The early morning air was damp, the street still half‑asleep as Ethan guided Lina into the car. Her hand clutched his, knuckles white with pain. They’d rehearsed this trip for weeks, but now the world had narrowed to breath, contraction, and the blur of hospital lights ahead.
In the delivery ward, nurses moved like focused shadows. Beads of sweat traced Lina’s temples as she gritted against each wave of pain. Ethan stayed at her side, murmuring comfort, counting her breaths. The monitor beep matched her labored rhythm. Hours blurred into moments, until a sharp cry split the thick air.