The maternity ward that day was overcrowded. Doctors were running from one room to another. The doctor had just finished a difficult surgery and was about to catch his breath for at least a minute when a new call came in: a patient at a late term, complicated labor, an experienced doctor urgently needed.
He put on a fresh coat, washed his hands, and walked confidently into the delivery unit. But the very second he entered, his heart dropped. On the bed in front of him lay her.
The woman he had once loved more than life. The one who held his hand for seven years and swore she would always be by his side — and then disappeared without explanation. Now she was lying there, covered in sweat, her face twisted in pain, clutching her phone in a trembling hand. Their eyes met.
— You?.. — she whispered with difficulty. — You’re my doctor?
The man clenched his teeth, nodded, and without saying a word, rolled the bed toward the operating room.
The labor was difficult. Her blood pressure was dropping, the baby’s heartbeat was slowing. He gave orders, directed the team, stayed calm — although inside he felt himself being torn apart.
Only one thought was pounding in his head: “Why her? Why now?”
Forty torturous minutes passed. Finally, the first cry of the newborn echoed through the room. Everyone exhaled with relief. The doctor carefully took the baby into his hands — but in the very next second he turned pale from what he saw
Continuation in the first comment
The baby’s tiny fist opened… revealing a small, dark birthmark on the wrist.
A birthmark the doctor knew better than his own reflection.
Because he had the same one.
His vision blurred. The room spun.
He felt the ground pull from beneath his feet as a truth he never expected slammed into him like ice:
This was his child.
But before he could speak, nurses rushed to stabilize the mother. She was fading fast — her heartbeat slowing, her breath shallow.
— “Stay with us!” the doctor shouted, but his voice cracked.
Not as a doctor — but as a man realizing he might lose the mother of his child before he even had a chance to understand what happened.
As they worked, she lifted her trembling hand, pointing at him weakly.
— “I… I wanted to tell you…” she whispered through tears.
— “They… they threatened me. Said if I didn’t leave you, they’d destroy your career. I had to disappear. I had to protect you… and our baby…”
His chest tightened. Every muscle in his body locked in place.
He had spent years hating her for leaving.
And now, as she fought for her life, he finally learned the truth.
Her eyes began to close.
— “No… no, stay with me. Stay with us,” he whispered, gripping her hand.
But her pulse dropped. Machines beeped frantically.
Doctors pushed him aside, but he didn’t move.
He felt the warmth of her hand slipping away — slowly, painfully — as if the universe was punishing him for every moment he spent not knowing.
Then, with the last of her strength, she struggled to speak:
— “If I don’t make it… promise me you’ll protect him…”
Her gaze shifted to the baby in the nurse’s arms.
Tears he had held back for years spilled freely.
— “Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be okay.”
His voice trembled.
— “I’m here now. I won’t lose either of you again.”
The monitor beeped.
Her hand went limp.
The room froze.
And in that second — holding his newborn son, staring at her motionless body — he realized…
This was the moment that would change his life forever.
But then—
One faint beep.
Then another.
Her pulse.
She wasn’t gone. Not yet.
And for the first time in years, he prayed.
