Rain hammered the roof of St. Melrose Hospital like it was warning the world that something big was about to happen. In Room 402, a 22-year-old Black woman named Zola clutched the sides of the hospital bed, sweat running down her forehead. Her long hair was tied in a loose ponytail, and her hospital gown clung to her trembling body. She was in labor with her first child.
Standing beside her was her husband, Marcus. He had deep brown skin, cropped hair, and the quiet intensity that once made Zola fall in love with him. He held her hand, but his grip was loose—hesitant. They’d been high school sweethearts, raised in the same neighborhood by hardworking Black families. Their wedding had been small but filled with joy.
But during the pregnancy, something in Marcus changed. He became distant, suspicious, silent in a way that came not from love, but from doubt. Zola noticed. Still, she believed everything would change once he held their baby. Hours passed. Nurses came and went. Zola screamed through the contractions, her tears mixing with sweat. She never let go of…….Read Full Story Here…………………….
