[Scene: A cozy family-style restaurant. The lunch rush is winding down. A pregnant woman, about 8 months along, sits at a booth with her husband across from her. She’s smiling, enjoying a plate of pasta.]
Husband:
You’ve been craving that all week. Is it living up to the hype?
Pregnant Woman: (laughing)
Mmm, finally! This is exactly what I needed. Thank God.
[She takes another bite. Then suddenly… her face changes. Her smile fades. She places her fork down slowly.]
Husband:
Babe?
Pregnant Woman: (placing her hand on her chest)
Wait… I—I can’t… breathe.
[Her breathing grows shallow. Her other hand grips the edge of the table. Her eyes widen. People at nearby tables start to notice.]
Husband: (alarmed, standing up)
Hey! Somebody call 911! I think she’s choking — or allergic or— I don’t know!
Waitress: (rushing over)
Ma’am? Are you okay? Can you talk to me?
Pregnant Woman: (struggling, gasping)
I—can’t—get air—
[The room falls into chaos as the manager brings water, a customer says they’re a nurse, and someone dials emergency services.]
Customer (nurse):
Let’s keep her calm — Ma’am, nod if you can hear me. You’re going to be okay. We’ve got help coming.
Husband: (panicking)
It’s the baby — is it the baby?! Please—just help her!
[The woman tries to stay upright but begins to lean forward, clutching her stomach and chest. Sirens begin to echo faintly in the distance.]
Pregnant Woman: (faintly, with effort)
Please… my baby…
