Husband Leaves Pregnant Wife for Influencer Until Parents Deliver Wedding Photo Gift
Doctor Davis, a tall woman with silver hair pulled back in a neat clip, adjusted the monitor strap across my stomach. She checked the drip rate on the clear IV bag hanging above my head, tapping the plastic tube with her index finger to clear a tiny bubble. The black ink on the paper machine rolled out in a long, unbroken ribbon, charting the peaks of each contraction with a tiny red needle.
“You are doing very well, Savannah,” Doctor Davis said, checking the IV drip hanging from the metal pole.
“The next one is coming,” I said.
My voice sounded small, thinner than I wanted it to be, but Tilly did not let go. She smoothed her gray wool skirt flat against her knees with her free hand, a familiar gesture that made the sterile room feel slightly more like home. Her quiet presence was the only thing keeping the room from spinning.
“Focus on the breathing, just like before,” Doctor Davis said, moving to the end of the bed.
