Chapter 9 - Twenty-Four Weeks
The pain started at 2:17 on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.
Emma was shelving travel books when a hard cramp folded her in half.
Mara dropped a stack of paperbacks.
"Emma?"
"I'm fine."
Then another contraction came.
She was not fine.
At the hospital, Dr. Shah used words Emma had been praying not to hear.
Cervical change.
Possible preterm labor.
Twenty-four weeks.
Too early.
Emma gripped the bedrail while a nurse adjusted the monitor.
"Please tell me the baby is okay."
"Heartbeat is strong," Priya said. "We're giving medication to calm the contractions and steroids to help the baby's lungs in case we need them."
Emma started crying.
"I did this. I should never have flown. I should never have—"
"Stop." Priya's voice was firm. "You did not cause this by leaving a bad situation."
Hours passed.
The contractions slowed.
The baby stayed inside.
At midnight, Emma finally called Eleanor.
"Can you tell Nathan something?"
"Anything."
"Tell him the baby is safe. Don't tell him where I am."
"I promise."
Nathan was in a board meeting when his mother called.
He stood so fast his chair struck the wall.
"What happened?"
"Possible premature labor. They stabilized her."
"Where?"
"I promised not to tell you."
Nathan closed his eyes.
Instead he asked, "Does she need anything?"
Eleanor was silent for a moment.
"That was the right question."
The next morning, a package arrived at Emma's hospital room through Eleanor.
No flowers.
No diamonds.
Inside was Nathan's old blue scarf, faded and soft from years of use.
The one he had worn the night they met.
A note lay beneath it.
I keep wanting to tell you I can fix everything. That's the version of me who thinks every problem is a transaction.
I can't fix what I did.
I can only change what I do next and let you decide whether it matters.
I love you. I love our child. Neither gives me the right to demand access to you.
Emma read it twice before tears blurred the ink.
Then Dr. Shah entered with a serious expression.
"Emma, we need to talk about your blood pressure."
The monitor beside the bed began beeping.
May you like
Priya looked at the numbers.
"It's climbing."
