The Comments Save Me From Death

I had been an OB-GYN for almost a decade, so I knew the dangers and suffering women faced during childbirth very well.

Since Isabella White was my best friend, I didn't hesitate at all when I received her call.

"Kayla, my water just broke, and my stomach hurts like hell! Come to the hospital right now! I want you to deliver my baby yourself!" Her voice was trembling.

I ran back to the hospital while reassuring Isabella. "Don't panic. I'll be there soon. Which delivery room are you in?"

"Operating Room Three! Dr. Miller and the others are already ready. They're waiting for you to come in and deliver the baby!"

I splashed through the puddles as I ran toward the hospital, muddy water spraying around my feet.

Just as I was about to go around an open manhole, a line of scrolling text suddenly appeared before my eyes. The words were pale blue and semi-transparent, resembling the floating comments in a video game. They hovered just above my field of vision and moved wherever I looked.

[Don't go into the operating room.]

[Isabella White has already lost the baby. She doesn't want you to deliver the baby. She just wants a scapegoat.]

[Her mafia husband will fly into a rage and snap your neck with his bare hands.]

[You won't be the only one to die. Your entire family will suffer his wrath!]

I stared at those words, my heart pounding wildly.

Isabella was my best friend. We had known each other for 15 years. Why would she want to hurt me?

Just then, I heard passersby gossiping nearby.

"Did you see that pregnant woman at the hospital? She was bleeding so badly. It was terrifying. I don't think they'll be able to save the baby."

"That pregnant woman was driving a limited-edition red Ferrari too. She looks like a big deal. Why should people like us worry about the problems of the rich?"

Isabella happened to have the same limited-edition red Ferrari too. There were only a few of them in the world.

My phone buzzed again.

Isabella had sent me a voice message. "Kayla, are you here? I'm having contractions every three minutes.

"I'm really scared… Can you please come over as soon as you can? My husband will be here soon. He wants to thank you in person."

Hearing the tears in her soft voice, a chill ran down my spine. I gripped my phone tightly, my nails digging into my palms.

Could there really be such a coincidence in this world?

Besides, ever since Isabella became pregnant, her husband's family, the Clarks, had placed utmost importance on her and arranged for a world-class medical team to look after her. Why would she need my help delivering her baby at a time like this?

As I thought it over, what the scrolling text said did seem believable.

The moment I stepped into the delivery room, I would become a sacrificial lamb and be ultimately blamed for the miscarriage.

I didn't dare think any further. The longer I thought about it, the stronger my sense of dread grew.

Almost ten feet away was an old maintenance hole, about four feet wide. The warning tape around the area had been twisted out of place by the wind, and the lights weren't working either. It was hard to notice any of it at night.

I took a deep breath and quickly made up my mind. Since the scrolling text had stated that Isabella wanted to set me up, I might as well take a gamble.

As long as I didn't step into the delivery room, Isabella couldn't frame me for the miscarriage.

I stared at the manhole and pretended to trip over some gravel by the roadside. I lurched forward, flailing my arms as I completely lost my balance.

"Ah!" My back slammed against the hard concrete rim at the bottom of the maintenance hole. My right calf slammed into a protruding piece of rebar, and a sharp pain shot through my feet. My entire body convulsed, and my face was smeared with cold sweat mixed with mud.

My phone went flying out of my hand, landing into the muddy water nearby. The screen was still lit as Isabella's calls kept coming in one after another.

I lay there and did not move a muscle.