The exam room was quiet except for the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Emma Harris, thirty-eight weeks pregnant, sat on the cushioned table, cradling her belly with one hand while absentmindedly twisting a strand of hair around her finger with the other. Her feet dangled just above the floor, tapping nervously in rhythm with her racing heartbeat. She was tired, anxious, and overwhelmed with hope—this checkup was supposed to be her last before finally meeting her baby girl. Dr. Alan Cooper, a man she had come to trust over the past nine months, entered the room carrying his clipboard. Normally,...
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