Chapter 91: Worried
Matthew
I sit beside Sarah’s hospital bed, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps. The machines beep quietly, a reminder that she’s still here. That both the baby and her are here, alive.
My eyes burn from exhaustion, but I can’t bring myself to close them. Every time I do, I imagine her falling, her face drained of color, that look of pure terror in her eyes. I hear her voice, so small, telling me she was bleeding.
Christ.
I thought I was going to lose her.
I run my thumb over the back of her hand, careful not to disturb the IV. Her skin is warm now, not clammy like it was when I carried her to the car. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.
Sarah shifts in her sleep, making a small sound. I lean forward, instantly alert, but her eyes remain closed. A strand of hair has fallen across her face, and I gently brush it away, letting my fingers linger against her cheek.
"I’m here," I whisper, though she can’t hear me.
Marishka was here earlier, crying her eyes out, insisting that I let her stay overnight. Both Sarah and I had to force her to go back home.
The doctor said the next twenty-four hours would be critical. That she wasn’t completely well. But the bleeding has slowed, and our baby’s heartbeat has remained steady for the past few hours.
Our baby. The thought still catches me sometimes, makes my chest tight in a way I can’t fully describe. When I heard that heartbeat today, something inside me broke open. Something I’ve been trying to hold back since Sarah told me she was pregnant for real.