"Please," he said. His voice was almost empty, as if someone had reached into his chest and hollowed him out. Which was, August supposed, exactly what was going to happen. She was leaving him, again, for good this time. She would not come back. "I can't do this on my own."

He was going to. He was going to, because he owed it to the baby down the hall - their baby, the baby they worked so hard to protect already, the baby the midwife died for. He could not do this completely alone.

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