Together We Rise From Ashes

My sister and I were stranded on a deserted road, eight months pregnant and with a flat tire, when a truck' s headlights pinned us in their glare.

It wasn't swerving to avoid us. It was aiming for us.

The crash was a symphony of destruction. As a monstrous pain ripped through my pregnant belly, I called my husband, Kade, my voice choked with blood and fear.

"Kade… accident… the baby… something' s wrong with the baby."

But I didn't hear panic. I heard his stepsister, Florence, whining in the background about a headache.

Then came Kade' s voice, cold as ice.