The hospital room is too bright, sterile white walls reflecting the overhead lights in a way that makes my eyes hurt, and I'm sitting on the examination table in a thin gown that doesn't quite close all the way while Dr. Xi presses carefully on my abdomen, his expression professional and focused.
Bael is standing against the wall, arms crossed, watching everything with that controlled mask he wears when he's hiding what he's actually feeling.
"Does this hurt?" Dr. Xi asks, applying gentle pressure to the left side of my stomach.
"A little," I admit.
He nods, making notes on his tablet, then does the same thing on the right side before stepping back.
"The baby is fine," he says, and I feel tension I didn't realize I was holding release all at once. "Heartbeat is strong, development is progressing normally, no signs of distress."
Thank god.
