The hospital lights were too bright. They bled into Elena's vision like knives, searing her already fogged mind. Sweat soaked her gown, plastering it against her trembling body. Her hands gripped the sides of the hospital bed, knuckles bone-white as her cries tore through the sterile room.
"Push, Elena! Push!" the doctor urged, his voice firm but urgent.
She tried. God, she tried. Her body convulsed, each contraction ripping her apart, but she was so weak. The hours of stress, the chaos, the smoke in her lungs from the battlefield they had drained her. She could barely hear herself scream anymore.
Valerie stood at her side, clutching her hand so tightly their bones might break together. Sweat dripped down Valerie's temple, but she didn't loosen her grip. She wasn't going to let Elena go through this alone. Not her. Not now.
"You've got this, Elena," Valerie whispered, even though she wasn't sure. Her voice cracked anyway. "Just one more. One more."
