“I’m… not sure,” I whispered.
Jack yanked off his backpack and unzipped it in one swift motion. “I’ve got it. Don’t move.” He tore open the medical kit, slipping on latex gloves before grabbing gauze and a bottle of saline. Working quickly and with surprising steadiness, he cleaned the wound, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” he murmured. “But we should head back. Omar’s a trained paramedic—he’ll get you stitched up properly and we’ll return after?—”
“No.” I cut him off. “We can’t stop now.”
I screamed as he cinched the bandage tight around my head.
He gritted his teeth and reached for my arm to lift me. “Alina, you’re bleeding. Please. Let’s go, get you checked, and then?—”
A sliver of sunlight shifted across his face, painting him in a ghostly pallor. The shadows danced behind him, wild and unrelenting, twisting his features into something almost unrecognizable—like a warning.
Then I felt it.
A sudden rush of warmth.
I looked down.
My khakis were soaked—warm liquid spreading too quickly, too fast.
Jack’s eyes widened in horror.
“No. No, no, no… what the—?” he stammered, his face draining of color.
My heart seized.
“My water broke!” I screamed, the words ripping out of me. “I’m going to have the baby—right now!It can’t be happening! It justcan’t!”
I collapsed against the cave wall, my breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps. Pain shot through me like fire, every nerve on edge, every muscle tensed with terror.
“This is all your fault!” I shrieked at Jack, spitting the words like venom. “Youinsisted I keep this baby!”
Grief, fury, and desperation boiled inside me, and without thinking, I grabbed at my belly, eyes wild. My hand closed around a jagged rock on the cave floor.
If I ended it now… if I stopped this…
I raised the rock, intent on ending the life inside me.
Jack lunged, seizing my wrist just in time.
“No, Alina!” he shouted. “Don’t do this! You’re stronger than this—youcanget through it!”
I thrashed in his grip, knocking the lantern across the cave. It crashed against the wall and went out in an instant.
The light vanished.
We were plunged into darkness.
A guttural cry tore from my throat as another contraction ripped through me. I clutched my belly, breath ragged, trying to remember what the birthing coach had taught me—to breathe, to focus—but everything was chaos.
Jack tried to soothe me, but his words were hollow echoes in the dark. He felt oppressive. Useless.
I wasn’t ready. I had never been prepared.
“I can’t do this,” I muttered, my voice shaking, almost lost beneath my shallow breathing.
But even as I said it, I knew the truth.
