Page 4 of Certified Pressure 3 (Certified Pressure #3)

Ka’mari screamed again, a sound that cut through me different this time. “No! No, please no!” She shook her head as her arms trembled, but when the doctor tried to hand her our son, she couldn’t do it. She turned away, cryin’, her voice breakin’.

The doctor put him in my arms instead. My chest burned and my eyes stung, but I couldn’t even bring myself to look at his face for more than a second. My hands shook too bad.

I leaned forward, my voice barely there. “Here, baby.” I placed him in Ka’mari’s arms, ‘cause no matter how much it hurt, I knew she needed to hold him. She clutched him against her chest, kissin’ his cheeks through her tears, whisperin’ his name over and over, “Kamir… Kamir… my baby.”

I couldn’t move at first. My feet felt glued to the floor, my vision blurry from the tears I was fightin’ to hold back.

My mind kept tellin’ me this shit wasn’t real.

But then after a while, I looked at Ka’mari holdin’ him, cryin’ into his tiny face, and my body finally moved.

I sat on the edge of the bed, slid my arms under her hands, and took him back.

He was weightless, but the weight of him crushed me all the same.

I held him against my chest, starin’ down at his face, studyin’ every detail.

He looked just like me. My son was a mirror image of me, and yet he was gone.

My eyes burned so bad I thought I would break down right there, but I forced it back ‘cause I ain’t wanna lose it in front of Ka’mari.

I kissed his forehead, then kissed his cheeks, then pressed my lips to his tiny fingers that was curled up tight.

“I’m sorry, lil’ man,” I whispered, my voice low and cracked.

“I wanted to give you everything. You was supposed to be my heir. You was supposed to grow up in all this I built. You was supposed to carry my name. And now you gone before I even got to hear you cry.”

Ka’mari leaned into me, her face pressed against my shoulder, her body still shakin’.

She kissed our son too, kissin’ him like she could pour her soul back into his tiny body and make him breathe again.

I couldn’t stand to see her break like that, but I also couldn’t let go of him.

It felt like if I put him down I was lettin’ him go forever.

So we didn’t let him go. We held him together all night.

Nurses came in, doctors checked on Ka’mari, but nobody rushed us.

They let us have that time. The lights in the room was dim, and the world outside didn’t exist. It was just me, Ka’mari, and our son.

We whispered to him, told him how much we loved him, how much we wanted him, how much we would’ve given for him to stay.

Ka’mari cried until she fell asleep on my shoulder, still clutchin’ part of the blanket that wrapped him.

I stayed awake, starin’ at him for hours. I rubbed his cheek with my thumb, kissed his forehead again and again, and whispered his name. Kamir…I wanted it to echo through my heart forever ‘cause that was all I had left of him.

When mornin’ came, the nurse knocked soft and asked if we was ready. My throat closed up, my stomach twisted, but I knew what that meant. It was time to give him back. It was time to face the fact that we was leavin’ this place without him.

Ka’mari woke up slow, her eyes swollen and red. She looked at me holdin’ him and shook her head, whisperin’, “I can’t… I can’t let him go.”

I kissed her hand, pressed my forehead to hers, and told her, “We gotta, baby. We ain’t got no choice.

” My voice broke when I said it, and the tears I been holdin’ back finally slid down my face.

I didn’t sob, I didn’t break loud, but I cried in silence while I laid our son back in her arms so she could kiss him one last time.

We held him together, kissin’ his face, whisperin’ goodbye. Then the nurse came in with tears in her eyes and asked again.

Ka’mari placed him back in the blanket, and I tucked it tight around him before handin’ him over. That was the hardest shit I ever did in my life. My arms felt empty the second he left them.

Ka’mari collapsed against me, cryin’ hard again, and I just wrapped her up, lettin’ her soak my shirt. I couldn’t even look at the door they carried him out of. It felt like they was carryin’ my soul away.

Later that day, the doctor came back in and told us Ka’mari could be discharged. The words didn’t even register at first. Discharged... Like it was a regular day, like we wasn’t leavin’ here broken.

We packed up in silence. I carried her bag, held her hand, and walked her out like a robot. The driver opened the car door, and Ka’mari slid in, leanin’ her head against the window. I sat beside her, starin’ out at the world that kept movin’ while mine had stopped.

We was supposed to be leavin’ with a car seat, strappin’ our son in, drivin’ home as a family. Instead, we was drivin’ home empty handed, broken hearted, and not even knowin’ how we was gon’ breathe through the next hour.

I reached for her hand, slid my fingers through hers, and whispered, “We gon’ get through this. Somehow, some way, we gon’ get through it.”

But inside I ain’t believe a damn word. A piece of me was gone, and I knew I would never get it back.