Chapter 5

Emma's POV

Sophia's voice cut through the silence.

"Ryan!" She came running toward us, "Oh my God, Ryan! Your face!"

I watched in disgusted amazement as she reached him, her hands immediately flying to his cheek where a red mark was already forming. She touched his face like he was made of glass, her fingers trembling.

"How could you do this to him?" She turned to me, her eyes wide with shock and hurt. "Emma, I know you don't like me, but Ryan is just trying to help a patient. Why would you hurt someone who's only trying to do good?"

Patient. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. She's still playing the innocent patient card even now.

"A patient," I repeated, my voice flat. "Is that what we're calling it?"

Sophia's lower lip trembled. "I have a serious heart condition. Ryan is the only doctor who's ever really cared about helping me get better. And you... you hate me for being sick."

The way she said it, with such practiced vulnerability, made my stomach churn. But then I felt something else, a sharp, cramping pain low in my abdomen that made me double over slightly.

The baby.

Dr. Martinez's words echoed in my head: avoid stress. Here I was, in the middle of the most stressful situation of my life, and I could feel my body reacting badly to it.

"I need to go," I said, pressing a hand to my stomach.

But as I turned to leave, Sophia stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Emma, you can't just walk away from this!" Her voice carried that same whining tone I'd heard so many times through Ryan's phone. "We need to talk about this like adults. I never asked for any of this to happen."

Never asked for any of this to happen. I stared at her, this woman who'd been systematically destroying my marriage for three years.

"Get out of my way," I said, trying to step around her.

She grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my skin. "No! You need to listen to me! You need to understand that I'm not the villain here!"

"Let go of me!" I jerked my arm away from her.

Sophia stumbled backward, her arms windmilling dramatically. "Ah!" she cried out, though she was nowhere near actually falling.

Without thinking, I reached out to steady her. It was pure instinct, the same instinct that had made me care for foster siblings who would later steal from me, the same instinct that had made me forgive Ryan ninety-eight times before.

But before I could reach her, Ryan came charging toward us like a linebacker.

"Sophia!" he shouted.

He slammed into me with such force that I went flying backward, my feet tangling as I tried to catch my balance. I hit the ground hard.

Stars exploded across my vision. The world tilted sideways, and I could taste blood in my mouth from where I'd bitten my tongue. The pain in my abdomen flared white-hot, like someone was twisting a knife in my gut.

Through the ringing in my ears, I could hear Ryan's voice, frantic and concerned.

"Sophia! Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Is your heart racing?"

I tried to sit up, but everything was spinning. My baby. Oh God, my baby.

"I'm fine," I heard Sophia say, her voice shaky but relieved. "I think I'm okay. But my chest feels tight..."

"Let me check." Ryan's voice was so tender, so caring. "Can you breathe normally? Any chest pain?"

I finally managed to push myself up on my elbows, the world still tilting dangerously. A small crowd had gathered around us, people pointing and whispering. Some had their phones out, probably recording the whole humiliating scene.

Ryan was kneeling beside Sophia, his hands on her shoulders, checking her over with the same gentle care he used to show me when I was sick. His back was turned to me completely, as if I didn't exist.

I struggled to my feet, my legs shaky and weak. The pain in my stomach was getting worse, not better.

"Ryan," I called out, my voice hoarse.

He didn't turn around.

"Ryan!" I said louder.

This time he glanced over his shoulder, irritation flashing across his face. "Emma, how could you push a heart patient? Do you have any idea how dangerous that could have been for her?"

"I didn't push her," I said. "I tried to help her."

"That's not what I saw." His tone was cold, dismissive. "You were angry and you took it out on someone who's vulnerable."

Vulnerable. I looked at Sophia, who was still clinging to Ryan's arm, her face the picture of wounded innocence.

The cramping in my abdomen intensified, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. This is bad. This is really bad.

"Ryan," I said, my voice cracking with desperation. "I need to tell you something. I went to the doctor today, and—"

"Not now, Emma." He was helping Sophia to her feet, his arm around her waist. "Can't you see she's shaken up?"

"I'm pregnant," I blurted out.

Ryan froze, his hands still on Sophia's arms. For a moment, hope fluttered in my chest.

But then Sophia made a small whimpering sound.

"Ryan," she whispered, her hand pressed to her chest. "I can't... I can't breathe properly. My heart is racing."

And just like that, Ryan's attention snapped back to her.

"We need to get you to a hospital," he said, his voice full of urgency. "This could be a cardiac episode triggered by the stress."

"Ryan, did you hear me?" I asked, desperation creeping into my voice. "I said I'm pregnant. And I'm in pain. I think something might be wrong."

He was already guiding Sophia toward the parking area, his arm supporting her weight. "Emma, can you drive yourself home? I need to get Sophia medical attention immediately."

"Ryan, please," I called after them. "My stomach hurts really bad. I'm scared about the baby."

For a second, Ryan paused. He looked back at me, and I saw a flicker of something, guilt, maybe, or concern. But then Sophia stumbled against him, making that soft whimpering sound again, and whatever hesitation he'd felt disappeared.

"I'll call you later," he said, not even meeting my eyes. "Make sure you're okay."

And then he was gone, half-carrying Sophia toward the parking lot, leaving me standing alone on the boardwalk surrounded by strangers with their phones out.

I watched my husband disappear into the crowd, supporting another woman, choosing her over me and our unborn child. The ninety-ninth time he'd put Sophia first.

The ninety-ninth time.

The pain in my abdomen was getting unbearable now, sharp and constant. I stumbled to a nearby bench and sat down heavily, my hands shaking as I pulled out my phone.

I need help. I need an ambulance.

The 911 operator's voice was calm and professional. "911, what's your emergency?"

"I'm pregnant," I said, my voice breaking. "About six weeks. I'm having severe abdominal pain and I fell. I'm at Pacific Wheel..."

The world started to go gray around the edges.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you still there?"

I tried to answer, but the words wouldn't come. My phone slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the boardwalk.