The world above me felt distant, surreal—like a movie I wasn’t part of. Cold linoleum pressed against my cheek, grounding me in the moment. My heart pounded, each beat echoing like a drum in my ears.

Emily stayed frozen by the door, her tiny frame a brave barrier between me and danger. Her sparkly-laced shoes peeked out from the floor. She was fearless, standing guard.Where is she?” the doctor’s clipped voice cut through the air.

“She just delivered. She’ll be weak,” Linda replied, her tone sharp and satisfying. “Check the bathroom.”

The doctor’s shoes shuffled away, and I held my breath. Even a whisper could betray my hiding spot. My mind scrambled for a plan, but exhaustion clouded my thoughts.Then Emily’s soft voice intervened. “Mom went to see the baby. She’ll be back soon.”

Linda snapped, “Impossible. She wouldn’t leave without telling me.”

The doctor paused. “We’ll wait. She should return shortly if she went to see the baby.”

Waiting for Rescue
From under the bed, I couldn’t see them, but tension radiated through the room. Emily stayed firm by the door, blocking any view of my shoes. Each second stretched endlessly. Feet shuffled. Sighs and murmurs filled the air. My mind raced—how could I protect Emily and my newborn?

Then Mark’s voice came from the hallway. Relief surged through me, mingled with anxiety. He needed to understand the danger.

The door opened. Mark’s shoes crossed the threshold. “What’s going on?” he asked, confusion in his tone.

Linda replied smoothly, “We were discussing post-delivery care, but she seems to have gone to see the baby.”

Mark stepped closer to the bed. I prayed silently: see me. Understand.

Emily faltered. “She went to see the baby.”

Mark crouched, eyes locking with mine. Shock flickered, then understanding. He straightened and faced the others.

“I’ll wait here,” he said firmly. “Check the nursery.”

The doctor hesitated. Linda’s frustration simmered. But Mark’s authority left no room for argument. They left.