Dr. Martinez was a small woman with exhausted eyes and surgical gloves already covering her hands. She quickly took in Harry’s work boots, faded jeans, weathered face, and the frightened child in his arms. Her expression softened only slightly.
“You’re the father?”
“I am. How bad is it?”
“Severe blunt force trauma to the abdomen,” she answered. “The placenta is partially detached, meaning the baby isn’t getting enough oxygen. We need to deliver immediately.”
Harry felt Lydia’s fingers tighten around his coat.
Dr. Martinez hesitated, and when she spoke again, her voice became more measured. “The injuries are consistent with someone being kicked or punched repeatedly.”
Harry clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt.
“The baby?” he asked.
“We’ll know more after surgery. Right now, my focus is saving both of them.”
Then she disappeared through the surgical doors.
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