I needed the phone.
I struggled to stand, legs like noodles. I shuffled back to the bedroom and grabbed my phone from the nightstand.
Maya's number sat at the top of my contacts.
No. Can't call her. My fingers shook violently. Maya's body couldn't handle this kind of shock. If she knew something happened to me, she'd rush over no matter what. That would kill her.
I gritted my teeth and dialed 911.
Panicked as I was, I still managed to give the dispatcher my location and situation accurately. Then I used my nursing training to control myself—sat on the floor, back against the couch, legs propped awkwardly on the coffee table.
I took deep breaths, reassuring myself over and over: The baby will be okay. You'll be okay. Breathe. In. Out.
Blood kept flowing, soaking my nightgown, soaking the carpet.
Every second of waiting stretched endlessly, each breath bringing sharp pain from my abdomen. Like someone was tearing at my uterus with rusty pliers, over and over, merciless.
Tears spilled uncontrollably, blurring my vision. I sat there in a pool of blood, feeling it gradually cool from hot to cold. I was so cold. I needed a blanket. Needed someone to help me. But no one was there.
What if I died? What if the baby died? What would happen to Maya? Would losing me make her give up treatment completely? And Lucas? Would he shed a single tear for me?
No. Can't think about this. I bit my lip hard, tasting blood. I had to be strong. For Maya. For the baby. For myself.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. My body felt submerged in water, everything muffled. Until the door burst open and paramedics in uniforms rushed in, lifting me onto a stretcher with practiced efficiency, encouraging me constantly. But I was barely conscious, just images shifting and moving. Someone prying my eyelids open. A cold needle piercing my vein.
Just as I was losing consciousness, I heard a familiar voice, like a hammer slamming into my temple.
"Ella!"
My sister's voice. She was crying.
"Ella!"
The fog cleared. I snapped back. Damn. How did I end up at Maya's hospital?
No. I realized. Of course the ambulance brought me to the nearest ER. I'd rented two blocks away to be close to her.
The nurses here all knew me. Someone must have told her.
God. What do I do?
"Miss, you can't come in." A nurse blocked her. "This is a sterile area."
"That's my sister!" Maya struggled, voice hoarse. "Let me see her!"
I opened my mouth, trying to squeeze out words to comfort her. But I had no strength left to speak. The image of Maya locked outside the operating room was the last thing I remembered. Darkness rushed in like a tide, swallowing me whole.
When I opened my eyes again, it was the next morning.
Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting striped shadows on white sheets. I blinked, trying to focus. The baby! I suddenly remembered why I was here. How was my baby?
"Ella, you're awake?" A surprised male voice came from beside me. I turned to find Joe. Somehow, he'd been keeping watch in my room.
"Joe!" I grabbed his hand like a lifeline. "My baby—is it okay?"
"It's fine," Joe squeezed back gently, reassuring. "Some marginal placental bleeding, but you caught it in time. Stable now."
I exhaled in relief, but immediately my heart clenched: Maya's cries flooded back. I sat up abruptly. "Maya? How is she?"
