I forgot about the phone tracking.

I forgot about the restraining order.

I only saw my wife and our daughter.

“Her breathing is a little wet,” Nurse Sarah said gently, leaning over the bed.

“We need to take her down to the neonatal unit for a quick check. Just to clear her airways.”

“Is she okay?” Megan asked, her voice rising with instant panic.

“She’s fine, sweetie,” the nurse said, smiling. “It’s just standard procedure for babies born this quickly.”

The nurse lifted the baby and placed her in a clear plastic bassinet.

“I’ll go with her,” I said, starting to step away from the bed.

“No, Jake,” Megan pleaded, her hand reaching out to grab my shirt.

She looked incredibly weak, her eyelids drooping as the adrenaline left her body.

“Please stay. Just for five minutes. I’m so dizzy.”

I looked at the bassinet, then down at Megan’s pale, exhausted face.

“Okay,” I said, kissing her damp forehead. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

I watched Nurse Sarah wheel the bassinet out into the hallway, the heavy door clicking shut behind her.