Chapter 16
1662 Words
The baby had barely rested on Ella’s chest for a full minute before the nurses gently but urgently lifted her away.
“She needs to go to the incubator,” one of them said quickly. “She’s premature.”
The tiny cry that filled the delivery room was fragile — not loud, not strong nor weak— but alive. It trembled in the air like a thread holding onto hope.
“It’s a girl,” another nurse announced softly.
Daniel felt his knees weaken.
A girl.
His daughter.
But before the joy could settle, it was replaced with fear.
“She was born at thirty-two weeks,” the doctor added, already giving instructions. “Move quickly.”
The baby was small — too small. Her skin looked delicate, almost translucent, and her breathing came in light, uneven movements. The nurses wrapped her carefully and rushed her out.
Daniel tried to follow, but another nurse blocked him.
“You need to wait outside, sir.”
The doors swung shut.
Outside in the corridor, the world felt cold.
Daniel paced back and forth, his hands trembling uncontrollably. He could still hear Ella’s faint voice calling his name before she was wheeled away.
Anita stood frozen near the wall, tears streaming down her face.
“What happened?” she cried as she saw the nurses rushing Ella toward the emergency ward. “Where are you taking my sister? What’s wrong with her?!”
No one stopped to answer.
The emergency doors closed again.
Silence.
The kind of silence that suffocates.
Daniel’s breathing became uneven. His fingers shook so badly he had to clasp his hands together to steady them.
Meanwhile, Mamacita stood there — composed, firm, watching both of them.
She walked up to Daniel and grabbed his shoulders.
“If you are acting like this, what do you want us to do?” she said firmly. “Stop shivering and be a man.”
Daniel looked at her helplessly.
“I… I don’t know what’s happening.”
Mamacita released him, stepped a few feet away, and slowly went down on her knees in the middle of the hospital corridor.
She folded her hands and began to pray.
“God, you gave the child. Protect both mother and baby. Whatever this battle is, let it not end in tears.”
Even Anita, who had been sobbing uncontrollably, went quiet at the sound of her prayer.
Minutes felt like hours.
Every time the emergency doors made a sound, their hearts jumped.
After what felt like eternity, the doctor finally stepped out.
His expression was serious.
Too serious.
“Are you the family of Miss Ella?” he asked.
Anita rushed forward. “Yes. I’m her elder sister.”
Daniel stood beside her, his heart pounding violently in his chest.
The doctor looked at all three of them carefully before speaking.
“There are complications.”
The words dropped like stones.
Even Mamacita, who had been strong all along, felt her chest tighten.
“What kind of complications?” Daniel asked, his voice barely steady.
The doctor adjusted his glasses.
“One of you should volunteer so I can explain everything in my office. It’s sensitive.”
Sensitive?
Daniel felt dizzy.
Today… of all days.
He remembered the cruise ship.
The decorations.
The diamond ring.
Ella’s wide smile when he went down on one knee.
“You said you wanted a big proposal,” he had told her. “So here it is.”
She had laughed, glowing, happy.
And then…
Water.
A scream.
“My water just broke.”
Everything had changed within seconds.
Today, he proposed.
Today, she gave birth.
Today, she was fighting complications.
“Why is all this happening unexpectedly?” Daniel muttered under his breath.
He looked up — and his eyes met Anita’s.
For one brief second, everything that had once existed between them flickered in that gaze.
History.
Pain.
Unspoken words.
But Anita immediately looked away.
She straightened her posture.
She would not cross that line again.
He is someone else’s fiancé now.
And she had promised herself she would heal.
Before anyone could step forward, a nurse rushed out from another room holding a file.
“How many weeks did you say she was again?” she asked.
“Thirty-two weeks,” Daniel responded quickly.
The nurse frowned.
“Thirty-two?”
“Yes.”
She exchanged a look with another nurse who had just joined her.
“If the baby is thirty-two weeks,” the second nurse whispered, “her lungs should still be underdeveloped. She shouldn’t be breathing this steadily without major assistance.”
Daniel felt his stomach drop.
“What are you saying?” he asked.
The first nurse looked uncertain.
“Is the pregnancy timeline correct?”
The question hung in the air.
Correct?
Daniel blinked.
Of course it was correct.
Wasn’t it?
Ella had told him she was pregnant shortly after he and Anita met.
The timeline had seemed rushed.
But he had never questioned it.
He loved her.
He trusted her.
Didn’t he?
The nurses walked back inside, murmuring among themselves.
Anita’s heart started racing — not from jealousy, not from bitterness — but from confusion.
Something wasn’t adding up.
Mamacita leaned closer to Anita and whispered, “Go talk to him. He needs comfort.”
Anita paused.
Her heart trembled at the thought.
The old Anita would have walked straight to Daniel.
She would have held his hand.
She would have whispered that everything would be okay.
But the new Anita swallowed her emotions.
“No,” she said quietly. “He has a fiancée now. I can’t go.”
Mamacita studied her carefully.
There was no bitterness in Anita’s voice.
Just acceptance.
“I can see you are healing,” Mamacita said softly.
Because the old Anita would never have stepped back.
The old Anita would have fought.
The old Anita would have broken boundaries.
But this Anita was choosing dignity.
The emergency doors opened again.
The doctor stepped out once more.
His face looked even more serious than before.
Daniel felt his pulse hammering in his ears.
“We need to speak with the father,” the doctor said firmly.
Daniel froze.
“I’m the father,” he replied.
“Please come with me.”
Anita felt something twist painfully in her chest.
But she stood still.
Strong.
Daniel followed the doctor into the office.
The door closed.
Inside the office, the atmosphere felt heavy.
The doctor sat down and folded his hands.
“Mr. Daniel, I will speak plainly.”
Daniel nodded nervously.
“Your fiancée experienced severe postpartum hemorrhaging.”
Daniel’s face drained of color.
“Is she going to die?” he whispered.
“We are doing everything possible to stabilize her,” the doctor replied. “But that is not the only issue.”
Daniel’s heart skipped.
“The baby.”
“The baby is stable for now,” the doctor said. “But there are inconsistencies.”
“Inconsistencies?”
The doctor opened a file.
“Based on the baby’s weight, lung development, and reflex responses… she does not appear to be thirty-two weeks.”
Daniel felt his throat close.
“What do you mean?”
“She appears closer to thirty-six or thirty-seven weeks.”
Silence.
That difference wasn’t small.
It was nearly a month.
Daniel’s mind began calculating without permission.
Thirty-six weeks.
Thirty-seven weeks.
That would mean…
“No,” he said immediately. “That’s impossible.”
The doctor looked at him calmly.
“I am not accusing anyone of anything. I am simply stating medical observations. If the timeline is inaccurate, it may affect treatment decisions.”
Daniel’s thoughts spiraled.
If the baby was further along than Ella claimed…
Then the conception date would change.
And if the conception date changed…
His chest tightened painfully.
He remembered something.
A night he had confronted Ella.
A night she had been defensive.
A night she had refused to answer certain questions clearly.
“No,” he muttered again.
The doctor leaned forward.
“For now, focus on her survival. But we may need further clarification.”
Daniel nodded weakly.
His world felt unstable.
Outside, Anita and Mamacita waited.
When Daniel finally stepped out, he looked like someone who had just lost solid ground beneath his feet.
Anita noticed immediately.
“What did he say?” Mamacita asked.
Daniel swallowed.
“She’s bleeding heavily. They’re trying to stop it.”
Anita covered her mouth.
“And the baby?” she asked carefully.
“She’s stable.”
He didn’t mention the timeline.
He couldn’t.
Not yet.
Because even saying it aloud would make it real.
Hours passed.
Finally, the doctor came out again.
“She is stable for now,” he announced.
Relief flooded through them.
“But she will remain under observation.”
“And the baby?” Anita asked.
“In the incubator. Breathing well. Strong heartbeat.”
Mamacita lifted her hands toward the ceiling in gratitude.
Daniel leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
For now, they were alive.
For now, they had survived.
But inside him, a new storm was forming.
A storm of doubt.
A storm of truth.
A storm that might destroy everything.
As he opened his eyes again, he caught Anita looking at him.
Not with longing.
Not with jealousy.
But with quiet strength.
And for the first time that night, Daniel realized something terrifying:
The woman he had once let go was growing stronger without him.
And the woman he had chosen might be hiding something from him.
The emergency ward doors opened once more.
A nurse stepped out.
“The father can see the baby now.”
Daniel hesitated.
Then he walked forward.
Each step heavier than the last.
Because when he looks into that child’s eyes…
He might be searching for something more than love.
He might be searching for answers.
And sometimes…
The truth arrives in the middle of joy.
And sometimes…
It shatters everything.
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