The contractions became stronger almost immediately.
I tried calling Evan.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
I called Margaret.
Straight to voicemail.
I attempted to gather my hospital paperwork from the coffee table, but another contraction forced me to sit down.
That was when fear finally replaced anger.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
I called emergency services.
By the time the ambulance arrived, I could barely reach the front door.
A paramedic stood on the porch.
The moment he saw me, his expression became serious.
“Ma’am, are you here by yourself?”
I nodded.
Another contraction hit.
“My husband left.”
The paramedic stared at me for half a second before immediately calling the rest of the team inside.
Within moments, medical equipment filled the living room.
One paramedic monitored me while another contacted dispatch.
“We have a high-risk twin pregnancy with possible complications. Patient was found alone and requires immediate transport.”
Found alone.
Those two words stayed with me.
The room around us looked like evidence of everything that had happened.
Hospital papers scattered across the coffee table.
A chair pushed aside.
My phone on the floor.
No husband.
No mother-in-law.
No family.
Only strangers who had arrived when the people who promised to protect me had chosen not to.
The ambulance ride felt endless.
One paramedic stayed beside me.
“We’re going straight to Mercy General.”
I gripped the stretcher.
“My babies?”
“We’re monitoring them. Stay with us.”
I closed my eyes.
I stopped thinking about Evan.
Stopped thinking about Margaret.
There was only one thing left in my mind.
Please let my daughters be okay.
Comments (0)