Part 2
They moved me quickly into a triage room after that—partly because my vital signs had spiked, and partly because the nurse wanted to separate me from the chaos Janice was causing outside. Derek followed close behind, still gripping his phone, still looking conflicted. Janice tried to come in as well—until another nurse blocked the doorway.
“Only one support person for now,” the nurse said firmly. “Patient’s request.”
Janice’s voice immediately shot upward. “She doesn’t get to request anything! That’s my grandchild!”
My stomach sank. Derek opened his mouth as if he was about to say something—but the words never came, like he had been conditioned not to challenge her.
Inside the triage room, the lights felt painfully bright and my body felt too tight, like my skin didn’t belong to me. A nurse wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm again.
“Your blood pressure is high,” she said gently. “We need calm in here.”
“I’m trying,” I whispered, ashamed. “She makes me feel like I’m losing my mind.”
The nurse’s voice softened. “You’re not losing your mind. You’re in labor.”
Through the thin wall, Janice’s voice still echoed down the hallway, loud enough to rattle my nerves.
“She’s always been manipulative!” Janice shouted. “Derek, she’s trying to cut me out!”
Derek’s voice came back faintly, strained. “Mom, please—”
Janice interrupted him immediately. “Don’t ‘please’ me. You know I’m right. You’ve seen how she cries to get her way.”
My chest tightened again, panic creeping back toward the surface. When Derek stepped back into the room, I stared at him.
“Tell her to stop,” I said, my eyes filling with tears. “Just once, tell her to stop.”
He looked miserable. “Mia… this isn’t the time.”
“It’s exactly the time,” I snapped—then instantly regretted raising my voice because another contraction slammed into me. I groaned and clutched my stomach. “I can’t do this while she’s screaming.”
Derek dragged a hand through his hair. “She’s just worried.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Worried? She just called me a liar while I’m trying to bring your child into the world.”
Before he could respond, the charge nurse entered the room—older, composed, the kind of woman who didn’t need to prove she was in charge.
“I’m Nurse Thompson,” she said calmly. “We need to talk about your support plan.”
I wiped the tears from my face. “I don’t want Janice anywhere near me.”
Derek began to object. “But she’s—”
Nurse Thompson raised a hand to stop him. “The patient decides. And I want to make something very clear: the waiting area is monitored. We document disruptive behavior.”
Derek blinked in confusion. “Document?”
“Yes,” she replied, her voice steady as steel. “There was a report of verbal harassment contributing to a patient’s panic. If the situation escalates, security can remove the visitor.”
Derek swallowed hard. I saw something shift behind his eyes—fear, perhaps—but not fear of me.
Fear of consequences.
As if he was finally realizing that his mother’s behavior wasn’t just “family drama” anymore. It was something the hospital could record, file, and act on.
A few minutes later, Janice appeared in the doorway again, forcing a thin smile.
“Mia,” she said sweetly, her voice dripping with syrup, “I just want to support you.”
Nurse Thompson didn’t move an inch. “Ma’am, you need to step back.”
Janice’s smile faltered. “I’m not leaving without seeing my grandchild.”
My hands trembled as I gripped the blanket. “Then you might not see either of us,” I whispered.
And that was when Derek finally looked at his mother and said, louder than he ever had before,
“Mom… you have to go.”
Janice’s face twisted with fury.
“You’ll regret this,” she hissed.
And I knew that threat wasn’t meant only for me.
It was aimed at Derek too—because for the first time, he had stopped pretending.
