“How long has this been happening?” I asked, my voice rough and shaking.
Claire blinked slowly, trying to focus through the pain.
“Since around ten… maybe earlier,” she whispered. “At first I thought it was cramps. Then it kept getting worse.”
She swallowed hard before continuing.
“I tried calling you.”
My eyes immediately moved toward her phone lying face down on the nightstand.
Something inside me collapsed.
I grabbed it with trembling fingers and turned it over.
The screen lit instantly.
Twenty missed calls.
Every single one from Claire.
Two emergency calls had connected briefly before disconnecting.
My chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe.
“I couldn’t really talk,” she murmured after noticing my expression. “I panicked. Then I thought maybe I was overreacting.”
That sentence hurt more than it should have.
Because while my pregnant wife was terrified of seeming dramatic, I had spent the first few seconds imagining betrayal instead of danger.
I helped her sit up carefully, but the second she moved, pain twisted across her face sharply enough to make her gasp and grab my arm.
“We’re going to the hospital,” I said immediately.
She nodded weakly.
“My medical file… top drawer.”
I opened the drawer too fast, sending papers flying everywhere.
Receipts.
Prenatal paperwork.
Appointment reminders.
Old movie ticket stubs.
