Panic surged through me. I turned sharply to face everyone at the table.

"Aunt, if anything happens to my daughter today, I won’t let this go! Nate, we need to get to the hospital!"

Nate, who had been lazily sitting at the other end of the table, froze at the sight of blood. Then, snapping back to reality, he bolted toward me.

He scooped up our daughter, his hands trembling.

"Hurry! Get in the car! We need to go—now!"

I scrambled into the passenger seat, my heart pounding. Just as Nate was about to start the engine, my mother suddenly rushed over, gripping the car window.

"Nate is drunk! He’s been drinking! He can’t drive!"

My stomach dropped. My eyes darted to Nate, who was flushed red with alcohol.

I turned on him, my voice shaking with anger.

"You are drunk?! How could you drink?! Our child—!"

Nate stammered, his face guilty but defensive.

"How was I supposed to know this would happen?! You know I don’t usually drink!"

My heart sank.

I didn’t have a driver’s license. There were no taxis in this remote countryside.

And today was Memorial Day. Everyone had been drinking.

Except for one person.

Julia.

She was pregnant. She must have stayed sober.

I shoved my daughter into Nate’s arms and rushed back inside.

Julia was lounging against her husband, acting coy. When she saw me storm in, she barely spared me a glance before turning away.

I knew she wouldn’t agree easily. So I begged.

"Julia, please—can you drive us to the hospital?"

She blinked at me, feigning innocence.

"Ah? Can’t my brother-in-law take you? I mean, I am pregnant."

I clenched my fists. "You’re the only one who hasn’t been drinking! I’m begging you—just this once!"

Before she could answer, my aunt stepped in, blocking me with a gentle, practiced smile.

"Nadia, it’s not that your sister doesn’t want to help you," she said, patting my hand as if she were comforting a child. "She’s carrying a baby. If something happens to the son in her belly, who will take responsibility? We must know how to seek benefits and avoid risks, don’t you think?"

My chest tightened. My daughter’s life was slipping away, and they were talking about benefits.

I clasped my hands together and turned to Julia, my voice breaking.

"Julia, your baby is only one month along. Normal driving won’t harm him! But my daughter—she’s vomiting blood! Please, have a heart!"

Julia remained where she was, leaning casually against the edge of the table.