The driver pulled over immediately. Without a word, he took off his jacket, spread it across the seat, and turned to face me with steady eyes.
“It’s okay, ma’am,” he said gently. “My wife couldn’t have kids. Let me help.”
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He didn’t rush me. He didn’t panic. He held my hand through every contraction, reminding me to breathe, telling me I was doing well even when I felt like I was falling apart. When we reached the hospital, he helped the nurses get me inside and waited until they took over.