Something passed between them.
I noticed it.
I just didn’t understand it yet.
A nurse came in.
“We need to go.”
Daniel kissed Grace’s forehead.
She caught his shirt before he could step away.
“Danny.”
He leaned close.
Grace whispered something into his ear.
His whole body went rigid.
“What did she say?” I asked.
Daniel didn’t answer.
They wheeled her away.
The twins were delivered less than forty minutes later.
A boy and a girl.
Both tiny.
Both alive.
Grace wasn’t so lucky.
She began hemorrhaging.
One surgery became two.
Then doctors rushed in more blood.
Daniel and I sat beneath fluorescent lights while the vending machine hummed across from us.
No television.
No conversation.
Just the clock.
1:14 a.m.
1:37.
2:05.
At 2:26, a surgeon walked through the doors.