The constant movement of equipment into the room made me uneasy, and the door had been replaced with a kitchen-style door—no lock, no knob, just open for anyone to walk through. I felt exposed in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
I had come here on my own, hoping for security and a chance to avoid trouble, yet being here seemed to bring more complications. I thought of the test results and the trouble I’d narrowly escaped at the hospital, anxiety twisting through me. My twins shifted inside me, as if sensing my stress, and the machine beside me started beeping faster. Within seconds, the doctor entered, his face marked with concern.
“I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m just scared… I haven’t seen my husband, and I need to know he’s coming to see me soon.”
The doctor gave me a puzzled look, his voice low a
