When Lacey hung up the phone, the emotion of the encounter bubbled up in her throat. A thousand thoughts pulled at her, sharp and insistent. Was she doing the right thing? Could she actually help, or would she make things worse? A cold ball of anxiety settled deep in her stomach as she realized how unprepared she felt. The ache of their breakup and the pure unpreparedness to witness childbirth raged in her gut. Yet, beneath the panic, the reminder that Brooke never let her face the darkness by herself rang loudly in her mind. Even if their ending was terrible, their friendship was still important. She collected herself so she could return to the bar to tell Cole what had happened.

“Hey, I need to leave. My ex is in labor, and her boyfriend left her,” she said once she got close to his ear to speak to him over the loud music in the space.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He questioned her as a concerned friend, not her boss.

The tone made his inquiry less frightening to hear. The last thing she wanted was to upset him, but she could tell he genuinely cared.

“Yeah, I can’t leave her alone. You saw how much of a jerk her boyfriend was,” Lacey explained.

“Go. I got this,” he assured her, giving her arm a gentle squeeze before she left the area and headed to the exit.

As she went back into the night, the air overwhelmed her senses. Sirens wailed in the distance, and traffic hummed, with headlights reflecting on the wet street. The cool breeze carried a faint trace of cigarette smoke and wet concrete, sharp and grounding. As she took a deep breath to calm herself, she could feel the humid air sticking to her skin. Across the street, neon signs buzzed above shuttered storefronts, casting trembling colors on the sidewalk. All of it made the evening feel both familiar and strange, as if she’d stepped into someone else’s life for a moment.

The reality of the situation set in. Could she help her? Lacey didn’t know about childbirth. Yet a persistent sensation remained: recollections of their shared love, and a rigid sense of duty. Brooke had always been there for her in hard times. Maybe this was Lacey’s chance to do the same, to show that she still cared, even if everything else was uncertain. She couldn’t leave her alone in such a vulnerable state; it didn’t sit well with her.

Stepping toward the curb, she raised her hand to hail a cab. Thankfully, one appeared right away. She told the driver her destination, sat back, and fiddled with her fingers. She needed to remain calm before she arrived at the hospital.

They pulled up in front of the entrance. She paid the man in cash.

“Keep it.” She had no time to wait for change.

When the sliding doors opened, the sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant and the cold, artificial air filled her senses. Fluorescent lights bounced off gleaming white floors, casting everything in a harsh, washed-out glow. The echo of hurried footsteps and distant intercom announcements blended with the low hum of machines and murmurs of visitors clustered in the waiting area.

Lacey made her way straight to the desk to be greeted by a less-than-enthusiastic nurse. Despite the anxiety that radiated off her, Lacey’s urgency didn’t spark any customer-service desire in this woman.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m here to see Brooke Hart. She’s in labor,” she explained.

“How are you related to her?” the nurse probed.

Lacey paused for a moment. She knew her lie would be easy to read, but knew she had to try.

“Sister,” she said simply as she slid over her ID.

The nurse sighed and typed Brooke’s first and last name into her system.

“Last names don’t match,” the nurse said.

“I’m adopted. Lady, can I please see her?” Lacey begged. Her urgency turned into irritation.

“Fine,” the nurse relented, printed her pass, and shoved her ID back toward her.

Lacey scoffed, looked at the room-number sticker, and stuck it to her shirt. With every step, the familiar screams were audible.

Her heart slammed inside her chest as she approached the room.

“Hi,” she greeted her ex with as much calm as she could. Brooke burst into tears at the sight of her.

Lacey moved toward her bedside, taking the brunette’s hand into her own. “You got this,” she reminded her, earning a sniffled nod.

The labor seemed to last for hours. The piercing screams, the sweat, and pure endurance changed Lacey’s perspective forever. She watched as Brooke fought with all her might to bring new life into the world.

When the chaos of the moment died down and baby Lilly was in her mother’s arms, Lacey finally spoke.

“He really left you?” she asked. The timing wasn’t the best, but she couldn’t fathom the idea of someone leaving the mother of their child at such a sensitive time.

Brooke’s eyes welled up, and she shook her head, trying to remove the eruption of emotion that threatened to spill over. “Yeah, he doesn’t believe me when I say I love him. He’s convinced it’s you I love,” she explained. Her voice sounded nervous, almost as if she were trying to convince herself otherwise. For a split second, a memory flickered between them: late-night drives with music turned low, hands intertwined on the console, laughter spilling into quiet confessions. Lacey wondered if Brooke thought about those moments, too.

Lacey didn’t know how to respond to the confession. Did Brooke still love her? Was that the reason she called her in her hour of need? She could feel her breath pick up with anxiety as the questions fluttered through her mind.

“Don’t worry about that.  Concentrate on Lilly and your recovery. If he actually cared, he’ll come back,” she replied. Nearly ten seconds passed before she spoke. Her words froze as she fought to find them.

“I should go,” she added, not wanting to intrude on Brooke’s quality time with the baby.

An awkward silence stretched between them as Lacey turned to leave. Every step toward the door felt heavier than the last, her heart torn between the urge to stay and the fear that she might never fit back into Brooke’s life.

Was she more afraid of hearing that Brooke had truly moved on, or of realizing that the feelings between them had never really faded at all? The thought of being rejected, of offering support only to be pushed away, prickled at her confidence. She didn’t want to leave, but she was terrified she might say too much, or not enough, and ruin the fragile peace between them. The two of them hadn’t spoken about what happened between them in months, and she couldn’t decide if she longed for closure, feared rekindling old feelings, or dreaded what honesty might reveal. For a moment, regret tangled with longing inside her. It was a reminder of how much had been left unsaid.

“Stay,” Brooke finally said. “Please.” Her facial expression pleaded with the blonde near the door. The looming conversation about their past didn’t matter to her. She needed a familiar face.

Without a word, Lacey took her spot back next to the bed. Abandoning Brooke wasn’t an option. Right now, their friendship took precedence over their past. She looked between Brooke and Lilly. “Baby girl is your twin,” she remarked with a quiet smile.

“Lilly’s better than me,” Brooke sighed as she gazed at her newborn daughter.

“You’re both beautiful,” Lacey promised with a kiss on her temple.

Brooke’s eyes closed at the gesture. “Why’d you come?” she asked. It was a loaded question, but one she needed answered.

Lacey hesitated. Her mouth opened to speak, but the beep of Brooke’s vital machine stopped her internal process of finding the right words. Brooke peered at her face.

“You’re my friend. You didn’t leave me alone while I was in need, so I wasn’t going to do that to you.” Lacey paused and squeezed Brooke’s hand a little tighter. “We take care of each other. That’s what matters.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her eyes growing heavy as she lay back with her new baby in her arms.

“I got her for a while. Sleep,” Lacey reassured.

Brooke nodded and carefully put the baby into Lacey’s arms. The newborn felt heavy in her hands; it was a metaphor for the responsibility she felt for this little girl. Even if she weren’t hers directly, the care would always remain because she was there for Lilly’s grand entrance.

Editor: Lucy Cafiero