“Our son?” I asked.
“His heart rate is strong,” Dr. Patel said. “Your wife was dehydrated, severely fatigued, and experiencing preterm contractions. We’ve given her fluids and medication. At the moment, we don’t believe she is in active labor.”
My knees nearly gave way.
“At the moment?”
“We want to keep her overnight. Stress can have serious physical consequences this late in pregnancy.”
Dr. Patel glanced at Emily’s arm.
For the first time, I noticed four dark marks above her elbow.
Finger-shaped bruises.
“Where did those come from?” I asked.
Emily pulled the blanket higher.
The doctor looked between us. “Would you like a few minutes alone?”
“Yes,” Emily whispered.
After the doctor left, I sat beside the bed.
“Who grabbed you?”
She stared at the ceiling.
“Emily.”
“Brittany.”
The name struck me harder than a fist.
“Tonight?”
Emily nodded. “I tried to stop her from going into our bedroom.”
