Not answering.
My mind goes to the many promises he’s made over the past few months. The vows to be more present and prioritize me and the baby. He swore he’d be there when I needed him.
Yet here I am, lying in a hospital bed after collapsing in front of my students, and he can’t even pick up his phone.
“Can I have my phone?” I ask hoarsely.
Mom retrieves it from the small table beside the bed. I pull up Jin’s contact and hit call, pressing the phone to my ear with a shaky hand.
It rings and rings and then goes to voice mail. I wait for the beep and then choke out, “Jin, I’m at the hospital. I collapsed in my classroom. Where are you? Nobody’s been able to get hold of you, and I’m worried. You said you’d be here for emergencies. Please call me back! I love you.”
The line beeps again, signifying I’ve been cut off.
I hang up with a deep sigh, resorting to textinghim next.
Call me back asap
It’s an emergency
Please
I’m sending off the messages when the door opens and Dr. Gong steps through.
“Monroe, how are you feeling?” she asks gently, her white coat crisp and dark bob sleek. She stops at my bedside with an expression that’s soft and sympathetic.
“Better,” I answer honestly. “Still a little shaky, but better. What happened to me?”
“Your blood sugar was dangerously low when you collapsed. Combined with some other markers we found in your initial tests, I believe you’re experiencing gestational diabetes. It’s not uncommon, especially given the family history you mentioned—your mother had similar issues during her pregnancy, correct?”
Mom stifles a breath, raising her hand to her mouth as if she’s on the verge of crying. “So she collapsed because she’s diabetic like I was while pregnant?”
“That’s what we believe,” says Dr. Gong. “The good news is that gestational diabetes is very manageable. You’ll need to make some dietary changes—more frequent small meals and monitoring your sugar intake. That sort of thing. I’ll send you home with detailed instructions and a glucose monitor.”
“And the baby?” I prompt. “He’s really okay?”
Dr. Gong’s expression softens even more. “He’s doing fine. Regular heartbeat and normal movement.Whatever caused your blood sugar to drop, it doesn’t seem to have affected him. You’re both going to be just fine.”
The relief is so powerful I sag back against the pillows, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
Fine. We’re going to be fine.
“Iamrunning one more panel,” Dr. Gong adds, referencing her tablet. “Just to be thorough. The results should be ready in a few hours—I’ll call you if anything comes up that we need to discuss. But for now, I’m comfortable discharging you. Go home, rest, eat something tasty and nutritious, and try to avoid stress.”
“Thank you, Dr. Gong. I’m so sorry for the scare.”
She gently squeezes my shoulder. “Take care of yourself and the little one, Monroe.”
Sang-cheol is waiting for us at the hospital entrance, his expression as stoic as ever except for the flicker of concern in his gaze. He opens the back door of the black sedan without a word, helping Mom guide me inside like I’m made of glass.
“Have you heard from Jin?” I ask him as he slides into the driver’s seat.
He regretfully glances at me through the rearview mirror. “Not yet, Miss Monroe. I’ve tried reaching him several times. His phone goes straight to voicemail now.”
Straight to voicemail. Which means it’s either dead or turned off.
I don’t know which possibility is worse.
The drive home passes fast, with Mom’s attempts to fill the silence with reassurances and plans for dinner. I respond on autopilot, nodding and murmuring agreement, but my mind is elsewhere.
