I Went Into Labor an Hour Before My Sister-in-Law’s Wedding. My MIL Took My Phone, Locked Me in a Bathroom, and Said, “Hold It. Don’t Steal Her Spotlight.” Hours Later, I Woke Up in a Hospital—She Was Begging Me Not To File a Report. Then My Husband Walked In and Said One Sentence That Drained The Color From Her Face. “Breathe through it,” Rachel said, plucking my phone from my hand like it was a napkin, not a lifeline. A contraction ripped through me, hot and sharp, one hand braced on the wall,