Chapter 1
“She’s bleeding out from postpartum hemorrhage, where the hell is her husband? Isn’t he supposed to be here?”
I opened my mouth to explain, to say Liam was a doctor and there had been an emergency at the hospital, but then Amber Thompson, his so-called “girl-bro”, sent me their wedding photos.
“Thanks for lending Liam to me, sis!”
“Had the best 30th birthday ever. Don’t worry, we won’t consummate the marriage, promise!”
In the photo, Liam was kissing Amber’s cheek, with their entire little crew around them, all beaming like they’d just won the lottery.
Meanwhile, I was bleeding out, needing a family member to sign off on emergency treatment, and Liam was nowhere to be found.
When I finally got through to him, all he said was:
“The baby’s out already. Can’t you just let me go?”
“Amber’s 30th is a big deal. Everyone’s here, I can’t just leave.”
“I promised her I’d stay for the whole thing.”
“Why do you have to ruin everything?”
And then, just before I blacked out, Amber sent another photo.
A king-sized bed. Liam lying beside her. Their friends cheering, playing wedding pranks.
“Oxygen saturation dropping, patient’s going into shock! Get blood from other hospitals, stat! Call in every specialist available!”
The hospital blared a Code Blue, the emergency alert for critical cases.
Doctors and nurses flooded my room. I could feel my life slipping away, my body light as a feather, like I might just float off the bed.
A nurse’s voice cut through the haze, soft but desperate:
“Hang in there. Your baby’s in the incubator, you haven’t even held them yet.”
“Don’t give up. Please don’t. We’re doing everything we can.”
Her words trembled. I couldn’t answer, but one thought burned in my mind:
My child. I can’t die. I can’t.
The hospital was pulling every resource, top OB-GYNs from across the city, emergency blood reserves, round-the-clock monitoring.
“Still no contact with the husband?”
“What kind of man turns off his phone at a time like this?”
“Her parents passed years ago. If we can’t reach him, we’ll proceed without consent. Saving her comes first.”
The voices around me faded in and out. Sometimes the silence was suffocating.
Are they giving up on me? Am I going to die on this table? Will I ever see my baby?
No. Liam would ruin my child’s life. If I die, they’re doomed.
I prayed for a miracle.
Instead, I heard panicked shouts:
“Where’s the blood? She’s crashing!”
“Any luck reaching Dr. Harrison from Central? He’s the best in obstetrics, we need him!”
Dr. Harrison.
I wanted to scream that Dr. Harrison was my missing husband.
But I couldn’t speak.
Someone sighed. “He won’t come. Took a week off, said it’s his honeymoon. Married his childhood best friend.”
“Always thought he’d stay single. Whenever we asked, he’d say he wasn’t interested. Guess he was waiting for her.”
So he’d never told his colleagues about me. No wonder he made me do my prenatal checkups elsewhere, “to avoid bothering the staff.”
A lie. He just didn’t want them knowing he had a wife of seven years.
“Forget Harrison. He’s busy with wedding pranks. Focus on saving her!”
Their voices were crystal clear, but I couldn’t move. The anesthesia dulled the pain but left me trapped in this nightmare, fully aware, utterly helpless.
I felt every incision. The tension in the room. The icy numbness spreading through my limbs.
Then, just as I thought it was over,
“Dr. Harrison’s on the line!” The head nurse’s shout cut through the chaos.
