The waiting room at Sterling Medical Center was silent, save for the aggressive ticking of the clock. William paced the length of the room, his shirt stained with the sweat of his panic. Dominic sat on one of the plastic chairs, still as a statue, staring at the floor.
They hadn’t spoken since the ambulance arrived. The air between them was thick with unsaid violence.
Finally, the double doors swung open. A doctor stepped out–not Maya Khan, but a senior obstetrician with a grim expression.
Both men stood up instantly.
“Family of Victoria Vance?” the doctor asked.
“I’m her husband,” William said, stepping forward, his voice ragged. “Is she okay? Is it… is it a brain aneurysm? Stress?”
“She is stable,” the doctor said, checking his clipboard. “We’ve started her on IV fluids. It was severe dehydration and exhaustion compounded by high stress.”
William let out a breath he felt he’d been holding for an hour. “Thank god.”
“However,” the doctor continued, his tone serious. “We need to monitor her closely tonight. This level of physical stress is putting the fetus at risk. We need to be extremely careful with the pregnancy moving forward.”
The world stopped.
William froze. The words echoed in his head, nonsensical and deafening. *Fetus. Pregnancy.*
He looked at the doctor, waiting for the punchline, waiting for the correction. Then he looked at Dominic.
Dominic didn’t look shocked. He looked resigned. He looked like a man who had been keeping a secret.
William turned back to the doctor, his face draining of all color.
“What pregnancy?” William whispered.