I hadn’t expected anything unusual when I walked into the mall that afternoon. I was tired, moving slowly, aware of my body in that way only heavily pregnant women understand—every step measured, every moment divided between excitement and exhaustion. I had only planned to pick up a few things, maybe walk a bit to ease the pressure in my lower back. But almost as soon as I stepped inside, a sudden tightening seized my abdomen. At first, I brushed it off as a stubborn cramp, but then another wave hit me—sharp, deep, unlike anything I’d felt before. My breath caught.

I steadied myself on a railing. The bustling noise of the mall grew distant, as if the world were sinking underwater. People moved around me, talking, laughing, carrying shopping bags, wrapped in their own days. I closed my eyes, trying to remain calm, telling myself not to panic. When I opened them again, a woman was standing in front of me, watching me with an expression that blended concern and intention. She asked if I was alright, her voice warm but firm. I tried to speak, but another tightening stole my words, and the fear that had been simmering quietly suddenly exploded into something undeniable.