Will labor go wrong?

Will I be a good mother?

Will we survive this?

In that heightened state of existence, the phrase “it’s not a big deal” does not defuse a situation.

It ignites it.

It translates instantly into the terrifying confirmation that it is, in fact, an incredibly big deal.

Erin crossed her arms over her stomach, a deeply protective, maternal gesture, and looked at the man she had loved for years.

She looked at the lines around his eyes, the set of his jaw, trying to read the micro-expressions she knew better than her own face.

“What are you hiding from me?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, not from anger, but from a sudden, overwhelming wave of vulnerability.

Ben dragged a hand through his dark hair, gripping the strands at the back of his neck.

It was his ultimate tell.

He only ever did that when he was utterly cornered, when he was desperately trying to calculate the exact right sequence of words to avoid a catastrophe.

“I wasn’t hiding anything, Erin.

Come on.

Let’s just go lay down.”

“You literally shoved it into my bag the second you thought the coast was clear,” she countered, her voice rising now, the exhaustion evaporating into sharp, focused clarity.

“I stood right there and watched you press your hand over the zipper like you were burying a secret.

Do not tell me you weren’t hiding it.”

Ben closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping.

The fight seemed to instantly drain out of him, leaving him looking incredibly tired, incredibly small.

He let out a long, shaky breath.

“I just didn’t want to tell you yet.”

Those eight words were a mistake.

They were worse than the denial.

Didn’t want to tell you yet.

The phrase echoed in the quiet room, a terrifying omen of delayed devastation.

Human panic is a spectacular, horrific thing.

In the span of three seconds, Erin’s mind bypassed reason entirely and spiraled into the darkest, most catastrophic corners of her imagination.

Her chest tightened so fiercely she thought she might be having a contraction.

What is it? her mind screamed.

Medical results from my last blood panel?

Did my doctor call him instead of me?

Are we in financial trouble?

Did the mortgage not clear?

Did something happen to my mother?

Did he get a job offer across the country?

Has he changed his mind about all of this?

She hated how fast it happened.

She hated how quickly the pure, radiant joy of their impending parenthood could be eclipsed by the cold, suffocating shadow of the unknown.

She hated how fear could instantly dress itself up as absolute certainty.

She stepped further into the room, closing the distance between them.

When she spoke again, all the heat was gone from her voice, replaced by a hollow, fragile pleading.