“Is she—” My voice cracked. “Is she okay?”
“We’re doing everything we can.”
“And the baby?”
A beat.
Then: “We’re working on that too.”
Time stretched.
Minutes felt like hours.
I sat. I stood. I paced.
And then my phone buzzed again.
Not my mother this time.
Dr. Melissa Crane.
I answered immediately.
“This is Michael Carter.”
“Michael,” a calm but urgent voice said. “I’ve been trying to reach Sarah. Is she with you?”
“She’s in surgery,” I said. “Emergency C-section.”
A sharp inhale on the other end.
“I was afraid of that.”
“What’s going on?” I demanded. “She had test results. My mother took them.”
Another pause.
Then: “Those results showed a complication. A serious one.”
My chest tightened again.
“What kind?”
