Chapter 9
I rode out the agonizing wave of pain, gritting my teeth until I tasted copper. When it finally subsided, I looked at him. The corporate titan was gone. The controlled man who fixed music boxes was gone. This was a man staring into the abyss of his worst nightmare: losing the people he loved, trapped in a dark box, utterly powerless.
“I need you to stay calm,” I gasped, though my own entire body was shaking violently. “The baby is coming. Fast. My body has been under extreme stress for weeks; it’s decided it’s time.”
“I don’t know how to deliver a baby, Clara!” he yelled, his voice cracking with raw, unadulterated desperation. “I build skyscrapers! I don’t know how to do this!”
“I do,” I said fiercely, grabbing his expensive lapels and pulling him close until I could feel his ragged breath on my face. “I am a doctor. You are going to be my hands. Do you hear me, Julian? You are going to listen to exactly what I say, and we are going to save our daughter. Together.”
Another contraction hit, faster and harder than the last. I screamed, sliding down the wall to sit on the hard, cold floor. The pain was blinding, a primal force demanding total submission.
Time distorted. The dark, sweltering elevator became the entire universe. Julian tore off his jacket, rolling it up to place behind my head. He stripped off his shirt, laying the clean fabric beneath me. His hands were shaking, but his eyes—illuminated by the dying battery of the phone—locked onto mine with a fierce, unwavering, terrifying focus.
“Talk to me, Clara. I’m right here,” he promised.
“When I tell you,” I panted, sweat stinging my eyes and plastering my hair to my face, “you need to catch her. She’s going to be small, Julian. So small. You have to be gentle. Check if the cord is around her neck.”
“I will. I’ve got you. I’ve got her.”
“If she doesn’t cry immediately… you have to rub her back. Hard. Clear her mouth.” The medical instructions tumbled out of me, a desperate, clinical shield against the overwhelming panic.
“I won’t let her go,” he vowed, his hands bracing my knees.
The pressure became unbearable. The urge to push was a tidal wave I couldn’t fight.
“Now!” I screamed, burying my chin into my chest and bearing down with every ounce of strength left in my shattered body.
In the cramped, dark, suffocating space of a broken elevator, surrounded by nothing but the smell of ozone and fear, I fought for the life of my child. Julian was a revelation in the dark. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away. He murmured words of courage, his voice a steady, rhythmic anchor in my storm of agony.
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“One more, Clara! One more push, my brave girl, I see her, I see her!” he cried out, tears streaming freely down his face.
With a final, guttural scream that tore my throat raw, I pushed.
