"Nadia, it’s not that your sister doesn’t want to help you," she said, patting my hand as if she were comforting a child. "She’s carrying a baby. If something happens to the son in her belly, who will take responsibility? We must know how to seek benefits and avoid risks, don’t you think?"
My chest tightened. My daughter’s life was slipping away, and they were talking about benefits.
I clasped my hands together and turned to Julia, my voice breaking.
"Julia, your baby is only one month along. Normal driving won’t harm him! But my daughter—she’s vomiting blood! Please, have a heart!"
Julia remained where she was, leaning casually against the edge of the table.
"That’s not going to work. It’s not your child, so of course, you don’t feel sorry for him!"
I knew full well that she and my aunt had no good intentions, so I turned to my mother for help instead.
She had worked as a nurse at the county hospital when she was younger—she had to have their contact information.
"Mom, you have the number for the county hospital! Call them and ask them to send an ambulance!"