The driver pulled away from the curb, merging into the heavy city traffic.

I looked out the window at the rain streaking down the glass.

My babies were safe in the hospital for now, but tomorrow would decide their entire future.

I checked my phone.

There was a missed call from the hospital.

My chest tightened.

I dialed the pediatric ICU back immediately.

“This is Clara,” I said when the nurse answered.

“I have a missed call from this number.”

“Yes, Mrs. Holloway,” the nurse said, her voice tense.

“You need to come back to the hospital immediately.”

“Is it the babies?” I gasped, my hand gripping the armrest.

“There is someone here,” the nurse said.

“A legal representative with an emergency court order.”

“They are trying to discharge the triplets.”

“Turn the car around,” Margaret told the driver.

The driver spun the steering wheel, tyres squeaking on the wet asphalt.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

We arrived at the hospital ten minutes later.

The rain had turned into a steady, freezing drizzle.

We ran through the sliding glass doors of the pediatric wing.