Malcolm’s hand came to rest at the small of my back. Just his hand, warm and steady, and somehow it cut through every protest I had lined up.

I closed my mouth.

Dr. Liana exhaled like she’d been holding her breath since the waiting room.

“Thank you,” she said, and it wasn’t entirely clear which of us she was thanking.

Two nurses appeared with a gurney, wheels rattling against the tile floor, and Dr. Liana was already rattling off instructions, ultrasound, fetal monitoring, blood pressure, the specific clipped language of someone shifting from frightened to focused.

I sat on the edge of the gurney and let them work around me,...