Tears.
“Doctor?” the nurse asked carefully. “Is everything okay?”
He didn’t respond.
He couldn’t.
He kept staring at the baby.
The small curve of his nose. The shape of his lips. And just beneath his left ear—a faint birthmark, like a soft crescent.
Emily struggled to sit up, panic rising instantly.
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong with my baby?”
The doctor swallowed hard. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Where is the baby’s father?”
Emily’s expression changed immediately.
“He’s not here.”
“I need his name.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice tightening. “What does that have to do with anything?”
The doctor looked at her, and there was something heavy in his gaze—something old, something painful.
“Please,” he said quietly. “Tell me his name.”
Emily hesitated for a moment.
Then she answered.
“Ethan. Ethan Brooks.”
The room went completely still.
Dr. Brooks closed his eyes, and a tear slipped down his cheek.
“Ethan Brooks…” he repeated slowly. “That’s my son.”
No one moved.
The only sound was the soft cry of the newborn—echoing in a room where two separate lives had just collided.
Emily felt the air leave her lungs.
