Ryan stood nearby, confused and quiet now. I reached for my phone with shaking hands to call Daniel. I needed him. I needed someone to take this seriously.

Before the call could connect, a crushing pressure spread through my abdomen. I dropped the phone and doubled over, gasping for air. My body felt like it was no longer under my control.

“I can’t move,” I whispered. “Please… call an ambulance.”

Margaret stood up slowly, irritation written all over her face. “Emily, stop this. You’re scaring the child.”

Linda crossed her arms. “You probably just need to lie down.”

Another contraction hit, and this time I screamed. My legs shook violently. My vision blurred, and fear for my baby overwhelmed me. I felt dizzy, nauseous, and helpless.

That’s when Mrs. Thompson, our neighbor, rushed in after hearing my cries through the open window. The moment she saw me, her face went pale.

“Oh my God,” she said sharply. “She needs emergency help. Why hasn’t anyone called?”

Without waiting for an answer, she pulled out her phone and dialed 911.

Sirens arrived within minutes. Paramedics carefully placed me on a stretcher and asked what had happened. When I explained about the fall and the sudden pain, their expressions turned serious.

As they wheeled me outside, Daniel came running up the driveway, his face drained of color.

“Emily, what happened?” he asked, grabbing my hand.

“Ryan fell… it was an acc:ident,” I said weakly. “But they didn’t help. They didn’t take it seriously.”

Daniel turned toward his mother and sister, his jaw tight, eyes burning with anger.

At the hospital, doctors confirmed I had developed a serious complication and needed immediate intervention. I was rushed into emergency care. Hours later, after intense medical treatment, our baby girl Sophie was born—small, fragile, but alive.

Daniel stayed by my side the entire time. When the doctors finally left, he spoke quietly but firmly.

“What happened today should never have been ignored.”

The days that followed were heavy. Sophie remained under observation, and I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt that moment again—the fall, the pain, the dismissal.