Part 3: My Husband Opened the Door Too Late
At exactly 6:27 p.m., the guests erupted into applause.
The wedding was over.
Outside the bathroom, footsteps flooded the hallway.
Laughter.
Champagne glasses.
Music.
I had almost no voice left.
Still...
I screamed one final time.
"CALEB!"
This time...
Someone heard me.
"...Mara?"
His voice.
Muffled.
Confused.
Then footsteps rushed toward the door.
"Mara?"
He grabbed the handle.
It wouldn't move.
"What the hell?"
I pounded weakly against the wood.
"Caleb..."
His entire tone changed.
"Mara!"
He threw his shoulder against the door.
Once.
Twice.
The heavy frame barely moved.
"Someone get maintenance!"
People crowded into the hallway.
"What happened?"
"Why is it locked?"
Then Eleanor appeared, carrying a champagne flute.
Her expression never changed.
"Oh dear."
"It must have jammed."
Caleb turned toward her.
"Where's the key?"
"I don't know."
"You locked it."
"I certainly did not."
Another scream escaped me.
Not from fear.
From pain.
Caleb's face drained of all color.
"Mara..."
"I'm pushing..."
He didn't hesitate again.
He stepped backward.
Then drove his full weight into the door.
The old brass lock exploded from the frame.
The door burst inward.
He found me lying in blood on the marble floor.
My dress was soaked.
I was barely conscious.
And between my shaking legs...
Our baby's head had already crowned.
"Oh God..."
Caleb collapsed beside me.
"I'm here."
"I'm so sorry."
He took my hand.
"I've got you."
The wedding guests crowded the doorway in horrified silence.
Even the photographer lowered his camera.
For the first time all day...
Everyone finally saw what Eleanor had done.
Minutes later, paramedics stormed into Hawthorne Manor.
Our daughter, Lily Grace Vale, entered the world before the ambulance even reached the hospital.
She wasn't breathing.
For eight endless seconds.
Then...
May you like
She cried.
It was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.
