The six hours had stretched into an agonizing eternity. The cold was a constant, vicious enemy, creeping into my bones and tightening the muscles around my abdomen.
The contractions were no longer sporadic anxieties; they were structured, relentless waves of pain, each one a stark reminder of the impossibility of my situation. I sat with my back pressed against the weeping concrete, focusing solely on breathing and on the quiet movements of my twins.
The pain. It’s a vicious cycle now, a cold tightening that promises the end of this standoff is near, one way or another. Vladimir is moving. I felt it in my bones. But he has to find me before the children arrive. I will not sign. I will not break. I owe my children a stable world, and I owe Vladimir my life.
The scraping sound of the hea
