I stared at the ceiling tiles, my fingers twisting my wedding band around my finger until the skin turned red.
“Is that safe?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “For them?”
Dr. Evans folded her hands flat on her desk, looking at us with a firm, authoritative expression.
“A triplet pregnancy is exceptionally high-risk,” Dr. Evans said. “Your cervix is already showing signs of shortening from the weight. If we want these babies to reach a safe gestational age, we have to make some immediate changes.”
She looked directly at Daniel, then back to me.
“I am ordering strict, immediate bed rest,” Dr. Evans said. “No cooking, no laundry, no walking up the stairs. Your only job is to stay on the sofa or in bed.”
“For how long?” Daniel asked, his voice losing its smooth warmth. “The nursery is not even painted.”
“Until they are born,” Dr. Evans said. “Which will be premature, in the best-case scenario. Helen will need full-time support at home starting today. Someone has to handle the daily household tasks and monitor her for any signs of early labor.”
