The doctor makes Damien go back to surgery.
He doesn't want to. Wants to stay. Protect me. But his shoulder's still bleeding through the bandages and the nurse threatens to call security.
"I'll be right here when you wake up," I promise. "I'm not going anywhere."
"You better not." He kisses me. Soft. Desperate. "I love you."
"I love you too. Now go get fixed so we can fix this mess."
After he's wheeled away, I lie there. Alone. Hand on my stomach where our daughter's fighting to stay alive.
"You're so loved," I whisper to her. "Your dad and I—we're a mess. We're broken and scared and we've made so many mistakes. But we love you. More than anything. And we're going to make sure you get to be born. Get to live. Get to be happy."
She moves. Tiny flutter. First time I've felt her move.
I burst into tears. "There you are. There's my girl."
My phone rings again. I almost don't answer. But it's Maya.
