Lethal Obsession

36.

"I seem to be torn between 'I wish we'd met earlier' and 'I wish we'd never met'." ― Ahmed Mostafa

"You made me hate the person I was becoming—only because you wanted me to—and for that, you will never be forgiven." ― Ahmed Mostafa

"You can love each other all you want - but you deserve to be free." ― Unknown

"Remember everything will be alright
We can meet again somewhere
Somewhere far away from here"

- Sign of the Times – Harry Styles

Chapter 36

It is strange how much we are living on the verge of death every single millisecond. At one point you're surfing the web, hoping to find the perfect crib for a baby you've been excitedly waiting for months to arrive and the very next moment you find yourself running out of energy surrounded by strangers feeling like life is slowly leaving your soul. A few seconds later a bang happens and you no longer exist. That moment is almost insignificant to the universe, but it destroys you. It destroys who you were, who you are, and who you could have become. Where do you go after that? Is there anything at all that follows the famous "after"? Heaven, hell, void? How can anyone know that? And yet, there is another question hanging in the air, perhaps seconds before the said bang: what happens to those who stay? That baby that has been waited to arrive for so long, that was carried in the mother's womb for months waiting to feel the touch of the creature that gave him life, what is going to happen to him? Who will comfort him when he cries relentlessly for the first time? Who will give him food when his little stomach craves the essence of life? Who will teach him his first step? Who will catch him when he stumbles and falls when his first attempt at walking turns out to be unsuccessful? Who will pack him books for the first day of school? Who will tell him that they are proud of him when he gets good grades? Who will scold him when he ditches school for the first time? Who will hug him and say that everything will be fine when he breaks up with his first partner? Who will watch him proudly when he finally leaves the path of childhood and enters the world of adults? Who, after the fatal bang? Who?

The neonatal intensive care unit, like every previous morning, looked rather creepy. There were many reasons for that. The walls and equipment were so bright in color that they unequivocally reminded me of the scene of going to heaven in every telenovela ever made. The fact that dozens of children fought for their lives in that same room every day didn't make the whole situation even a tiny bit positive. Babies' cries, the basic thing that should be heard at every birth, even weeks later, were almost non-existent. The only thing that ruled over those halls was a suffocating silence.

"Love, you've been doing this for days, you need to rest," a deep, masculine voice told me, followed by muscular, tattooed arms wrapping around my shoulders, drawing me to my man's firm chest.

It's already been a few days? I couldn't help but wonder about the exact interval. His sentence was broad, and vague, providing innumerous possibilities. Two, three, four, maybe five? How many exactly? How many days have passed since I lost consciousness on the cold floor when I walked out of the delivery room? How long did my ritual of motionless staring through an unbreakable window into the incubator that contained a tiny baby boy, born prematurely, last?

I shrugged, not uttering a word. I heard Mateo letting out an annoyed breath, but I was afraid I had lost my voice. It was hard for me to speak. I felt like there was a dam in my throat that was blocking the flow of air. I didn't even remember the last time I talked. How could I?

"Tara, I know you're grieving and dealing with the loss of your friend, but this is not healthy. It's been six days and you've been spending them here. You don't sleep, you barely drink water and I have to force food into your mouth. You can't act like that anymore!" he rebuked me, but there was a hint of concern in his voice.