Chapter 5 - The Early Delivery
The stress and trauma of the attack finally pushed my exhausted body past its physical limits.
On my fifth day in the hospital, the fetal monitors suddenly began blaring a terrifying alarm.
Nurses rushed into the room, their faces grim and focused as they checked my vitals.
My blood pressure was skyrocketing, and the baby's heart rate was dropping dangerously low.
The trauma surgeon burst through the doors, shouting orders to prep the emergency operating room.
I was going into premature labor, and my body was failing to handle the massive strain.
Julian was called back to the hospital, arriving just as they were wheeling me down the sterile hallway.
He ran alongside my gurney, pretending to cry, shouting that he couldn't lose his family.
I glared at him through the haze of pain, wishing I could rip the fake mask right off his face.
The blinding lights of the operating theater swallowed me as the anesthesia finally took hold.
I woke up hours later in a quiet, dimly lit recovery room.
The crushing weight in my belly was gone, replaced by a dull, throbbing surgical ache.
A nurse noticed my open eyes and rushed over with a warm, gentle smile.
She told me that I had delivered a beautiful, fighting baby girl who was currently in the NICU.
Tears of pure, unadulterated joy spilled over my eyelashes and soaked my pillow.
My daughter had survived the monster's attack, and she was breathing on her own.
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I silently vowed to the universe that Julian would never lay a single finger on her.
She was my ultimate reason to fight, and I was going to make her father pay for every tear.
