---
The ultrasound gel was cold on my stomach. I flinched, and Dr. Evans made a soft, apologetic sound and adjusted the wand.
I stared at the ceiling tiles. I couldn't bring myself to look at the screen yet. I didn't want to see a blank space. I didn't want to see anything wrong.
The room was silent except for the low hum of the machine.
Then - *whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.*
Fast. Steady. Alive.
My head snapped toward the screen before I could stop it.
There. A tiny flicker. A rhythm. A real, impossible, insistent little pulse in the middle of the grainy black-and-white dark.
"There's your heartbeat," Dr. Evans said quietly. "One hundred and sixty-four beats per minute. Textbook. The baby is completely fine, Caroline. The seatbelt did exactly what it was supposed to do."
