A hush falls over the cabin as Stephanie’s voice comes over the PA, calm but firmer than usual.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it appears we’re experiencing some technical difficulties. This isnotan emergency. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened while the crew assesses the situation. We will be deplaning using stairs once ground personnel arrive.”
A ripple of chatter spreads through the cabin, nervous but contained. I force myself to take a slow breath, one hand instinctively drifting to my stomach.
Please be okay,I think.Please, please be okay.
I force myself to stay upright, one hand still hovering protectively over my stomach as I scan the aisle. The passengers are watching me now, a mix of curiosity and concern in their eyes, but I paste on the calmest smile I can manage.
Stay professional. Stay composed.
Once everyone’s seated again, I make my way to the front of the cabin, every step measured even though my knees feel like they could buckle any second. Stephanie’s waiting for me by the forward galley, her brow creased in concern.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asks, eyes flicking briefly to my stomach.
“Yeah,” I lie. My voice sounds steadier than I feel. “Just… lost my balance, that’s all.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she nods anyway. “The tire blew, so the ground crew’s on their way. We’ll deplane with stairs, no need to alarm anyone.”
“Got it.” I swallow hard. “I’ll help with the forward exit.”
The next fifteen minutes feel like the longest of my life. I smile and thank passengers as they step off the plane one by one, making small talk, answering questions, pretending everything is perfectly fine. My training kicks in like muscle memory, calm voice, reassuring tone, composed body language.
But inside, I’m screaming.
Every twinge in my stomach, every phantom ache, every moment that passes without the baby moving is a new wave of panic.
When the last passenger is gone and the doors close behind us, I excuse myself quickly, telling Stephanie I’ll catch up later. My hands are trembling as I make my way through the terminal, barely aware of the announcements overhead or the rolling suitcases passing me by.
By the time I step outside into the afternoon heat, my chest feels like it’s caving in.
A taxi pulls up to the curb, and I yank the door open, sliding into the back seat. “Take me to the closest ER,” I tell the driver, my voice shaking.
“Right away, miss,” he says, pulling into traffic.
My hands are already fumbling for my phone. It takes me three tries before I hit Matthew’s contact. It rings once. Twice. Three times.
He picks up on the fourth. “Brooke?”
My breath catches. Just hearing his voice makes the panic bubble over. “I-I’m sorry,” I manage, my voice trembling so hard the words barely form. “I’m so sorry, Matthew.”
“What? What’s wrong? What happened?”
I fold in on myself, one arm wrapped around my middle, the other gripping the phone like it’s the only thing tethering me to the world. “I fell,” I choke out. “I know you didn’t want me to work and I can’t believe I was so stupid, I fell and… and God, I haven’t felt the baby move since.”
Tears stream down my face, hot and relentless.
“Brooke,” Matthew’s voice cuts through the panic, steady and sure even though I can hear the edge of fear underneath. “Take a deep breath. Just breathe. Where are you?”
“I’m… I’m in a taxi. On my way to the ER.”
“Which one?”
I lower the phone, my voice shaking as I ask the driver, “Where are we going?”
“Elmhurst Hospital,” he says over his shoulder.
I bring the phone back to my ear. “Elmhurst,” I whisper.
