It started with a cramp.


At first, Elara told herself it was nothing. Normal. Just another ache in the strange, stretching symphony of pregnancy.


But when the cramp deepened, sharper and more insistent, and a warm trickle of blood followed, her hands began to shake.


“Michael,” she called, her voice thinner than she intended.


He was beside her in seconds.


Within minutes, they were on their way to the hospital, Elara gripping his hand so tightly her knuckles turned white.



---


The waiting room was sterile and too quiet. Every minute dragged like an hour. Michael paced. Elara stared at the floor, her mind circling with questions she couldn’t bear to ask aloud.


Had she done something wrong? Had she moved too fast? Was her body failing… again?


When the nurse finally called her name, her legs barely carried her forward.



---


The ultrasound room was dim. The technician moved in silence, her eyes focused on the screen.


Then—there it was.


The heartbeat.


Fast. Strong. Sure.


Michael let out a breath that sounded like a sob. Elara covered her face and wept.


“The baby’s okay,” the technician said softly. “It looks like a small subchorionic hematoma. Very common. But we’ll need you to rest more. No lifting, no stress. Take this seriously, but don’t panic. Your little one is still dancing in there.”


Elara looked at the monitor. Her child—her miracle—was still here.


Still becoming.



---


Back home, Elara moved carefully. Slowly. She lay on the couch, listening to soft music, journaling in small moments, letting herself be still.


Michael cooked, cleaned, rubbed her feet, kissed her forehead every morning and whispered, “You’re not broken. You’re brave.”


She believed him more each day.



---


Weeks passed. The bleeding stopped. Her strength returned in steady pulses.


And the music that had paused… slowly, it began again.


Not loud. Not triumphant.


But steady.



---


That night, Elara wrote:


"Dear little one—

You scared me.

But you stayed.

And I stayed, too.

Together, we are learning that

even when the music pauses,

the song is not over."