Here’s your text, adapted into a Westernized, localized English novel style, with Western names, foods, customs, and natural, conversational tone:
When he walked in, she instinctively stepped back out of the room.
Rebecca White was gasping for breath, drenched in sweat, her body trembling slightly.
She still wasn’t fully awake-she couldn’t tell if this was real or just some lingering nightmare.
Becca?
Francis strode over to her, sitting at the edge of the bed and reaching for her hand. Hey, you’re awake? Did you have a bad dream?
The sudden touch startled Rebecca. She yanked her hand away as if burned.
Becca? What’s going on-
*Smack!*
Before Francis could finish, Rebecca swung her arm and slapped him right across the face.
She stared down at her own hand, utterly confused, then jumped out of bed and bolted for the door.
Rebecca!
Francis snapped out of his daze, quickly catching her before she could leave the room. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.
What’s wrong? Please, tell me what’s wrong.
Let go of me!
Rebecca thrashed in his arms, desperate. They took Jamie away! I have to catch up-I have to find him before it’s too late!
Jamie? Francis didn’t quite understand, but he could guess enough from her frantic words.
Let me go! If I’m too late, I’ll never see Jamie again!
Rebecca…
His heart ached. He tightened his arms, holding her close. Hey, snap out of it. It’s me-Francis.
Fran…cis?
Rebecca’s eyes went unfocused as she repeated his name. Slowly, she looked up
at him, her gaze finally sharpening, coming back to reality.
Do you recognize me now?
Francis cradled her gently, one hand cupping her chin. It’s me-Francis. I’m Jamie’s dad. Our Jamie is. safe no one can take him away again.
He spoke softly, almost whispering, afraid to startle her.
He’s back with us, he’s doing great. You see him every day now, remember?
Rebecca stared at him, trying to process every word, slowly coming back to herself.
Her eyes went red. She looked down, and tears spilled freely down her cheeks.
You…
Francis watched her, a guess forming in his mind. You remember… everything about Jamie?
She nodded, eyes squeezed shut, her voice shaking with tears. I remember… I was pregnant with Jamie-thirty-nine weeks and six days. He was full term… natural birth…
Francis listened quietly, his heart twisting. These were things he’d never known before.
After he was born, he caught an infection… had to stay in the NICU. But whenever I held him, he’d stop crying…
Her words became harder and harder to get out.
My mom said—she said a child without a father had no place in our family… She sent him away. I couldn’t stop her…
Francis felt a sharp pain in his chest. He reached up and pulled Rebecca’s head gently to his shoulder, hugging her tightly.
He pressed a kiss to her hair, his voice barely a whisper.
I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…
He was sorry for her, for Jamie, for everything their little family had been through.
Jamie… Jamie…
Rebecca reached out, gripping Francis’ shirt, sobbing, her face wet with tears. Her lips trembled in a bitter-sweet smile.
I… I gave him that name. Jamie. I named him.
Francis froze, stunned. He’d found Jamie at the orphanage, and the director always said that was just his name-he’d always assumed someone at the orphanage had named him.
But it was Rebecca.
His mom gave him his name, Francis whispered, “and that name kept him safe
all these years. He grew up strong and healthy because of you.”