That Night
It was midnight, and I distinctly remember the cry of my wife within the rubble walls of an old hospital in our small town. It wasn't easy; there were no taxis, no cars, and no ambulance to rush her to the labor room. The rain was pouring outside, and I walked through the corridors, dripping wet from my black coat. The flickering bulb lit up the path with yellow dim light. I don't know why, but listening to my wife's screams made me feel worthless. My heart was heavy with regret, of not being a devoted husband to a loving wife. A nurse dressed in white ran into the room. I wanted to stop her and ask her how my Lily was, but she didn't spare me even a second. Another nurse pushed the door open and looked at me. Her eyes did not answer my question. I kept looking at her, expecting her to say something. "Lily?" I asked. The nurse gave me a blank stare. I was confused. I stopped hearing Lily's cries; instead, it was a baby's cry. For a second, I was lost i...