The Unseen Empress of Sound

My belly swollen, nine months in, I clutched the counter as a brutal contraction stole my breath.

"Ethan," I gasped, "I think it's the baby. It's too early."

He didn't even glance up from his phone, scrolling through pictures of Sabrina Chavez, the singer who' d stolen my song.

"Not now, Jocelyn," he drawled, "I'm dealing with a crisis." He meant Sabrina's stylist sent the wrong shoes.

Not impending premature birth.

Another wave of pain hit, sharper.

I saw red on my legs.