45:  Goodbye pain

Hours passed, each one stretching into an eternity. The fluorescent lights of the waiting room buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the empty chairs and cold tile floor. Richard slumped in one of those chairs, his elbows resting on his knees, head bowed in a silent prayer to any deity that might be listening. He barely noticed when the nanny came in, her steps soft and cautious, as if she feared any sound might shatter the fragile moment. She sat quietly beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, her presence a small but steady anchor in the storm of his emotions.

He wanted to speak, to express the whirlwind of fear and hope tearing at him, but the words caught in his throat. All he could think about was Khana—his beautiful, strong Khana—alone in the delivery room, battling both her pain and the terrible uncertainty that loomed over them. And their baby, the tiny life they had created together, was caught in the middle of this cruel twist of fate. The waiting was unbearable, every second dragging like a heavy weight across his heart.

Finally, the doors to the delivery room swung open, and a doctor stepped out, his expression inscrutable behind the mask and tired eyes. Richard was on his feet in an instant, his heart hammering in his chest. He rushed toward the doctor, his voice tight with desperation.

“How is she? How’s the baby?”

The doctor, a middle-aged man with lines of fatigue etched deeply into his face, sighed and looked Richard directly in the eyes. The intensity of the moment seemed to weigh heavily on both of them. “She is not in a good condition,” the doctor began, his voice steady but somber. 

Richard felt as though the ground had opened up beneath him. He grabbed the doctor's shoulders, his voice rising in panic. “What do you mean? What’s happening to her?”

“Her heart is getting weaker.”

The doctor remained composed, but there was a sadness in his gaze that Richard couldn’t ignore. “We’re doing everything we can to stabilize her, but the stress on her heart is immense. We need you to sign a waiver, Mr. Loughran, and make a decision. You need to choose between saving your wife or the baby.”

The words hit Richard like a physical blow, knocking the air out of his lungs. He recoiled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why don’t you just save them both? You’re a doctor, right? Do your job! Save lives!”

His outburst echoed in the quiet hallway, but the doctor didn’t flinch. He simply nodded, understanding the anger and fear behind Richard’s words. “We will do everything in our power to save them both,” the doctor said, his tone gentle but firm. “But you still need to make a choice, in case we cannot. We can’t delay any longer.”

Richard felt his legs buckle beneath him, the weight of the decision too much to bear. He collapsed onto the floor, his hands trembling uncontrollably. The world around him blurred as tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks. This couldn’t be happening. Not to them. Not now. His mind raced, trying to grasp the impossible—how could he choose between the woman he loved more than life itself and the child they had dreamed of for so long?

The doctor knelt beside him, placing a pen and a piece of paper in Richard’s shaking hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice piercing through Richard’s despair. “I know this is the hardest decision you’ll ever make. But you must decide now.”

The paper felt heavy in Richard’s hands, the words blurring as his tears fell onto the page. He could barely hold the pen, his fingers numb with grief. His heart screamed in protest, but his mind knew there was no other option. If he chose their baby, he would lose Khana—his wife, his love, the woman who had stood by him through everything. 

If he chose Khana, she might never hold the child and never see their son. However, Khana already told him to choose the little one. 

He closed his eyes, choking back a sob, and forced his hand to move. With each letter he wrote, a piece of his soul seemed to tear away. The decision seared itself into his consciousness, an agony he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life. When he finally scrawled his signature at the bottom of the waiver, the pen slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

The doctor took the paper, his expression unreadable. He stood up, the weight of the moment clear in his movements, and gave Richard a brief, respectful nod before turning back toward the ICU. Richard watched him walk away, the door closing behind him with a soft click that echoed like a final judgment.

And then Richard was alone, the silence in the hallway a deafening roar in his ears. He slumped back against the wall, drawing his knees to his chest as he wept. He wept for Khana, for the life they had built together, for the future that now seemed so uncertain. 

Minutes felt like hours as he sat there, numb to the world. Their close friend came, Bettina, and Serina remained beside him, their presence a small comfort, but nothing could pierce the darkness that had settled over him. 

“Richard,” Bettina's voice was soft, but it broke through his despair like a ray of light. He looked up, his eyes red and swollen, meeting her concerned gaze.

“Whatever happens,” Serina said gently, “you did what you had to do. Khana would understand. Trust in the doctors, and believe that they will do everything they can.”

Richard nodded, though his heart was far from comforted. But he knew she was right—he had to trust the medical team, trust that they would do their best to save both Khana and the baby. It was all he had left to hold onto.

Time stretched on, each second a torment. Richard’s thoughts wandered, memories of Khana flooding his mind. He remembered their first meeting, how she had captivated him with her sharp wit and kind eyes. He remembered their wedding day, how radiant she had looked as she walked down the aisle toward him.

Now, all those dreams hung in the balance. The future he had envisioned was slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Hours passed—he wasn’t sure how many. The waiting room grew quieter as the night deepened, the sounds of the hospital fading into the background. At some point, Richard realized he was still holding Khana’s wedding ring, the small band of gold warm from his touch. He hadn’t even noticed when he had taken it from his pocket, but now it felt like a lifeline, a connection to her that he refused to let go of.

He kissed the ring, closing his eyes as he pressed it to his lips. “Please, Khana,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please come back to me. I can’t do this without you.”

The door to the ICU opened again, and Richard’s head snapped up. The same doctor stood there, his face drawn with exhaustion but his eyes holding a glimmer of hope. Richard scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest.