“The baby, it’s coming!” Samantha shrieked again, her voice raw with pain, a stark contrast to the venom it had held moments before. Her body went rigid, then sagged, a guttural groan escaping her. The dark stain on her trousers was spreading, an alarming bloom of crimson.
Delia stared, her own hand still pressed to her belly, a mirror of Samantha’s plight. The cruel words, the threats, the hatred – for a brief, terrifying moment, it all evaporated in the face of this primal emergency. This wasn't about Thomas, or betrayal, or past hurts anymore. This was about a life, a child, teetering on the brink.
“Oh my god,” Delia whispered, her mind kicking into action. She fumbled for her own phone, her fingers clumsy with shock and a new, unsettling sense of urgency. “I’m calling an ambulance!”
