The drive to the hospital felt surreal.
It was two-thirty in the morning on October 3th, which was Aria's proposed official due date, though technically ten hours past midnight made it October 4th proper. The city was quiet, and the streets was mostly empty except for the occasional taxi or late-night delivery truck. Traffic lights blinked yellow at deserted intersections.
Aria sat in the passenger seat, gripping the door handle with one hand and Damien's hand with the other, breathing through contractions that came with relentless regularity now.
"Contraction," she announced, her voice tight with pain as another wave hit.
Damien glanced at his phone where the contraction timer app was still running. "Four minutes and forty-five seconds since the last one. They're still getting closer.
