Cries of baby
The rain fell in relentless sheets, drumming against the grand windows of the Scott family mansion in City D. Inside, the warmth of the mansion did all little to soften the tension that hung thick in the air . The air was heavy filled with pain. In the quietness of a moment a mother's cries began quietly at first soft moans of discomfort that quickly escalated into sharp, ragged gasps. She clutched the bedpost as if her life depends on it, her knuckles white, sweat slicking her hair to her forehead. This was no ordinary pain. This was the pain that comes when life and death dance on the edge of a knife.
"I… I can't…" she gasped, her body trembling as if the storm outside had seeped into her very bones.
Her husband rushed to her side, a mixture of sorrow, worry, fear and helplessness in his eyes. "Stay calm, just stay calm! The doctor will be here any minute!"
She shook her head weakly, gasping through another contraction. "Calm… calm?" she rasped, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Do you… do you think I can be calm when it feels like… like my body is tearing apart?"
Her eyes, wide with pain and fear, searched his for comfort, for some reassurance that the world hadn't betrayed her yet. "I'm… I'm trying to be strong… but it hurts… it hurts too much…"
A shudder ran through her as she clenched the sheets, teeth gritted, fighting the agony. "If only I could… just… breathe without this fire burning in me… but I can't… I can't…"
Tears streamed down her face, mixing with sweat, her body wracked with exhaustion. "Bring… her into this world… safely… please…"
Her words were soft, fragile, and yet desperate a mixture of fear, love, and an unshakable will. She was breaking, but in that breaking, she carried the most important thing she would ever give: life.
With each contraction, her cries grew louder, echoing through the hallways of the mansion. Servants peeked in, faces pale, whispering prayers under their breath.
The servants lingered in the hallway, peering through the slightly open door, faces pale and hands pressed together as if in silent prayer.
"God… please, let the lady be safe," one whispered, her voice trembling so much it sounded like the wind through the halls.
"She's… she's been crying for hours," another muttered, biting her lip. "I've never seen her like this… it's too much for anyone."
"Should we… call for more help?" a younger maid asked nervously, glancing at the rain streaking the windows. "The roads are flooded… the doctor won't get here in time…"
"Shh!" hissed an older servant, placing a trembling finger on her lips. "Pray quietly! Don't disturb her… she needs all her strength. God help her bring the baby safely."
Another servant's eyes welled with tears as she clasped her hands together. "Please… let both of them live. Please…"
The murmurs grew into a chorus of prayers, whispered over and over, mingling with the mother's cries and the relentless drumming of the rain outside. Fear, helplessness, and hope wrapped the servants in a tight knot—they could do nothing but watch, pray, and hope a miracle would come.
The husband gripped her hand tighter, knuckles white, and every time her cry tore through the room, a shiver ran down his spine. Each desperate scream was a dagger to his chest, a reminder that life and death were balanced on a knife's edge—and he had no control over it.
"Stay calm… stay calm…" he repeated, his own voice trembling despite his attempts to sound steady. But inside, panic gnawed at him, clawing at the edges of his reason. How could he stay calm when the woman he loved—or at least, the woman who had promised him a family—was writhing in such torment before his very eyes?
Every contraction made his stomach twist. He could feel her pain as if it were his own. Her moans, ragged and desperate, echoed through the mansion, leaving him hollow and helpless. He wanted to take the pain from her, to bear it himself, but he could only stand there, powerless, murmuring useless reassurances.
A part of him wanted to scream, to call the heavens to intervene. Another part, darker and quieter, feared what would happen if they failed—if the woman he loved, if the child they had brought into the world, did not survive.
His heart thudded in his chest with every cry, a frantic rhythm that matched the storm outside. He had never felt so small, so utterly incapable. And yet, every time she gasped and begged him to stay close, he held her tighter, whispering promises he wasn't sure he could keep.
He hated the silence that followed her final cries, hated the stillness that replaced the sound of her breath. And when the newborn's first wail split the room, a strange mixture of relief and dread twisted in him—relief that the child had survived, and dread that he had already lost the love of his life.
For the first time, he realized how fragile life was, how cruel fate could be, and how powerless a man could feel when all he could do was watch the one he loved suffer, helpless to stop it.
The sound of tires splashing through puddles echoed through the mansion's driveway. A car horn blared faintly against the rhythm of the rain, and one of the older servants rushed to the door, flinging it open despite the downpour.
"Doctor! Doctor Chen is here!" she shouted, her voice cracking with a mixture of relief and fear. She could barely keep the drenched hair from falling into her eyes as she waved him inside.
The doctor, a tall man in a soaked coat, quickly assessed the situation with sharp eyes. "Where is she? Quickly!" he barked, grabbing his medical bag, his voice slicing through the muffled sounds of the storm.
The servants moved as one, their fear palpable. "This way, doctor! Hurry!" one of the younger maids cried, her hands trembling as she opened a side hallway door. The older servants flanked them, clearing the path, speaking in hushed, urgent whispers.
"Through here, doctor! She's been in labor for hours!" another whispered, almost pleading. "Please… save her…"
The doctor nodded, adjusting his mask and gown as he moved with purpose, the rainwater dripping from his coat. The servants guided him carefully, their eyes wide with worry as they led him through the polished corridors of the mansion, past the luxurious halls that now felt suffocating in their silence.
"Over here!" the first servant called softly, throwing open the bedroom door. The doctor strode inside, his hands already moving to assess the mother's condition, his voice calm but authoritative.
"Step back, everyone," he commanded. "I need space. Quickly now—get me gloves, the oxygen, and the emergency kit."
The servants scrambled, whispering prayers under their breath, the fear of failure etched into their every movement. One of them held back the trembling mother's hair, another pressed a damp cloth to her forehead. All the while, the rain outside beat against the windows like a drum of urgency, echoing the pounding of hearts in the room.
The doctor's eyes were sharp, scanning the mother and the baby's status, barking instructions, checking vital signs. "She's exhausted. The baby is stable, but we need to work quickly. Prepare the resuscitation tools—get ready!"
Even in their obedience, the servants couldn't hide their terror. They watched every move, their breaths shallow, their prayers whispered over and over. Each moment felt like an eternity, every heartbeat of the mother a fragile thread they feared might snap at any second....