When I took in a stranded fortune teller and her newborn, I thought I was just offering shelter. But the next morning, my own daughter disappeared from her room. It was late when I pulled off the highway, my eyes heavy after a long shift.
Up ahead, something lay on the side of the road. As my headlights swept over it, I saw a woman, waving weakly. I slowed down, my doctor instincts kicking in.
She looked young and wore a bright scarf wrapped around her head. Her dress was flowing, with patterns and colors that almost glowed under the car’s lights. She looked like she was a fortune teller on a fairground, or maybe a traveling show.
“Help me,” she gasped as I got out and approached. “Are you hurt?” I asked, moving closer. She shook her head, wincing.
“No… not hurt. I—” she grimaced, clutching her stomach. “It’s my baby… she’s coming…”
It took me a second to process, but then I saw the unmistakable signs.
She was in labor, and the contractions looked close. “Alright, stay calm,” I said, kneeling beside her. “I’m a doctor.
Let’s get you through this, okay?”
I glanced around, but we were alone. I hadn’t delivered a baby in years, not since my residency. Still, I had to do something.
There wasn’t time to get her anywhere else. “What’s your name?” I asked, trying to keep her calm. “Miranda,” she whispered, then cried out, another wave of pain washing over her.
The contractions came faster, and she grabbed my hand, squeezing hard. I guided her through each one, urging her to stay focused. Soon enough, I could see the baby’s head crowning.
“Almost there, Miranda,” I said. “One more big push. You’ve got this.”
She took a deep breath, pushed, and moments later, I held a tiny, squirming newborn in my hands.
The baby let out a weak cry, and I felt a rush of relief. Wrapping the little girl in the towel, I handed her to Miranda. I took a deep breath, glancing around the empty road.
“Do you need to get to a hospital?”
“No,” she replied quickly, her eyes darting away. “I mean… I don’t… I can’t go to a hospital. I… I left my husband.” She hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully.
“He…
wasn’t kind to me. I ran away. I’m afraid the hospital will give me away.”
I nodded, sensing she was holding back details.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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