My water breaks in a rush of heat and pain, but my Mafia husband is too busy polishing my best friend’s shoes. I grab Dante’s arm. “We need to go. Now.” He’s already on one knee, brush in hand, working a white heel like it’s the most important job in the world. Bianca stands barefoot in front of the mirror, finger-combing her hair. “Give me five minutes. I can’t show up as Mia’s godmother with greasy hair. The photos will be ruined.” The contraction hits me like a truck. I press my hand flat against the wall and breathe through it. My father is already on his way. He calls ahead on video, his face white. “The doctor is waiting. You need to leave right now.” I look at Dante. “I’m already dilating. If we don’t go now, we could both die in there.” He waves me off without looking up. “Labor takes hours. You’ll just sit there and wait. Stop being dramatic.” Dramatic. My water broke and he called me dramatic. I watch him blow on the toe of Bianca’s heel, check the shine, go back for another pass. Something in me just goes quiet. I pull out my phone. Open a contact I haven’t touched in years. You said you wanted both me and the baby. I’ve got maybe thirty minutes. Get here and you’re her father. The reply comes back in seconds. ? Then: Done. On my way. The shower runs. Dante doesn’t rush her. He finds her blow dryer, sets it to warm, lays it on the counter like he’s dressing a queen. I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor. The midwife kneels beside me. Her voice is steady but her eyes are scared. “Mr. Dante. The amniotic fluid is leaking. The baby can lose oxygen at any point. You have a thirty-minute window. You need to leave now.” My brother’s wife steps forward. “She hasn’t hit her due date. This is an emergency. Even if Elena can hold on, the baby can’t.” Every person in the room is staring at Dante. He doesn’t look up. He’s lining up Bianca’s skincare bottles on the bathroom shelf. “She’s just washing her hair. It’ll be fast.” Then he glances at me. Almost gentle. “We’ll do a C-section if it comes to that. You weren’t planning to go natural anyway.” I stare at him. “Do you understand how dangerous this is right now?” “Mm.” He turns back toward the bathroom. One syllable. Done with me. I take a breath and hurl a pillow at his back. “I said we could both die. I need to leave right now. Did you hear me?” He turns around and the look on his face isn’t fear. It’s irritation. “What is your problem? You’ve been pregnant for nine months and suddenly the whole world has to stop?” “She’s washing her hair. You’re the one who said she could be Mia’s godmother. You can’t wait ten minutes?” The blow dryer cuts off. Bianca appears in the doorway, hair half-wet, head tilted. “Come on. We agreed I’d be Mia’s godmother. This is my moment too. Just let me dry off a little. I’ll be so fast.” The blow dryer roars back to life. Dante takes it out of her hands. “You’re too slow. Let me do it.” I watch my husband carefully dry another woman’s hair while mine plasters cold and damp against my neck. During my third trimester I asked him once. Just help me dry my hair. He said he was tired from work. Another contraction. Harder. The midwife checks me and goes still. “The fluid is turning yellow. That means contamination. We leave right now.” She doesn’t wait. She walks to the outlet and yanks the plug. The blow dryer dies. Bianca spins around. “Excuse me? Who does this nurse think she is?” Dante’s jaw tightens. “Elena. Don’t be difficult. It’s just a few more minutes.” He plugs it back in. I drag myself upright. The hospital calls. “It’s 10:20. Where is the patient? The OR is prepped. You must arrive before eleven. Do not wait.” I reach over and pull the plug myself. “Eleven o’clock. I will be at that hospital.”
“Fine. Fine. Happy now? You don’t have to make a scene about everything.” Dante grabs the bag and follows us out. My parents and my brother are already downstairs, pale, ready, watching the clock. My father takes one look at me and his face drops. “Why are you still here? Move.” We almost make it to the door. Bianca touches her hair and freezes. “I forgot to curl it.” She looks genuinely distressed, like this is a real problem. “Just a few more minutes. I’ll be so quick.” My mother keeps her voice careful. “Why don’t you stay and get ready? We’ll take Elena ahead. You can meet us there.” Bianca is already plugging in the curling iron. “No, I want to be there from the start. I’m the godmother. I have to be first to hold her.” She catches my eye in the mirror and smiles. “Elena won’t mind. Right?” The pain is constant now. Not waves. Just pressure, building and not letting go. “Elena minds.” My brother’s voice cuts across the room. “Get in the car or stay home.” Bianca’s hand stills on the curling iron. Her lip wobbles. “Why are you yelling at me? I’m trying. You think I wanted this to happen today?” Her voice climbs. “I didn’t even get to prep properly. I’m not the bad guy here.” My mother stops trying. She takes my arm and steers me toward the elevator. My brother and father run ahead to pull the car around. Dante walks back into the living room. “Take your time. Don’t burn yourself.” My mother turns and looks at him. Long and slow. The kind of look that doesn’t need words. I lean against the wall and breathe. Mia kicks. Hard. Desperate. Like she knows. Another contraction folds me in half. Dante comes over and pushes me back down onto the sofa. “Stop performing. I know what you’re doing. You want me to drop everything and prove you come first.” His voice drops, almost soft. “Bianca’s almost done. Five more minutes.” I let the contraction pass. “The day we were supposed to make it official — you made us wait for her. She overslept. The window closed. We are still not legally bound, Dante.” “Our wedding — she showed up hungover and made us miss the whole window.” “And today.” I look at him. “So I’m asking you one time. Do you choose me and Mia? Or do we wait for Bianca?” His jaw locks. “You’re using our baby to score points?” Bianca gasps from across the room, one hand over her mouth. “Wow, Elena. I had no idea you kept score like that.” She sets down the curling iron and picks up a makeup brush. “Honestly, I feel bad. I’ll just finish my face real quick — two minutes — and we go. Deal?” I watch her. She said just a wash. Then a dry. Then a curl. Now foundation. I know this routine. Foundation. Liner. Then she’ll want a different outfit. We’ll be here another hour. It’s 10:40. Fresh fluid soaks through the pad the midwife gave me. It’s streaked with red. I stop looking at them. I bite down on my lip. I don’t make a sound. “Take your time,” I say quietly. “I’m done waiting.”
Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260808cHaQk31edn 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni497617”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix
Leave a Reply