Seattle Move

29. A Piece of Me Pt.2

Amelia lay in her bed, the muted sounds of beeping machines and hushed conversations amidst her colleagues creating a dull symphony around her. The sterile smell of antiseptic was overwhelming, but she was too preoccupied with the life she was about to bring into the world.

Her heart raced as she placed a hand on her swollen belly, feeling the gentle kicks of her son, a reminder of the love and hope she clung to tightly. "It's almost time" she murmured, her voice shaky but filled with warmth. She turned her gaze towards Ryan, who sat next to her. He looked pale and anxious, a furrowed brow betraying his efforts to maintain composure.

"Hey," Ryan said, his voice strained, "How are you holding up?"

She smiled faintly, the strain of their situation creeping in. "Better now that you're here," she lied, trying to reassure him, though she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was deeply wrong. She had been in recovery since learning she was pregnant, and Ryan had been her anchor, the one who encouraged her abstinence, though unspoken shadows hung heavily over him.

The sun streamed through the blinds, casting striped shadows that danced across the pale walls and illuminated the anxious smile on Ryan's face. But beneath that smile, Amelia sensed something dark, something hidden.

"Are you ready?" he said, his voice unsteady.

She could hear the quiver beneath the surface, an echo of the battles they had fought together. "I am," she replied, gripping the side of the bed. "Are you?"

He turned his gaze away, shrugging slightly. "Just a little nervous, that's all."

As contractions began to ripple through her, Amelia focused on breathing through the pain, her mind flickering back to Addison's warnings. She had been relentless in her concern, and, with each word, Amelia had grown defensive. "You just don't understand," she had snapped during their last heated argument. "Ryan is trying. We're both trying."

But as another wave engulfed her, Amelia felt a shadow fall over her decision to stay with him. The past six months had been a rollercoaster of hope and despair, recovery and relapse. She had surrendered her own habits, fighting the craving to protect her unborn son, convinced that love could anchor Ryan in his storm of addiction.

"One step at a time," he whispered, taking her hand. She saw the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, noticed how his fingers trembled.

"Are you okay?" she asked, the concern creeping back into her voice.

"Yeah, of course. Just—thin blood pressure from the weather," he laughed nervously.

The moment passed, swallowed by the rise and fall of Amelia's contractions. Each one felt like a relentless wave crashing on the shore, her body struggling against the tide, urging her to prepare for what was to come. But as she entered the throes of labor, Ryan seemed increasingly unsettled. He stepped back, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness appeared to take hold of him.

"Ryan?" she called out, panic seeping into her tone.

Then it happened.

Before she could process the change, Ryan collapsed to the floor, his body crumpling like a ragdoll.

"Ryan!" Amelia screamed, hardly aware of the crisis erupting around her.

Nurses rushed in, working quickly to assess the situation, some bypassing Amelia's bedside to attend to the motionless figure on the floor. Panic erupted in her chest. She felt her world collapse in on itself, reality narrowing into a sharp tunnel as she strained to see past the flurry of medical personnel.