Twenty one

Rowan’s family’s private doctor arrived at the house in a few minutes, coming with a few medical kits to test Emma, as Rowan had called in a frantic emergency.

Rowan paced up and down, waiting till the elevator opened to reveal his family doctor, who had come on such short notice.

“Doctor Francis,” he called as he marched to him in haste. He led him to Emma’s room, where she lay on the bed, unconscious and sick.

Even though he was calm now, Rowan’s mind still cringed from the memory of him talking to her a few minutes ago, and the next thing she was unconscious, “Tell me, what’s the wrong doctor?” He asked quietly.

“She had been under a lot of stress without sleep or proper nutrition. I would like to see her get well rested, but do not worry; the baby isn’t affected but she does need rest.”

Rowan should feel pissed about why he felt concerned for work and a child that may not be his, but he couldn’t bring himself to not care at this moment. “Thank you, doctor.”

He told the man earn