Dr. Adams leans in. “Baby number two is coming fast. Kaia, focus. You need to push.”
“No. Not yet!” My body feels shredded, my heart already torn raw.
I haven’t even held my son.
How can I do thisagain?
Ingrid grips my hand tight, her eyes blazing with determination. “Yes, you can! You’re stronger than this storm.”
Lani leans down, pressing her forehead briefly against mine, her tears spilling onto my cheek. “Push, Kaia. Hurricane’s here. He won’t let you fall.”
The next contraction crashes through me. I scream, my body straining, vision swimming. Every nerve is fire. Every breath is a war.
And then—release.
Dr. Adams’ voice cuts sharp. “She’s here, your baby girl’s out.”
But a deathly silence follows.
No cry.
The air in the room changes instantly.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
With what little strength I have, I sit up on my elbows and look down at the end of the bed. “Why isn’t she c-crying?” My voice cracks, wild and high, panic clawing through me. “Whythe fuckisn’t she crying?”
Chapter Fifteen
KAIA
Nurses swoop in, urgent now, taking her from Dr. Adams and rushing her to the warmer. Their voices turn clipped, professional. “Clear the airway. Suction. Stimulate.”
“She’snot breathing,”I scream, thrashing, trying to tear myself off the bed. Ingrid and Lani pin me down, their weight is the only thing stopping me from launching after my daughter.
“They’ve got h-her, Kaia,” Ingrid cries, her own tears streaming, her voice breaking as she fights to keep me in place. “Trust them. Youhaveto trust them.”
“Please, oh God. Please,nooo!”My sob is pain, broken.
Ican’tloseher.
I’ve already losthim.
Please, God, not her too.
Lani clutches my shoulders, sobbing into my ear. “She’s strong. She’s her daddy’s girl. She’s going to fight. You know she will.”
But the silence stretches.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
I hear everything, the frantic rub of tiny limbs, the suction pump whirring, the nurses’ clipped commands. My vision tunnels, black creeping at the edges.
