Rebecca wanted answers immediately, but she was too exhausted to ask another question.
She had imagined holding her son within minutes of his birth, counting his tiny fingers and whispering that she would always be there for him.
Instead, she had to wait.
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The uncertainty was difficult, but she tried to remind herself that her son was receiving care and that she needed time to recover as well.
Then the door opened.
Ethan stood in the doorway.
His clothes were rumpled, and he looked as though he had spent the journey rehearsing what he intended to say. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Rebecca studied his face.
“You came,” she said quietly.
“I heard what happened and came as soon as I could.”
“After all this time?”
Ethan looked down.
“I didn’t understand how serious things had become.”
“You didn’t understand because you weren’t here,” Rebecca replied. “I called for help. I needed you, Ethan. Not tomorrow. Not when it was convenient. I needed you then.”
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He moved closer to the bed, but Rebecca turned her face away.
“I know you’re upset,” he said.
“Upset?” She looked back at him. “Our son has been born, and I don’t even know when I’ll be able to hold him. I went through all of this wondering whether you would show up.”
Ethan had no immediate answer.
For years, Rebecca had hoped that difficult moments would bring them closer together. Instead, this one had revealed just how far apart they had become.
Before either could continue, a doctor entered the room.
“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, I’d like to update you on your son.”
Both turned toward him.
