Evan swallowed.
“And the baby?”
“Also stable. Fetal heart rate has normalized. We will continue observation, but right now both mother and baby are doing well.”
The breath left Evan’s body in a sound that was almost a sob.
He sat down slowly and covered his face with one hand.
Noah looked at the floor.
Relief came first.
Then, quietly, grief returned and sat beside it.
The doctor glanced toward him.
“She is asking for both of you.”
Both.
That word followed them down the hallway.
Inside the hospital room, Lauren looked pale but alive. Tubes and monitors surrounded her, but her eyes were open. Evan went to her first, pressing his lips to her hand, her forehead, her knuckles. She touched his face weakly.
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
“You scared me.”
“I scared myself.”
Then she turned toward Noah.
“There you are.”
Noah approached the bed slowly.
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Because of you.”
He shook his head. “Because the crew acted fast and the doctors were waiting.”
“And because you stood up,” Lauren said. “They told me you stayed calm. They told me you helped them know what to ask.”
Noah looked down, uncomfortable with the weight of it.
“I just recognized something.”
“That is not small.”
The room went quiet.
Then Lauren asked, “You were going somewhere important, weren’t you?”
Noah froze.
Evan looked up.
“What does she mean?”
Noah shifted his backpack strap between his fingers.
“Zurich,” he said. “Young Global Health Scholars Program. I had an interview.”
“When?” Evan asked, though his voice suggested he already knew.
“This morning.”
Evan’s face changed.
“You missed it?”
Noah nodded.
Lauren closed her eyes.
“Oh, Noah.”
“It’s okay.”
“No,” Evan said quietly. “It is not.”
Noah looked at him.
Evan’s voice lowered. “You knew you would miss it when you stayed.”
Noah could have said he did not think about it. But he had. Even in the emergency, even while helping Lauren breathe, some part of him had known the cost.
