𝒞𝒶𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓅𝒽𝒾𝒸 ℒ𝑜𝓋𝑒 •BILLY HARGROVE•

CHAPTER XXVII

THE HALLWAY OUTSIDE the delivery room was in chaos. Doctors and nurses rushed back and forth, their faces tense with urgency. The faint cries of newborns from the maternity ward seemed to echo through the flickering lights, adding an eerie backdrop to the frantic activity.

Joyce stood near the door, her hands clasped tightly together, her knuckles white. She strained to hear what was happening inside the delivery room, but the sound of the machines and the muted, urgent voices made it hard to understand anything. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed, and she kept glancing at the window, hoping for any sign, any indication that things were going to be okay.

Jonathan paced anxiously next to her, his eyes darting toward the door. "What's taking so long?" he muttered, frustration and fear evident in his voice. "Why haven't they told us anything?"

Nancy, standing beside him, tried to keep her voice steady. "They're doing everything they can, Jonathan," she said, though worry was clear on her face. "We have to trust them."

Suddenly, the door to the delivery room burst open, and a nurse hurried out, her expression strained. Joyce rushed forward, grabbing the nurse's arm. "Please, tell me—how's Melanie? How's my granddaughter?" she asked, her voice breaking.

The nurse hesitated, glancing back at the delivery room before answering. "Melanie's unconscious, but stable for now. The baby... she's struggling to breathe. We've got her on oxygen, but we need to get her to the NICU right away."

Joyce's face crumpled with a mix of fear and hope. "Is she going to be okay?" she whispered.

The nurse shook her head, unable to give a definitive answer. "We're doing everything we can. But she's only 26 weeks—it's critical. We have to move fast."

As the nurse spoke, two other medical staff emerged from the delivery room, wheeling a small incubator. Inside, Melanie's tiny daughter lay swaddled, her skin almost translucent, wires and tubes surrounding her fragile body. Joyce's breath caught in her throat, and she felt tears well up in her eyes.

The nurse turned to Joyce, Jonathan, and Nancy. "We need to get the baby to the NICU immediately. You can follow us, but please, keep your distance. She's very vulnerable."

Jonathan nodded, his face pale. "Of course. Just... please, keep her safe."

They hurried down the hallway, following the medical team as they navigated through the maze of hospital corridors, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. Joyce, Jonathan, and Nancy kept a few steps behind, their eyes fixed on the tiny, fragile form inside the incubator.

As they approached the entrance to the NICU, the lights flickered overhead again, and a low humming noise seemed to vibrate through the walls. The head nurse frowned, looking up at the ceiling. "What is going on with the power today?" she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

The group arrived at the NICU doors, and a nurse opened them quickly, ushering the incubator inside. "We need to stabilise her and monitor her vitals closely," she called to the other medical staff. "Get the ventilator ready!"

Joyce stood just outside the NICU, her hand pressed against the glass window, watching as they rushed the baby inside. She could see the concern on the faces of the doctors and nurses, the urgency with which they moved. Her heart ached with every beat, her eyes never leaving her granddaughter.

Jonathan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "She's a fighter, Mom," he whispered. "Just like Melanie. She's going to make it."

Joyce nodded, though her eyes were filled with tears. "She has to," she whispered back. "She just has to..."