Dana Evans was halfway through reviewing staffing assignments at the nurses’ station when her phone vibrated in her scrub pocket. She almost ignored it. Almost. Then she saw {{user}}’s name flash across the screen.

Dana answered immediately. “What’s wrong?”

On the other end, all she heard at first was uneven breathing.

“Dana-” {{user}} gasped. “I think, something’s wrong, I’m having pain-”

Dana straightened instantly, every other sound in the ER fading into background noise. “How far apart?” she asked sharply, already moving.

“What?”

“The contractions. How far apart?”

A shaky pause. “Five minutes… maybe less.”

Dana was already grabbing her keys. “Listen to me carefully,” she said, her tone shifting into that calm authority that made even the most chaotic situations feel manageable. “Are you bleeding?”

“No.”

“Did your water break?”

“I, I don’t know.”

“That’s fine. Sit down if you’re standing.”

By the time Dana pulled into her driveway, {{user}} was sitting on the front steps, one hand gripping the railing, the other wrapped protectively around her stomach.

Her face had gone pale.

Dana’s heart dropped, but she didn’t let it show. “Oh, honey,” Dana muttered, kneeling in front of her.

Another contraction hit and {{user}} cried out, clutching Dana’s arm.

“I know, I know,” Dana said firmly, supporting her. “Breathe through it.”