Chapter 19
Hadley
The cramping started around noon.
Not gradual. Not subtle. It hit like something inside me twisted wrong, sharp and deep, low in my belly, sudden enough that the glass slipped in my hand and clinked hard against the sink.
I froze, breath catching halfway up my throat.
For a second I waited for it to fade. For it to be one of those pregnancy aches the apps kept telling me were normal.
Then it hit again.
Harder.
A hot, pulling pain that wrapped around my abdomen and shot down toward my pelvis. I gasped, folding over the counter, one hand gripping the edge, the other flying to my bump like instinct, like maybe I could hold everything in place if I pressed hard enough.
“N-no… no, no…”
Nineteen weeks. Almost five months.
I’d just started getting used to the baby moving. Little butterfly flutters at first. Then actual kicks, tiny, stubborn reminders that someone was in there, growing, alive, depending on me to keep it safe.
This didn’t feel like movement.
This felt like something was going wrong.
The pain eased just enough for me to stand upright again, but a wave of dizziness rolled through me. My palms were already damp. My heart started pounding too fast, too loud, like my body had skipped straight past concern into full panic.
I hurried to the bathroom; one hand braced on the wall as another cramp tightened through my lower stomach. I barely made it to the toilet before I saw it.
Light pink.
Not bright red. Not heavy.
But enough.
Enough to make the air leave my lungs in a broken, shaking exhale.
“No… please…”
My hands trembled as I grabbed toilet paper again, checking, hoping maybe I imagined it. Another faint smear of pink stared back at me like proof.
My pulse roared in my ears.
I washed my hands too fast, water splashing everywhere, then stumbled back toward the kitchen counter where I’d left my phone. My fingers felt clumsy, numb, like they weren’t attached to me.
I called Cal.
It rang once.
Twice.
Voicemail.
My chest tightened so sharply it almost felt like another cramp.
“Cal, please pick up…” I whispered to the ringing that wasn’t there anymore.
I texted instead.
Need to go to ER. Bleeding a little. Cramping bad.
I stared at the screen so hard my vision blurred. Waiting for the typing bubbles. Waiting for anything.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Nothing.
The silence felt loud. Crushing. Like the whole house was holding its breath with me.
Eli was in the living room, headphones on, tablet balanced on his knees, some brightly colored train cartoon flashing across the screen. His feet kicked lightly against the couch cushions, completely unaware that my world was tipping sideways five rooms away.
I didn’t want him to see my face like this.
I didn’t want him to see fear he couldn’t understand.
I swallowed hard and scrolled to another contact.
Kei.
He answered before the second ring fully finished.
“Hadley?”
His voice was alert immediately. Not casual. Not distracted. Present.
“I’m bleeding,” I said, and the words came out thinner than I meant them to. “Cramping. I… I think something’s wrong. I need to go to the hospital.”
A pause, not hesitation. Processing.
“Where are you right now?”
“Kitchen. Eli’s here. He doesn’t know. I....” My voice cracked. “I’m scared.”
“I’m ten minutes out,” he said instantly. “Stay where you are. Don’t walk around unless you have to. Sit down if another cramp hits. Slow breaths, okay? I’m coming.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“I’ve got you,” he added quietly before hanging up.
I slid down the cabinets before I even realized my knees were giving out. The tile floor was cold through my leggings. My back pressed against the wood as another cramp rolled through me, not as sharp this time, but deeper, lingering.
My hand moved to my bump again, rubbing small circles over the fabric of my shirt.
“Please be okay,” I whispered. “Please be okay. Please be okay.”
I kept saying it like if I stopped, something terrible would happen.
Footsteps padded into the kitchen.
I looked up and saw Eli standing there, headphones hanging crooked around his neck, tablet forgotten on the counter behind him. His wide eyes bounced between my face and the way I was curled slightly forward.
“Hadley? What’s wrong?”
I forced my mouth into something that resembled a smile. It felt fragile. Fake. “Nothing, bud. Just… stomach hurt. Kei’s coming to take us to the doctor.”
His eyebrows pulled together.
“Is the baby dying?”
The question punched straight through my chest. My throat tightened so fast it burned. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to shake my head.
“No. No, we’re just checking. Everything’s fine.”
He studied me with that unnervingly perceptive little-kid stare.
“You’re scared,” he said softly. “I can tell.”
My composure cracked at the edges. I reached toward him. He came without hesitation, sitting beside me on the floor, pressing his shoulder into mine like he was trying to anchor me.
“I’m okay,” I murmured, though my hand never left my stomach.
He didn’t argue. He just stayed there, small fingers gripping mine tighter than usual.
The front door burst open less than ten minutes later.
“Hadley?”
Kei’s voice carried through the hallway, tight with urgency.
“In the kitchen,” I called, though it came out weak.
He rounded the corner fast, hoodie half-zipped, keys still clutched in his hand, hair wind-tossed like he’d run here. His eyes swept over me in one sharp scan, taking in my position on the floor, my pale face, Eli glued to my side.
His jaw flexed.
“Okay,” he said calmly, crouching in front of me. “Can you stand?”
“I think so.”
Another cramp flickered through me as I tried to push myself up. I winced, knees wobbling.
Kei didn’t hesitate. One arm slid behind my back, the other under my knees.
“I’ve got you,” he said quietly as he lifted me like I weighed nothing.
I gasped in surprise, grabbing his hoodie instinctively. “Kei, I can walk....”
“I know,” he replied evenly, already moving toward the door. “But you don’t have to right now.”
Eli scrambled after us, clutching his backpack Kei had somehow grabbed on the way through the living room.
The ocean air hit my face as he carried me down the steps toward the car. His grip stayed steady. Controlled. The complete opposite of the chaos thrashing inside my chest.
He eased me into the backseat carefully, adjusting the seatbelt across my lap so it didn’t press my stomach too tightly.
“Lean back,” he instructed gently.
I nodded, hands trembling as I followed.
Eli climbed in beside me without being told, pressing against my side. Kei shut the door, rounded the car, and slid into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life immediately.
The drive blurred together in streaks of highway lights and ocean horizon. Kei drove fast, but smooth — no jerking stops, no sharp turns. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror every few seconds, checking on me without making it obvious.
“Pain level?” he asked quietly at one point.
“Seven… maybe eight when it spikes.”
“Bleeding getting heavier?”
“I… I don’t think so. I haven’t checked again.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “Just breathe. We’re almost there.”
I pressed my palm to my bump, whispering to the baby under my breath the entire drive. Eli held my other hand, squeezing once every few minutes like he thought I might float away if he let go.
.....
The ER staff moved quickly once they heard pregnant and bleeding in the same sentence. Everything became fluorescent lights, paperwork shoved into my shaking hands, nurses guiding me toward an ultrasound room.
Kei stayed behind with Eli in the waiting area.
Through the thin door, I could hear him talking softly.
“…okay, but did you know the fastest train in Japan runs over two hundred miles an hour?”
Eli’s small voice responded, hesitant at first, then slowly more engaged. Kei kept the conversation going, calm and steady, like he was building a distraction brick by brick.
Tears slipped down my temples as I lay on the exam table.
The gel was cold when the technician spread it across my stomach. The wand pressed down, moving slowly, methodically. I held my breath so long my lungs burned.
Then....
That sound.
Rapid. Strong. Unmistakable.
Heartbeat.
The relief hit like a physical blow. My chest caved inward as sobs broke free before I could stop them.
“Everything looks good,” the doctor said gently, adjusting the screen.
“Heartbeat is strong. Measurements look appropriate for gestational age. This is most likely round ligament pain, possibly worsened by stress. Spotting can happen, but we’ll monitor you closely.
You need rest. No heavy lifting. Minimal stress if possible. ”
Minimal stress.
I almost laughed at that.
Instead, I nodded through tears.
....
By the time Kei drove us home, exhaustion had settled deep in my bones. Eli fell asleep halfway there, his head sliding onto my shoulder, small breaths warm against my neck.
Kei carried him inside first, then came back for me, offering his arm even though I could technically walk now.
I didn’t argue.
Cal showed up hours later.
I was curled on the couch with a blanket over my lap, lights dimmed, TV playing silently just for background noise. The house smelled like salt air and leftover coffee. Eli was upstairs asleep.
The front door opened and closed casually, like nothing about today had been urgent or terrifying or life-altering.
Cal walked in wearing sunglasses and a loose hoodie, pushing his hair back as he stepped into the living room.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I stared at him.
“You didn’t answer,” I said quietly.
He tossed his keys onto the table. “My phone died.”
“You were tagged in videos at rehearsal an hour after I called.”
His jaw tightened slightly. “I charged it later.”
I stood slowly, blanket sliding off my legs. “I texted you that I was bleeding. Cramping. That I needed the ER.”
“You’re standing here,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward me. “So clearly you handled it.”
“I could’ve lost the baby, Cal.”
His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “But you didn’t.”
The words landed like ice water.
“I was terrified,” I whispered. “I was on the kitchen floor shaking while Eli asked me if the baby was dying. I called you because you’re supposed to be my partner. The father of this child.”
He rubbed his jaw, eyes flicking toward the staircase like he was checking if Eli might hear. “You’re blowing it out of proportion.”
“Out of proportion?” My voice cracked. “There was blood.”
“And the doctor said everything’s fine, right?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?” he snapped, finally sounding irritated. “You want me to panic every time something minor happens?”
“Minor?” I laughed hollowly. “You weren’t there. You didn’t hear the silence in that ultrasound room before the heartbeat. You didn’t feel what that was like.”
He crossed his arms. “Life doesn’t stop because you get scared, Hadley. We have deadlines. Tour rehearsals. Real responsibilities.”
“Our baby is a real responsibility.”
“And I’m providing for it, aren’t I?”
“I don’t need money right now,” I said, stepping closer. “I needed you.”
He held my gaze, expression flattening.
“I showed up,” he said.
“No,” I replied softly. “You didn’t. Kei did.”
A bitter laugh slipped out of him. “Of course he did. Kei’s always lurking around waiting to play savior.”
“He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask questions. He just came.”
“Good for him,” Cal muttered.
“I’m suffocating here,” I admitted, voice shaking. “The girls. Syd constantly watching me like I’m something she stepped in. The noise. The tension. I can’t breathe in this house. I can’t sleep. I’m scared the baby feels all of it. I’m scared Eli does too.”
Cal stared at me for a long moment. Then gestured toward the front door.
“Then leave. Door’s there.”
The words hung between us like something sharp and final.
“I have nowhere to go,” I whispered.
He turned away, running a hand through his hair. “Not my problem.”
The finality in his tone hollowed something out inside my chest.
He walked down the hallway without another word.
Didn’t look back.
....
Kei came over later that night after Eli was asleep.
He found me on the patio wrapped in a cardigan, knees pulled to my chest, the ocean stretching out black and endless under the stars. My face was wet but silent, the kind of crying that didn’t make noise anymore because I was too tired.
He lowered himself into the chair beside me, elbows resting on his knees.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
I shook my head.
“I thought the baby would fix him,” I admitted. “I thought maybe it would make him… softer. More present. It didn’t. It made him colder.”
Kei nodded slowly, eyes on the waves. “People don’t change because they have to. They change because they want to. And Cal… doesn’t want to yet.”
The honesty stung, but it felt steadier than false hope.
“What do I do?” I asked.
“Survive,” he said simply. “One day at a time. But start thinking about your exit. Even if it’s just saving money. Making connections. You’re not trapped forever.”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“You don’t have to know yet,” he said. “You just have to believe there’s a way out when you’re ready to take it.”
He didn’t promise rescue. Didn’t offer grand speeches. He just sat beside me, quiet and solid, like a wall I could lean against without it collapsing.
Later that night, lying in bed with one hand resting over my bump, I stared at the ceiling long after exhaustion should have taken me.
A thought kept repeating itself in the back of my mind.
I have to get us out.
Before this place breaks Eli.
Before it breaks me.
Before it breaks you.
I didn’t have a plan.
Not yet.
Just something small and fragile forming beneath the fear.
Resolve.
Shaky.
Uncertain.
But alive.