Chapter 3 - The Drive to the Hospital
Labor began at four seventeen in the morning.
I woke to a wave of pain so strong that I had to grip the edge of the bed.
For several seconds, I could not breathe normally.
Then the pain faded.
I looked at the hospital bag beside the door.
“Not yet,” I whispered. “Please, not yet.”
The next contraction came eleven minutes later.
I called three people.
The first was a neighbor who worked overnight and had not returned.
The second was a taxi company, but no cars were available nearby.
The third was Julian.
I hated myself for making that call, but he was still the baby’s father.
He answered after several rings.
“What?”
“The baby is coming.”
There was silence.
Then I heard music and laughter behind him.
“You need to drive me to the hospital.”
“Call an ambulance.”
“I can’t afford the bill.”
He sighed.
“Vivian, I’m not doing this with you.”
“This isn’t about us. It’s your son.”
“My attorney will handle everything after the birth.”
He ended the call.
I stood alone in my rented room, holding the phone against my chest.
Then I picked up my hospital bag and walked downstairs.
My old car started on the third attempt.
The streets were nearly empty, but every red light felt endless. I breathed through the contractions and repeated the directions aloud so I would not panic.
At one intersection, I considered pulling over.
Then I imagined Julian and Eleanor using my absence of preparation against me.
I kept driving.
A hospital attendant found me leaning against the car after I parked.
Within minutes, nurses had placed me in a wheelchair and rushed me upstairs.
Dr. Adrian Hale introduced himself while the nurses prepared the room.
He was in his early sixties, with silver hair and kind eyes that seemed unusually familiar.
“Is the baby’s father coming?” he asked.
“No.”
“Another relative?”
“No.”
He paused, then nodded.
“Then we will make sure you are not alone.”
The next hours blurred into pain, instructions, and encouraging voices.
A nurse named Grace held my hand.
Dr. Hale remained calm through every moment.
Just after noon, my son entered the world crying loudly.
The sound changed me.
For months, I had lived inside fear.
The instant I heard him, fear was replaced by something stronger.
Grace placed him briefly against me.
“He’s perfect,” she whispered.
I touched his warm cheek.
“Hello, Noah.”
Dr. Hale lifted him for the routine examination.
Then the room became strangely quiet.
The doctor stared at Noah’s face.
His eyes moved to the baby’s right hand.
His breathing stopped.
“No,” he whispered. “This isn’t possible.”
Tears gathered in his eyes.
I struggled to sit higher.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing,” Dr. Hale said quickly. “Your baby appears healthy.”
“Then why are you crying?”
He looked at Noah’s hand again.
“Who is his father?”
“My ex-husband. Julian Vance.”
The doctor nearly dropped the medical chart.
Before he could explain, Grace entered carrying my phone.
“There’s a man outside asking for you,” she said.
I knew who it was before the door opened.
May you like
Julian had ignored my call during labor.
But somehow, he had arrived less than fifteen minutes after the birth.
