Hours later, when the first contraction hit, my breath caught in my throat. Fear and pain mixed together, and without thinking, I reached for my phone. I called him — once, twice, thirty times. Each ring that went unanswered sank deeper into my chest.
By the time my brother arrived to rush me to the hospital, I could barely speak through the contractions. The pain was physical, but beneath it was something sharper — heartbreak.
The Call That Broke Him
Then, finally, my phone rang. It was him.
My brother looked at me, then picked up. His voice was steady but heavy with emotion.
He said four words that would carve themselves into our story forever:
“She didn’t make it.”
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