Daniella let out a faint, humorless breath. "Understood."
Minutes later, the process was done. The nurse cleaned the gel from her skin.
"You're stable," the doctor said, "but we'll keep you for observation. Just to be safe."
Daniella nodded. She did not argue. For once, there was nothing to fight.
The staff stepped out, leaving her alone with the steady hum of the monitor. Her hand remained over her abdomen. Her gaze softened—not weak, just aware. The night had not ended, but for the first time, she was not bracing for what came next. She was just waiting.
They did not discharge her. Within minutes, a nurse returned with a wheelchair.
"We're moving you to a private ward," she said.
Daniella did not resist. She shifted slowly, letting them help her sit up. A slight heaviness settled in her body now—not pain, just the aftermath. They guided her into the chair.
