Chapter 1: The Phone in the Nurse’s Hand
“Someone blocked every call from this room.””
The nurse’s words silenced the maternity ward.
My eight-year-old son, Eli, stood beside my hospital bed, clutching his newborn sister’s pink blanket. My husband, Andre, stared at the phone in the nurse’s hand as if it were a weapon pointed directly at his heart.
And in the doorway, frozen beneath the fluorescent lights, stood Camille.
My husband’s younger sister.
The woman who had promised to stay by my side while Andre finished an important business meeting.
The woman who had insisted she would take care of everything.
The woman who, until that moment, had been holding my newborn daughter’s first photograph.
Andre turned toward me.
“Tiana, I swear to God, I never got a single call.””
My daughter slept against my chest, her tiny mouth opening and closing as she searched for milk. I should have been staring at her. I should have been counting her fingers and thanking God that she had arrived safely.
Instead, I watched my husband’s face.
Because eight hours earlier, I had begged him to come to the hospital.
And he hadn't.
My labor had started at 2:17 in the morning.
I remembered the time because the clock above our kitchen stove had been blinking since the power outage the previous week. I had been standing barefoot beside the refrigerator, one hand gripping the counter, when the first contraction seized my stomach.
“Eli, sweetheart, get your shoes.””
My son had appeared in the hallway wearing dinosaur pajamas, his hair sticking up on one side.
“Is the baby coming?””
I tried to smile.
“Yes, baby. She's coming.””
He ran to get his backpack, the one he had packed three days earlier with crayons, crackers, and a stuffed rabbit he had decided his sister would need.
While I called Andre, Eli stood beside me with his little hands folded over the backpack straps.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
Voicemail.
I called again.
Nothing.
Then I sent a text.
Andre, labor has started. Please call me. We need you.
At 2:26, another contraction forced me to lean against the wall.
At 2:31, I called him again.
At 2:38, I called Camille.
She answered immediately.
“What's wrong?”” she asked, sounding breathless.
“I'm in labor. Andre isn't answering. Can you come get us?””
“Of course,” Camille said.
“Don't worry, Tiana. I'll handle everything.””
Twenty minutes later, her silver SUV pulled into our driveway.
She came into the house wearing a cream-colored coat over black leggings, her hair perfectly curled despite the hour. She took one look at me and shook her head.
“Girl, you should have called me first.””
“I called my husband first.””
Something flickered across her face.
Then it disappeared.
“Well, he's probably asleep. You know how exhausted he's been with work.””
“He told me he'd keep his phone on.””
Camille picked up my hospital bag.
“And he will be there. I promise.””
At the hospital, nurses hurried me through the double doors while Camille parked the car. Eli held my hand until a nurse gently guided him toward a chair.
I called Andre again.
No answer.
By six in the morning, I had called him eleven times.
By eight, I had stopped counting.
My contractions were coming so close together that I could barely speak between them. A nurse named Denise adjusted the monitors around my stomach and asked whether my husband was on his way.
“He's coming,” I whispered.
I said it because I needed it to be true.
At 9:14, Eli climbed onto the chair beside my bed.
“Mom?””
“I'm here, sweetheart.””
“Dad said he'd never miss this.””
I looked at him.
Andre had spent months telling Eli that he would be the first person to hold his little sister after me. He had even bought a tiny pink cap with the words Daddy's Little Girl stitched across the front.
“He won't miss it,” I told Eli.
But my voice sounded unfamiliar.
At 10:03, Camille finally returned from the parking garage. She carried two coffees and a paper bag from the bakery downstairs.
“Any word from Andre?”” I asked.
She handed Eli a muffin.
“Not yet.””
“Can you call him?””
“I've tried.””
She didn't take out her phone.
She didn't even look at it.
Instead, she pulled a chair toward the window and began scrolling through something on her screen.
I watched her thumb move.
“Camille?””
She looked up sharply.
“What?””
“Can I borrow your phone? Mine's dying, and I need to call Andre again.””
For half a second, she looked frightened.
Then she laughed.
“Girl, relax. You're stressing yourself out, and that isn't good for the baby.””
She slipped her phone into her handbag.
That was when Denise returned to check my progress.
She glanced at the monitor, then at my face.
“Tiana, you're almost there. I need you to focus on me now, okay?””
I nodded.
Eli moved closer to the bed.
“Mom, can I tell Dad something when he gets here?””
“Of course.””
He leaned down and whispered into my ear.
“Tell him I saved the best drawing for him to show the baby.””
I kissed his forehead.
“That's beautiful, sweetheart.””
At 11:41, my daughter arrived.
One moment, I was gripping the bed rails, fighting through a pain that seemed to split the world in two.
The next, a tiny cry filled the room.
My daughter.
My beautiful little girl.
Denise laid her against my chest, and I began to cry so hard that I could barely see her face.
“She's perfect,” Denise whispered.
Eli stood beside me, his mouth hanging open.
“She's so little.””
I laughed through my tears.
“You were little once, too.””
He touched his sister's hand with one trembling finger.
“Hi, baby. I'm Eli. I'm your big brother.””
Then he looked toward the door.
“Where's Dad?””
Nobody answered.
At noon, I asked the nurse to try Andre again.
At 12:30, I asked Camille whether she had heard anything.
At 1:00, I called his office.
His assistant told me he hadn't arrived for his scheduled meeting.
That made no sense.
Andre had left home the previous evening wearing his charcoal suit, telling me he had a meeting with investors first thing in the morning. He'd promised to come straight to the hospital afterward.
At 1:37, I called his best friend, Marcus.
Marcus sounded confused.
“Wait. Andre isn't there with you?””
“No.””
“That's strange. He told me last night he had everything arranged for today.””
“What does that mean?””
“I don't know, Tiana. He said he was taking care of something before the baby came.””
Before I could ask another question, Camille snatched the hospital phone from my hand.
“She's tired, Marcus,” she said.
“We'll talk later.””
She hung up.
I stared at her.
“Why did you do that?””
“Because you're upset, and you're making everyone upset.””
“Everyone?”” I repeated.
“My husband isn't here. My son keeps asking where his father is. I'm lying in a hospital bed after giving birth, and you're worried about everyone being upset?””
Camille's cheeks reddened.
“Don't start with me, Tiana.””
“Then stop treating me like I'm the problem.””
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then Camille picked up her handbag.
“I'm going to get something to eat.””
She walked out without looking at the baby.
At 2:06, Andre finally appeared.
His suit jacket was missing. His white shirt was wrinkled, and his eyes were red as if he hadn't slept.
He stopped just inside the doorway.
His gaze moved from me to Eli, then to the newborn sleeping in my arms.
“Oh, my God,” he whispered.
Eli slid off his chair.
For one hopeful second, I thought he would run into his father's arms.
Instead, he walked slowly toward him.
“Dad?””
Andre dropped to his knees.
“Buddy. I'm here.””
Eli's lower lip trembled.
“I called you all night, Dad.””
Andre's face crumpled.
“What?””
“I called you from Mom's phone. I called you from the nurse's phone. Mom said maybe you were busy, but I kept trying.””
Andre looked at me in disbelief.
“Tiana, I never got a single call.””
My stomach tightened.
“You didn't get my messages?””
“No. Nothing. My phone was on all morning.””
“Then where were you?””
“I was at the office. I thought you were still waiting for the doctor to tell you when to come in.””
I stared at him.
“You thought I was waiting?””
His eyes filled with tears.
“I swear, Tiana. I didn't know she was coming.””
Denise had been standing near the medication cart, listening quietly.
She stepped forward.
“Mr. Carter, may I see your phone?””
Andre frowned.
“Why?””
“Because I noticed something when your wife was trying to reach you earlier.””
He handed it over.
Denise tapped the screen, examined the call history, and then looked toward the doorway.
Her face changed.
“Sir, someone blocked every call from this room.””
Andre went completely still.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
And then I followed the nurse's gaze.
Camille stood in the doorway.
Her handbag hung open at her side.
Inside it, a second phone was ringing.
Andre's phone.
The same phone Denise was holding.
Camille stared at it.
For the first time since I'd known her, she had absolutely nothing to say.
And I finally understood why she'd been so afraid when I asked to borrow her phone.
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But I still didn't know the worst part.
Why had my sister-in-law been carrying my husband's phone in the first place?
