My Husband Asked For A Hall Pass On My Delivery Date Chapter 05
The Voicemail
I’d just had a fever shot. The IV needle was still taped to the back of my hand.
But the second I heard those words, my head went blank.
I ripped the needle out and stumbled toward the door.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?” The nurse caught me before I collapsed, grabbing my arm to hold me upright.
Every word I forced out tore at the incision. “My baby. He’s in there!”
Outside the emergency room, the sealed door stared back at me like the mouth of something that swallows and never returns.
Another critical condition notice. Another pen in my shaking hand.
“We need to put him on a high-frequency ventilator immediately.”
“His platelet count is dangerously low. He needs a transfusion.”
“The infection is severe. We can’t rule out multi-organ failure.”
Every word the doctor said was a red-hot nail hammered into bone.
I signed. The letters came out jagged and broken, barely legible.
I pulled out my phone. Recorded one last voicemail for Ethan.
“Andy can’t hold on much longer.” My voice cracked. There was a rawness in it, a smallness I didn’t even recognize as mine. “Ethan, I’m begging you. Please come back.”
I hugged the cold phone to my chest and slid down the wall until I hit the floor.
Not a single tear ran down.
It turns out there’s a level of pain where the body just stops. Goes numb. Even the hatred has to wait its turn, because every last thread of consciousness is fixed on that door, waiting for it to open, waiting for someone to walk out and tell me something.
…
Six more hours crawled by.
Hour twenty-two.
I was still outside the emergency room. A statue with no soul left in it.
The phone finally vibrated in my hand. The name on the screen was the one I’d dialed a hundred times.
Ethan Hale.
He finally remembered. He had a wife and a newborn son.
I picked up instantly, the words already rushing to my mouth. Our baby was being resuscitated. He might not make it. His father needed to be here.
Before I could say a single word, Sienna’s bright laugh came through the speaker first.
“Ethan, look! The stars are out! They’re so beautiful!”
That laugh was a needle puncturing the last thin membrane of hope I had left.
I took a breath. Pushed the sob back down my throat. Forced my voice as steady as I could make it.
“Our baby is dying. They’re trying to save him right now. Come back. Now.”
Silence on the other end.
A few seconds. Then Ethan’s voice, lowered, like he’d stepped away to somewhere quieter. “There are doctors in the hospital. Don’t scare yourself.”
“I just woke up from a C-section. The incision is bleeding. My fever won’t break.” I said calmly. “Our baby went straight to the NICU the second he was born. I’ve signed two critical condition notices. Alone.”
I stated every fact, one by one. “Ethan, this is our child.”
His breathing went ragged. He sounded lost.
But after a few seconds, he said, “I’m up in the mountains. The signal’s bad. Even if I left now, it’d take time for me to go back. Let the nurses handle things for now. I’ll figure something out tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, first thing.”
“Am I holding you up, Ethan?” Sienna’s voice drifted in from the background, laced with perfectly measured hurt. “Maybe we should just call off the whole thing. I don’t want to put you in a difficult position.”
Ethan’s tone shifted immediately. Soft. Reassuring. Directed at her. “No, don’t think like that.”
Those five words landed on my face like a slap.
I couldn’t hold it back anymore.
My voice came out sharp, almost a blade. “Ethan. Sienna and I, who exactly is your wife?”
His voice snapped with irritation. “Can you just stop? I made a promise. I said I’d go off the grid, and I’m already breaking that promise by calling you. I owe Sienna that much. I’ll deal with everything when I get back.”
The line went dead.
The screen went dark.
I saw my own face staring back at me. White as paper. White as the fluorescent disinfection lamp that never turned off on the wall above.
…
Two hours later.
Hour twenty-four.
Sienna’s feed updated right on schedule.
Two hands cradling a single mug of hot cocoa. A sky full of stars behind them.
One of those hands, long fingers, sharp knuckles, wore a wedding band I knew by heart.
The caption read: [Hour twenty-four. Thank you for not leaving me.]
I turned my phone face-down on the cold floor.
For the first time, the name ‘Ethan Hale’ made me physically sick.
Down the hall, a baby started crying.
Loud, full-lunged, furious at the world.
The newborn in the next ward. Healthy. Alive.
My baby had never cried.
From the moment he was born until now, the only proof he was still alive was the beeping of machines.