When Cameron Finally Panicked
Another contraction crashed through me.
I gripped the stainless-steel bed rail with everything I had left.
CRACK.
The sound echoed across the room.
Silence followed.
Every pair of eyes turned toward me.
The rail had snapped in my hands.
My palm was injured, and the nurses stared in stunned disbelief.
For two long seconds, even Cameron looked shaken.
I searched his face, praying—just once—that he would finally see me.
That he would realize this had gone too far.
Instead, his expression hardened.
“If you put that much effort into pushing instead of making a spectacle,” he said coldly, “our son would already be here.”
Then he stepped closer.
Moments later, a tiny, fragile cry finally filled the room.
“It’s… a boy,” one nurse whispered.
Relief flooded me for exactly one heartbeat.
Then her face turned white.
“Dr. Bennett…”
The monitor began screaming.
“Her blood pressure is crashing…”
The room exploded into motion.
And I lay there staring at my husband’s frozen face as he finally realized something was terribly, irreversibly wrong.
