Anna's POV
I stared at Marcus's latest message on my phone: "Okay."
Just that. One word where normally he'd send paragraphs, asking about my comfort, the twins movements, or detailed instructions for my medical team. The brevity felt wrong, like a jarring note in our carefully established rhythm of communication.
I'd sent him my latest prenatal results just an hour ago. His initial response had been slightly more forthcoming:
"Looks like the babies are getting impatient. I'm wrapping up my work here and will be back soon." When I'd responded with reassurance that he should focus on work, this strange, abbreviated "Okay" arrived.
_Something's not right._
Massaging my aching temples, I set the phone aside. The swelling in my legs had worsened over the past few days. making walking increasingly difficult.
The doctors had also noted my occasional breathing difficulties, recommending supplemental oxygen to ensure the twins weren't deprived.
