Chapter 2 - The Little Girl Who Couldn’t BreatheFive years later, Lauren Parker hated hospitals.
Not because he shouted.
Not because he confessed.
Because he looked at his phone.
She was thirty-eight weeks pregnant, barefoot on the kitchen floor, one hand gripping the counter while another contraction tightened around her stomach.
“Daniel.”
Her voice trembled.
Daniel Parker stood ten feet away in a charcoal suit, staring at the message glowing on his screen.
Lauren breathed through the pain.
“I think it’s time.”
Daniel looked up.
For one second, fear crossed his face.
Then his phone buzzed again.
Lauren saw the name.
Vanessa.
Her stomach dropped for a reason that had nothing to do with labor.
“You’re not answering that.”
Daniel locked the phone.
“It’s work.”
“Vanessa isn’t work.”
“She’s involved with the Whitmore acquisition.”
“She’s also the woman who calls my husband at two in the morning.”
Another contraction hit.
Lauren doubled over.
“Daniel.”
He reached toward her, but the phone rang.
Lauren stared at him.
“Don’t.”
He answered.
“Vanessa?”
Lauren closed her eyes.
Daniel turned toward the windows.
“What happened?”
A pause.
His expression changed.
“Where are you?”
Lauren could barely believe what she was hearing.
“Daniel, my contractions are six minutes apart.”
He held up one finger.
One finger.
As if his laboring wife were interrupting him.
Then he ended the call.
“Vanessa had an accident.”
Lauren laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“Of course she did.”
“She’s alone.”
“So am I.”
“She’s at St. Matthew’s.”
Lauren stared.
“That’s where we’re supposed to go.”
“I’ll take you.”
“And then?”
Daniel didn’t answer quickly enough.
Lauren’s eyes filled.
“You’re going to leave me there.”
“Only until I know she’s okay.”
“You promised.”
“I know.”
“You promised me that when this happened, nothing would matter more.”
“Lauren—”
“Nothing.”
His jaw tightened.
“Vanessa’s car was hit.”
“And your daughter is coming.”
They stared at each other.
Then Lauren’s water broke.
The sound was small.
The silence afterward wasn’t.
Daniel rushed forward.
“Okay. Hospital. Now.”
Twenty-seven minutes later, Lauren was being wheeled through labor and delivery while Daniel walked beside her.
She grabbed his wrist.
“Stay.”
He looked toward the elevators.
“Daniel.”
“I’ll be back before she’s born.”
“Don’t do this.”
“I’m just going downstairs.”
“Don’t leave me for her.”
His face hardened.
“You’re making this into something it isn’t.”
Lauren started crying.
“No. I think I’m finally seeing exactly what it is.”
A nurse pushed the wheelchair through double doors.
Daniel stopped.
Lauren looked over her shoulder.
She expected him to follow.
Instead, the doors closed between them.
He went to Vanessa.
Lauren gave birth seven hours later.
Alone.
Their daughter came into the world tiny, furious, and struggling to breathe.
Lauren barely had time to touch her cheek before alarms began sounding.
“What’s wrong?”
Doctors surrounded the infant.
“What’s happening?”
“Mrs. Parker, we need to take the baby to neonatal intensive care.”
“No.”
“We need to help her breathe.”
“No, give her to me.”
Lauren reached out, but the bassinet was already moving.
“Please!”
A nurse stayed behind.
Lauren gripped her hand.
“My husband.”
“We’ll call him.”
“No. He’s in the hospital.”
The nurse frowned.
Lauren laughed through her tears.
“He’s here.”
But Daniel wasn’t.
Not anymore.
By midnight, Vanessa had been discharged with bruises and a mild concussion.
Daniel drove her home.
He told himself Lauren was surrounded by doctors.
He told himself there was nothing he could do.
He told himself he would return in the morning.
At 2:13 a.m., Lauren’s daughter crashed.
At 2:41, doctors told Lauren they were doing everything possible.
At 3:06, a hospital administrator entered Lauren’s room carrying paperwork.
And at 3:18, Daniel finally answered his phone.
Lauren could hardly speak.
“The baby…”
Daniel sat upright in Vanessa’s guest room.
“What happened?”
“She stopped breathing.”
His blood went cold.
“I’m coming.”
Lauren looked through the glass wall toward the NICU.
“You should have already been here.”
“Lauren—”
The line went dead.
When Daniel arrived twenty-three minutes later, Lauren’s room was empty.
The NICU bassinet was empty too.
A nurse intercepted him.
“Mr. Parker?”
“My wife. My baby.”
Her expression became carefully neutral.
“Your wife requested privacy.”
“Where’s my daughter?”
The nurse hesitated.
And that hesitation destroyed him.
Daniel staggered backward.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
He heard nothing after that.
Not properly.
There were words.
Complications.
Respiratory failure.
Emergency intervention.
Transfer.
Documents.
But Daniel understood only one thing.
His daughter was gone.
And Lauren refused to see him.
Two days later, she disappeared from his life.
Divorce papers arrived six weeks after that.
Daniel signed them.
He never forgave himself.
But he also never learned that one exhausted administrator had handed him information about the wrong infant.
May you like
Because Lauren Parker’s daughter had not died.
And five years later, in a crowded hospital hallway, Daniel would meet the little girl whose existence would force every lie surrounding that night into the light.
Related Stories
