Epilogue

Julie

The pain started several hours ago. At first, it was manageable—a dull ache radiating through my lower abdomen. It felt like my body was whispering its warnings. But now, hours later, it’s no whisper. It’s a full-blown scream. Sharp, relentless waves of pain grip me, tightening like a vice around my insides. I’ve been timing the contractions, because the last time this happened, Dr. Casey Patel had sent me home with enough instructions on how to detect real labor.

If this isn’t labor, then God help me, because it feels like this baby is about to crawl up my spine and burst out of my chest.

I clutch the bannister with one hand and my lower abdomen with the other, pausing halfway down the stairs to catch my breath. Every step feels like a test of endurance, like I’m descending a mountain instead of my own staircase.

“Paula!” I shout, hoping the cook will come running.

But it isn’t Paula who appears. Instead, Javier rolls into view a