*Minho’s POV*

Onew pointed to the door that led to the parking lot. I saw flashing lights out the window and my heart began to race.

“It’s the baby,” Key spoke up. “Something’s wrong.”

Yesung gasped in horror, but I was already out the door and in the parking lot. They were about to shut the back doors of the ambulance when I cried out, “Wait! I know her! Please I have to go too!”

“Minho,” the nurse was surprised to see me in all my idol-ness, but regained her composure quickly. “I’m sorry, but regulations-,”

“Minho!” a voice cried (practically screamed) from inside the ambulance. I gave the nurse a look and she nodded her head for me to hop in.

“Nicole,” I whispered in hurt when I saw her lying on the gurney. Her makeup was running down her tearful face and she was squeezing the side of the rolling bed so hard her fists were white. I immediately knelt by her side while the nurse did whatever nurses do for a woman going into labor in the back of an ambulance.

“Something's wrong. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die,” Nicole whimpered.

“Annio Nicole,” I gave her my hand which she now squeezed, practically cutting off my circulation. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Why did you leave me Minho? Why didn’t you save me? If you hadn’t left then none of this ever would’ve happened,” she gasped in pain as endless tears poured form her eyes.

“Nicole-,”

“Why is this happening to me? I know my whole life has been a mistake, but why does it have to end this way.”

“You’re not going to die!” I exclaimed, placing a hand on her face. “Nicole you’re going to be fine! I’m sorry that I left you; I should’ve come back. Just please, be strong okay?”

She continued to sob as I brushed my hand over her face and whispered to her comfortingly. It took all my strength not to cry seeing her like this.

When we got to the hospital she was immediately taken to a surgical room. I tried to follow, but a nurse stopped me.

“You can’t go any further,” she informed me.

“But I have to. I need to be there for her!” I tried to push past the woman, but another nurse came to help hold me back.

“You can’t,” she explained. “She’s being taken into surgery.”

“Surgery?”

“They’re going to take the baby.”

My head spun and I could feel my legs go weak beneath me. I stumbled backwards and leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor.

“They have to take the baby,” I whispered while staring at the opposite wall.

“Sir,” one of the nurses squatted down next to me, but I barely noticed her. “Procedures like this are done all the time. She will be just fine.”

“But she wasn’t due for at least another month…” I pointed out, not moving my line of vision.

“That doesn’t mean anything is necessarily wrong. She’s past the 37 week mark, so the baby should be fine.”

“What about her? She’s so young.”

“There have been many successful births from mothers younger than her. Believe me, everything will be fine,” the nurse put a hand on my shoulder, but when I didn’t respond she stood up. “The waiting room is down the hall, first door on your left,” and with that she left me.