He walked away.
I disappeared from his life.
Now I was on his operating table, unconscious, bleeding to death, with two babies whose hearts were slowing by the second.
“Doctor?” the scrub nurse called.
Ethan blinked hard, forcing himself back to the present.
“Prep now,” he ordered, his voice turning cold and steady. “We’re losing both fetal heart rates.”
The room exploded into motion again, but I never heard it.
Somewhere beyond the darkness, Ethan stared at me through his surgical mask, and one terrifying thought hit him hard enough to steal his breath.
Could those twins be mine?
His jaw tightened as he held out his hand.
“Scalpel.”
The scalpel touched Ethan’s gloved palm.
For one fraction of a second, he didn’t close his fingers around it.
“Hannah.”
Her name still echoed inside him like something forbidden.
Then the fetal monitor screamed again.
One heartbeat dropped.
