrapped around her knees, watching the scene with a look so tender it softened every sharp edge she had ever worn. She met Jude’s gaze and smiled. He didn’t need words to understand it.

This was just the beginning.

Sophie stirred beside him, her fingers brushing his wrist. "They’re so small," she whispered, her voice tight with emotion. "But they feel so... vast. Like I can already see what they’ll become."

He nodded, gently touching the curve of her stomach. "Yours are waiting."

She looked down, breathing slowly. "They’re listening."

"To what?"

"To all of this." Her eyes shone as they met his. "To us. To love. They’re not ready to come through yet - but they’re watching."

The fireflies returned, hundreds of them blinking in soft harmony as they floated through the field, weaving between bodies and blossoms.