"I don't know. She's been complaining about chest pain the last few days, so I took her in for a checkup today. The doctor said it's serious. They need to operate right away."
"And after the surgery, she'll need at least two months of rest to recover."
Two months.
Exactly long enough to see a woman through delivery and postpartum recovery.
Something cold settled in my stomach, but I pressed on, keeping my voice light.
"I know one of the best cardiologists abroad. Why don't I reach out for you?"
Brad waved his hands frantically. "No, no, that's not necessary."
He seemed to realize how abrupt that sounded, because he caught himself immediately. He took my hands in his, guilt flooding his face.
"Babe, this is the most critical part of your recovery. Mom and I won't even be here to take care of you, and I already feel terrible about that." His voice cracked. "How could I ask you to worry about this on top of everything else?"
His eyes were rimmed with red as he spoke.
Like his heart was breaking for me.
But my gaze had drifted down and locked onto his hand.
There, on the web between his right thumb and forefinger, was a scar.
Identical to the one in the poster's profile picture.
If I remembered correctly, he'd gotten that scar three months ago.
I'd just finished a prenatal checkup, and Brad was walking me out of the hospital. An unleashed German shepherd came snarling out of nowhere, lunging straight at me.
Brad hadn't hesitated. He'd thrown himself in front of me and fought the dog off with his bare hands.
In the end, the animal had torn a chunk of flesh from the web of his hand.
Blood everywhere. Seventeen stitches.
I'd cried so hard I couldn't stop wiping my eyes, but Brad just smiled and tried to comfort me:
"Don't cry. As long as you and the baby are safe, a scar is nothing. I'd have given up the whole hand and it still would've been worth it."
That scar, once a symbol of his love, now stung like a needle pressed against my chest.
I reached out and traced the scar between Brad's thumb and forefinger.
"Does this still hurt?"
He blinked, caught off guard, then curled his hand closed.
"That stopped hurting a long time ago. Why are you suddenly asking?"
I lowered my gaze and said softly, "I just started thinking about the old days."
"You were so good to me and the baby back then."
Brad smiled, that indulgent smile of his, and wrapped both hands around mine.