Chapter 29
Aurora
Yesterday, he stayed with me until the nurse came to take me to the hospital room. Today, he has been here all day. Maxime has been caressing, kissing, and hugging me incessantly. We haven't spoken much to each other. How could we, when there are no words to describe what has happened? So we sat in silence until the nurse kicked him out. Since then, I've been alone with the three other patients sharing my room.
It's nearly midnight. Any moment now, a new day will begin.
The elderly lady with the cut on her forehead has been snoring for hours, and the woman with the broken leg keeps changing her sleeping position at least five times a minute, groaning in pain.
But I don't care.
I stare into the obscure darkness outside the window. Dark veils drift across the sky, and the moon occasionally peeks through.
Still, I don't know what to think or feel.
Grief? Loneliness? Anger?
No.
Guilt.
Yes, that's it. Among the whirlwind of emotions inside me, guilt is the strongest. If only I had paid attention to the warning signs my body gave me, maybe I wouldn't be lying here now. If only I had admitted to myself that I needed to rest, my baby might still be alive.
I was selfish, desperately reaching for the stars, failing to realize I already held them in my hands.
My baby.
The first time I heard the heartbeat of that little wonder, all my doubts vanished in an instant. I knew which dream was more important and why.
I shouldn't have risked it.
The bed next to mine creaks again. A tear creeps cold and wet down my temple.
It continues like this the whole night. And as the day slowly breaks outside the window, all I wish for is to seek refuge in my mother's comforting arms.
She would find the right words to stop the tears from flowing. She would rock me gently and lend me some of her strength to ease the cramp in my chest.
But just like with her death, I must now cope with this loss on my own. Back then, I was convinced I had to be strong and keep fighting.
Keep fighting, no matter what.
I was sure that was how it should be. Yet it's exactly that mindset that brought me here.
So what is right? When is it better to fight, and when should one surrender? I don't know. I know nothing anymore.
The old lady snores more intensely. The grinding begins, followed by a groaning sound. Outside in the corridor, someone bustles back and forth. Doors open and close. Cutlery clinks.
I pull the blanket over my head.
"Breakfast," a woman's voice sings. It rattles loudly. Footsteps approach. "Wake up." Someone shakes me roughly.
Reluctantly, I pull the blanket back. "I'm awake," I croak, but the nurse pays no attention. She places the breakfast tray on the metal bedside table and leaves.
I glance at the plate with two slices of white bread and various plastic containers. Do they really think I could eat now?
I don't even bother to hold back my tears and pull the blanket over my head again. Curled up, I let time flow over me as if I were a stone jutting out from the riverbed.
At some point, I’m taken for an examination. The young doctor with the nickel glasses tells me with a smile that everything is fine and I can be discharged today.
