PART 3 The Night Everything Went Wrong
One month later, a winter storm hit the city.
Clara was working an overnight shift.
Seven and a half months pregnant.
The emergency department was overwhelmed.
Ambulances kept arriving.
Patients filled every hallway.
Then pain struck.
Sharp.
Sudden.
Wrong.
Clara knew immediately.
Something wasn't right.
She tried to keep working.
For twenty minutes.
Then another contraction came.
And another.
A nurse grabbed her arm.
"Clara, sit down."
The room spun.
Within minutes she became the patient.
Not the doctor.
Ethan arrived just as the maternity team rushed her upstairs.
Fear covered his face.
Not for himself.
For her.
For the baby.
Hours passed.
Complications appeared.
Doctors worked urgently.
Outside the operating room, Ethan sat beside Chloe.
Neither spoke.
Neither could.
Then the doors opened.
A physician stepped outside.
The look on his face stole all the air from the hallway.
"The baby is alive."
Relief hit instantly.
"But..."
Every parent fears that word.
"The next twenty-four hours are critical."
Chloe squeezed Ethan's hand so tightly it hurt.
Then whispered:
"He has to stay."
Nobody corrected her.
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Because by then everyone knew exactly who "he" was.
Her little brother.
