Part 2:
The knock came again. Louder. More urgent. For one desperate heartbeat, I couldn't move. Another contraction seized my body, forcing me to curl against the couch as tears blurred my vision. "Help..." I whispered, though I wasn't sure anyone could hear me. The knocking stopped. Then a familiar voice called through the door. "Emma? It's Mrs. Carter. Are you alright?" My elderly neighbor. She had lived across the street for nearly fifteen years. I tried to answer, but another wave of agony stole my breath. A second later, I heard the doorknob rattle. Locked. "Emma!" The fear in her voice was unmistakable. "I... I'm here..." I managed to choke out. Silence. Then hurried footsteps raced across the porch. Within moments, another voice arrived. A man's. "Stand back." A loud crack echoed through the hallway. Once. Twice. The third hit splintered the old wooden frame. The front door burst inward. Mrs. Carter rushed inside first, followed by her grandson, a firefighter who had been visiting her that afternoon. The moment they saw me lying in a pool of water and scattered paperwork, both of their faces drained of color. "Oh my God." Mrs. Carter dropped to her knees beside me. "Emma, sweetheart..." She reached for my trembling hand. It felt like the first act of kindness I'd received all day. "The babies..." I gasped. "I can't feel them moving." The firefighter had already pulled out his phone. "We need an ambulance now." His voice was calm, practiced. "This is an obstetric emergency. Thirty-eight weeks with twins. Possible obstructed labor. Patient's water has broken." He looked directly at me. "Stay with me." I nodded weakly. My entire body shook. Mrs. Carter gathered the papers scattered across the floor. One sheet caught her attention. Her eyes froze on the words circled in thick red marker. DO NOT DELAY TRANSPORT. HIGH-RISK TWIN PREGNANCY. IMMEDIATE HOSPITAL EVALUATION REQUIRED. She slowly looked back at me. "Where's Blake?" I swallowed. "He... took his mother shopping." Neither of them spoke. The silence that followed somehow hurt more than any words could have. The firefighter closed his eyes for a brief second before returning to the dispatcher. "Hurry," he said quietly. "We've got fetal distress." Within minutes, distant sirens filled the neighborhood. Neighbors began gathering outside. Curtains opened. People stepped onto porches. Questions spread faster than the flashing lights. The paramedics rushed through the broken doorway carrying medical bags. One immediately attached monitors across my swollen abdomen. The room became frighteningly quiet. He frowned. Then adjusted the sensor. Again. Still no smile. "Heartbeat?" another medic asked. "I've got Baby A..." A pause. "...weak." He moved the probe. "And Baby B?" The medic searched longer this time. Much longer. Finally... "...Very faint." Every face in the room changed. "We're losing time." The stretcher rolled beside me. As they carefully lifted me, another contraction tore through my body so violently that I screamed. One of the paramedics squeezed my shoulder. "Stay with us." Mrs. Carter climbed into the front passenger seat of the ambulance without hesitation. "I'm her emergency contact now." Nobody questioned her. The ambulance doors slammed shut. The sirens erupted. As we sped toward the hospital, I stared at the ceiling lights flashing above me. I wasn't thinking about Blake anymore. I wasn't thinking about Diane. I wasn't thinking about their shopping trip. I was praying. Please let my babies live. Forty-three minutes later, the ambulance screeched to a stop outside Mercy General Hospital. Doctors and nurses were already waiting. The moment they wheeled me through the emergency entrance, everything became a blur. Bright lights. Running footsteps. Medical orders shouted across hallways. "Twin pregnancy!" "Emergency C-section!" "Prepare OR Two!" A nurse flipped through my medical folder while another adjusted my oxygen mask. Then the first nurse suddenly stopped. She looked at the paperwork. Then at me. Then back at the chart. "Where's the husband?" Nobody answered. Another nurse quietly said, "Apparently... he left." Several staff members exchanged stunned looks. One older obstetrician removed his glasses and stared toward the ceiling for a second before muttering words no family should ever cause a doctor to say. "He left a woman in active twin labor... alone?" The operating room fell silent. Then the surgeon looked directly at me. "We're going to do everything we can." I wanted to answer. Instead, darkness crept into the corners of my vision. The anesthesia mask lowered toward my face. Just before everything faded, the emergency room doors burst open. A security officer hurried toward the surgical team. "Doctor..." he spoke in a low voice. "The husband just arrived." I closed my eyes. For one impossible second, I actually thought Blake had finally come because he loved me. Then the security officer finished his sentence. "...He's demanding to know who gave the neighbors permission to break his front door."
