Page 53 of It Must Be Fate

“Almost there,” the doctor calls over to us. “Then we can settle this for you,” she adds with a smile in her voice.

Six and I grin at each other. Doctor Miller obviously already knows the gender of the baby, but she’s been great at keeping the secret to herself.

The smile slides gradually off Six’s face, wiping mine off in the process. It’s a progressive transformation, but her face slowly shutters and she turns gray. Then her lips go blue.

At that very same moment, the sound of wailing pierces the air.

“Congratulations!” Dr. Miller calls. “You’re officially parents to a…”

I don’t hear the rest of her sentence because Six’s eyes roll back into her head, then close.

The hand that holds mine goes limp.

And then several machines — the very same that had comforted me only moments earlier — start howling an atrocious alarm that freezes the blood cold in my veins.

“Sixtine?” I call, remembering not to panic. I nudge her face with my hand but it turns to the side with no resistance. A cavernous, bottomless black pit opens up in my stomach. “Six?”

Don’t panic. I’ve been told not to panic.

“Six!”

Behind me, I hear the doctor curse quietly, followed by, “She’s hemorrhaging. Get another bag hooked up, asap!”

“What’s going on?” I ask, eyes wild. I start to stand but a nurse forces me back down by my shoulder.

“Sit down,” he orders. “Believe me, you don’t want to see your wife opened up like this.”

I shove his hands off. “What’s going on?” I repeat. “Why is she unconscious?”

The machines blare around us, a cacophony of terrifying sounds announcing the end of the world.

It’s a symphony I’m never, ever going to forget.

I don’t look at Six, opened up as she is on the table. No, I look at Doctor Miller and my heart hits the ground and shatters.

Because the usually cool, unperturbable doctor I’ve come to know over the past seven months is standing, her face ashen and twisted, her hands working furiously as panic inscribes itself on her features.

“She’s bleeding out,” she answers simply.

Like they’re words she’s used to saying.

Like they’re not words that rip the world out from under my feet and kill me with the ease of a bullet.

“I’m going to try and save her life,” she adds grimly.

“Save her… Save herlife?” I say dumbly. I’m confused, uncomprehending in the face of a worst-case scenario I never even considered possible. “What do you mean?” I shout, turning back towards my wife. “What do you mean ‘save her life’?”

She’s out cold and it’s not like when she’s sleeping. I would know, I watch her sometimes.

Often.

Most nights.

No, she looks… I can’t even think the words.

I grab her face and try to shake her into consciousness.

“Wake up, Six.Wake up.” She jerks in my arms, but it’s from the way I’m shaking her, not her own movements. “Please wake up. Please, please,pleasewake up, baby.”

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