Chapter 293:

Julie’s POV

I opened my eyelids with extreme slowness, a leaden heaviness weighing them down as if they were crafted from iron. I felt a monstrous burden, a suffocating nightmare anchoring itself entirely upon my chest. With weak, fading fingers, I felt the sheets around me, moving sluggishly and in agonizing pain across the cold white mattress, only to find myself lying in that desolate, haunting medical room.

Turning my head, I saw my brother Steve sitting directly beside me on a metal stool. His face was starkly pale, completely drained of blood as if he were a ghost. The moment I awoke, his eyes locked onto mine, a violent crimson ring surrounding his pupils. He spoke in a hoarse, fractured voice that dragged itself from a dry throat: "Julie... thank God you’re safe."

I swallowed the dry saliva that scorched my throat like ash, looking around with a consuming eagerness, my heart racing wildly. I spoke in a frantic pitch: "Steve... where is my baby? Where is my beloved son? Bring him to me."

Steve went completely silent, his movements locking up entirely. A strange, ambiguous, and terrifying expression settled over his features, sending a sharp, icy shiver running through my limbs, causing my heart to clench in a nameless dread. Tightening my weak grip on the white sheet surrounding me, I spoke in a sharp, tense, and elevated tone: "Steve! What is wrong with you, looking at me as if a catastrophe has struck? Answer me right now, where is my little boy?!"

He leaned his frame toward me, attempting to grasp my cold hands to steady them, speaking in a pleading, tearful voice: "Please, Julie... calm down now and don’t move. Just rest a bit and regain your strength first."

In that critical second, a mother’s intuition flared within me, whispering that something was wrong something monumental, a black tragedy he was desperately trying to shield from my consciousness, refusing to utter it.

I forced my torso up, pressing my hands against the mattress to compel my body into a sitting position despite the sharp, hacking pain that gnawed at my lower abdomen, tearing my insides apart. I said in a trembling voice packed with suspicion: "Where is Ethan? Why isn’t he lying right beside me like the rest of the babies? Why isn’t his little bassinet here in the room?! Tell me!"

Steve bowed his head downward, evading the confrontation of my gaze, his shoulders shaking as he muttered through a burning lump in his throat: "Julie... please, just listen to me slowly."

I cried out, my eyes widening in a mind-numbing panic that stole my breath: "What?! Speak without these fucking preludes!"

He averted his face entirely toward the closed window, the stuttering words breaking from his trembling lips like a thunderbolt striking my ears: "Your son... he was born dead... he never breathed."

My son was born dead? A piece of my soul, born without life?! My son, whom I waited for through all those agonizing months?!

Every muscle and vein in my body turned to stone, and my vision blurred for a few moments as if the room were collapsing over my head. But I quickly shook that cursed thought from my skull, clenching my jaw with a stubborn, hard resolve. I said in a harsh, flat tone: "Steve, do not play such a pathetic, tasteless joke on me at a time like this! Now move, and bring me my son right now!"

His eyes filled with a heavy rush of tears that cascaded over his cheeks, and he said with a faint wail and a broken voice: "Julie... I am not joking, I swear to you... the doctor told me he was born dead... I am so truly sorry, Julie, my heart is breaking for you."

I shook my head in absolute, unyielding refusal, violently kicking off the cotton blanket. I snapped, my voice bouncing off the walls of the room: "You are a liar! My son is alive and well, I can feel his heartbeat! Now bring him to me, Steve, and do not test my fucking patience!"

I lowered my weak, trembling feet off the edge of the bed, standing up onto the cold floor. Though the physical pain was ripping my insides to shreds, forcing me to bend over in broken weakness, I refused to surrender to these illusions. Steve lunged in terror, grabbing both of my arms to halt me from taking a single step, crying out in sheer panic: "Julie, have you lost your goddamn mind?! Get back to bed right now, your body is exhausted and you are completely spent!"

I shoved his hands away from my body with a strange, fierce strength a courage I had never known within myself before. I walked out the door of the room, dragging my heavy, stumbling steps through the long hospital corridor, Steve hot on my heels, desperately trying to stop me and hold me back. I turned to him with features as hard as stone, saying in a strict, unyielding voice: "Take me to where my son is right now... where did they put him?"

He replied in deep grief and sorrow, blocking my path with his broad frame to keep me from moving forward: "There is no point in seeing him now, Julie... your heart won’t be able to bear the sight, please believe me."

I locked my glassy, sharp gaze into the depths of his eyes, speaking in a quiet, cold, and terrifying tone that froze the blood: "Steve... I am not going to repeat myself. Move out of my way."

I didn’t cry, nor did a single tear drop from my eyes. I knew with absolute certainty in the depths of my soul and the folds of my mind that my son was alive and breathing, and that these stupid doctors were simply delusional and knew nothing. I said coldly as I bypassed his exhausted frame, pushing him aside: "You don’t understand a thing, Steve. My son is alive and fine... you just misunderstood the doctor’s words, as you always do."

At that critical juncture, a nurse in blue scrubs blocked my path, saying in an anxious, rattled tone: "Ma’am, please return to your bed immediately!"

I grabbed the nurse’s arm, squeezing her flesh with my fingers with a raw, violent force that made her wince, barking: "Take me to my son, Ethan, right fucking now!"

Steve looked at the nurse with completely shattered eyes overflowing with defeat, shaking his head weakly in utter helplessness: "Leave her... let her see her son and confirm it for herself. There’s no use in stopping her."

I began to walk down the long, cold corridor of the hospital, Steve guiding my exhausted steps until we reached an isolated room tucked away at the very end of the hallway. We stepped inside, and the room was so freezing that a sharp, intense shiver ran through the entirety of my body. Right in the center stood a solid, gleaming stainless steel table, and upon it lay a thick white sheet covering a tiny, minuscule form. I felt my entire body turn to stone, my breath catching in my throat.

I approached the steel table with slow, hesitant, and heavy steps, then extended my trembling hand, pulling the edge of the white shroud back with a slow, breathtaking motion.

Before me appeared a tiny face, as starkly white as pure snow... short, fine black hair, and a small, delicately detailed nose. The breath locked inside my chest, and I whispered in a warm, tender pitch: "Ethan... my beloved boy, my little baby."

I turned my head toward Steve, who was standing directly behind me, weeping bitterly, covering his pale face completely with both of his hands. I said to him, a faint, cold smile tracing my lips: "Look, you idiot... didn’t I tell you that my son is alive? Look how beautiful he is, sleeping so peacefully! Didn’t I tell you he is alive?"

He let out a choked sob, tears leaking through his fingers as he cried: "Julie... please, for the love of God, stop this madness and hold yourself together."

I didn’t listen to a single word of his nonsense. I bent my body over the table, extending my arms with supreme caution beneath his tiny, small frame, lifting him into my hands.

He was so incredibly small, as light as a feather. I brought him close to my chest, cradling him with all the strength and tenderness I possessed, then leaned down and inhaled his sweet baby scent, filling my lungs. I whispered in a quiet hum: "I am right here beside you, my beloved son. I am with you now, and no one will ever separate us... you are in your mother’s warm embrace now."

My brother called out to me again in a torn, cracked pitch: "Julie... come back to reality."

I looked down at the face of my resting son, Ethan. His eyes were shut in absolute stillness, a profound peace. I stroked his tiny, soft cheek with my index finger, saying to him with deep, overflowing affection: "Ethan... come on, champion, open your little eyes.

Look at your uncle standing right over there... do you see him? That’s your uncle Steve, who loves you so much."

Steve burst into a bitter, roaring cry, sobbing so violently that the walls of the room seemed to shake: "Julie! Stop it! You are torturing and killing yourself with this fucking denial!"

I knitted my brows in deep confusion and annoyance. Why was he saying such harsh, cruel words to me right now? How was I torturing myself when I was merely holding my precious baby boy in my arms and playing with him?

I spoke in a disapproving, blaming tone: "Steve, what is truly wrong with you? Why are you crying and wailing like a child? Aren’t you happy that Ethan has come into our world and is finally with us?"

I touched his tiny hand to lift it, only to be startled by how freezing his skin felt as cold as a block of pure ice. My features contorted, my tenderness shifting into a sudden worry: "Steve... he is so cold. This cursed room is freezing and completely unfit for babies! We must warm him up immediately... why is he naked like this without a blanket? Why didn’t they dress him in the cotton clothes that I bought for him, which are prepared inside the bag?!"

Steve took a swift step toward me, grabbing my shoulders with both hands, shaking my body in utter desperation and frustration as he screamed: "Julie! Wake the fuck up! He is dead!"

I stumbled backward to defend my baby, shielding the tiny body within my arms and pressing him tightly against my chest. I said with blatant hostility, my eyes widening: "He is not dead! You are lying! He is just alive and sleeping... get away from me and from him!"

I immediately turned toward the wooden door, exiting that freezing, desolate room while cradling him with a blind, protective fury that saw nothing but her child. The same nurse spotted me in the middle of the corridor carrying the tiny form. She gasped in absolute horror, lunging toward me, barking sharply and angrily: "Miss, what the hell are you doing?! You cannot take him out of the morgue under any circumstances! This is strictly forbidden!"

I spun toward her, my eyes widening with a consuming, wild madness, a silent fury capable of burning everything to ash. I snapped in a piercing pitch: "Who the fuck are you to interfere between me and him?! Have you lost your goddamn mind?! This is the child of my own womb! Don’t you see this medical plastic band on his wrist? My name is written on it clearly... now get out of my way before I hurt you!"

I walked with rapid, steady, and determined steps despite the dizziness and pain invading my body, clutching him tightly to my chest. I headed directly back to my previous room, placing him with extreme gentleness and supreme care upon the white bed. Steve rushed in behind me, tears completely flooding his face and blurring his features. He approached me with a bowed frame and utter brokenness, saying in a desperate, humiliated plea: "Julie, I beg of you, my dear, only sister... do not do this horrific thing to yourself and your sanity... let him go."

I averted my gaze from him with total indifference, speaking with absolute denial and complete confidence as I moved with rapid, automatic precision: "What am I doing, in your opinion? I am doing nothing bad. I am merely trying to warm my poor son up from the hospital’s cold."

I turned my entire body toward the blue canvas bag, pulling its metal zipper open with trembling but determined fingers. I pulled out the diapers and the tiny clothes made of warm wool, beginning to dress him with supreme care, caution, and extreme slowness, terrified that he would wake up and cry at any second if I pressed too hard on him.

Steve cried out again, gripping the fabric of the bed in a complete collapse, his frame violently shaking: "Julie... have mercy on me! He is deaaad, and it’s over, Julie! Understand this!"

My entire body jolted as if struck by an electric shock. I spun toward him with the full weight of my suppressed fury, screaming directly into his face at the top of my lungs with every shred of strength left in my mangled throat, my eyes flashing with a blind, hysterical madness: "Stop saying that this instant! Stop repeating this cursed nonsense in my ears! Don’t you see him with your own two eyes?! He is alive and well right in front of you... he is only sleeping because he is exhausted and spent from the grueling journey of birth! He will stand up and smile in a little while, once he has had enough sleep!"