She hesitated.
I snatched it from her hand and dialed emergency services myself.
While I described Emily’s symptoms, Kayla turned down the television. Lily stood beside the couch, still holding a slice of pizza, looking less frightened than inconvenienced.
Not one of them asked whether the baby was all right.
Not one.
The paramedics arrived within nine minutes. To me, it felt like nine years.
They placed Emily on a stretcher, attached a blood-pressure cuff, and began asking questions.
“How long have you been having contractions?”
“I don’t know,” Emily whispered. “Maybe an hour.”
My head snapped toward her.
An hour.
She had been standing in that kitchen, washing my family’s dishes while contractions tightened around our unborn son.
“Any bleeding?”
“No.”
“Have you eaten today?”
Emily’s silence answered before her mouth did.
The paramedic looked at me. “When was her last meal?”
“I—I don’t know. I was at work.”
Teresa folded her arms. “There was plenty of pizza.”
Emily looked away.
“What did you eat?” I asked gently.
“A piece of toast this morning.”
My stomach dropped.
It was after ten at night.
The paramedic’s expression hardened. “She needs to be evaluated immediately.”
As they wheeled Emily toward the door, Teresa caught my sleeve.
“Ethan, before you go, you need to leave money for groceries. Your sisters are staying through the weekend.”
I slowly turned around.
The apartment went silent.
My mother released my sleeve.
For years, I had mistaken obedience for loyalty. Every time Teresa called me ungrateful, I worked harder. Every time one of my sisters made a reckless decision, I paid to fix it. Every time Emily gently suggested that they were taking advantage of me, I defended them.
Because they were family.
But as my eight-months-pregnant wife disappeared into the elevator with strangers caring more about her than the people inside our home, that word finally lost its power over me.
“Get out,” I said.
Teresa blinked. “Excuse me?”
“All four of you. Take your things and get out of my apartment.”
“You’re upset.”
“I’m awake.”
Brittany laughed nervously. “Come on, Ethan. You don’t mean that.”
“I have never meant anything more.”
My mother’s face changed. The wounded expression vanished, replaced by something colder.
“You would throw your own mother onto the street because your wife had a stomach cramp?”
“She hasn’t eaten since this morning.”
“That is not my fault.”
“You watched her clean up after you.”
“She lives here for free!”
“She is my wife. This is her home. You are the guests.”
Teresa’s lips tightened.
Then she said something strange.
Something I would not understand until hours later.
“You have no idea what that woman is trying to take from us.”
I wanted to demand an explanation, but the paramedic shouted that they were leaving.
I pointed toward the door.
