"I'll talk to her."
"Do it soon. We need to know what we're working with."
I hang up and stare at my phone. Everything's falling apart. My career, my freedom. And now Maya's going to be dragged through court because of my choices.
Footsteps on the stairs. Chase appears, looking exhausted and panicked.
"Emma’s water broke."
I freeze. "What?"
"Her water broke, and it's too early. The baby's not supposed to come yet."
I'm already moving. "Did you call an ambulance?"
"Yeah, they're on the way. But Jackson, she's freaking out. She needs..."
I take the stairs two at a time. Emma's in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub, face pale and terrified. There's fluid on the floor.
"Em." I crouch in front of her. "Breathe. Just breathe."
"It's too early. The baby's not ready, I'm only thirty-one weeks..."
"Thirty-two," Chase corrects, appearing behind me with shaking hands. "You just reached thirty-two weeks. The doctor said it has good outcomes, remember?"
"But it's still premature. What if… what if something's wrong? What if she can't..."
She stops mid-sentence, hand flying to her mouth.
"Wait," I say slowly. "She?"
Emma's eyes go wide.
"You're having a girl?" Maya's voice comes from the doorway, and when I turn, she's standing there in sleep shorts and one of my t-shirts, hair a mess but face alert. "Em, you're having a girl?"
"We were going to surprise everyone," Emma says, tears streaming down her face. "We had this whole party planned for next month. But I guess my daughter decided to come early and ruin her own party."
Despite everything, despite the panic and the fear, I feel something warm bloom in my chest. A niece. I'm about to have a niece.
Maya kneels beside Emma, slipping effortlessly into professional mode. "How far apart are the contractions?"
"I don't know. Maybe five minutes?"
"Okay. That's early labor, we have time." Maya's checking Emma's pulse, her eyes tracking something I can't see. "Is she moving?"
"Yes. A lot. She's... oh god, another contraction..."
Emma doubles over, and Maya's hand is on her back, steady and sure.
"Breathe through it. In through your nose, out through your mouth. That's it, you're doing great."
I watch Maya transform. This isn't the broken woman who showed up unexpectedly; this is the nurse, the professional, the person who saves lives.
The ambulance arrives. Paramedics flood the room with equipment and questions. Maya's answering everything: Emma's medical history, the pregnancy timeline, when contractions started, and how far apart they are.
"I'm a pediatric nurse," she tells them. "Worked in labor and delivery during training. She's thirty-two weeks, water broke approximately fifteen minutes ago, contractions five minutes apart and intensifying."
"We need to get her to the hospital now," one of the paramedics says.
