Page 85 of Shattered Echoes

The world seems to tilt on its axis; the ground shifting beneath my feet. Labor. Of course, the thought should have been at the forefront of my mind, but in my single-minded focus on reuniting with Colette, I had pushed aside the reality of her impending due date.

"Where is she?" I demand, my voice thick with fear, excitement, disbelief. "I need to be with her."

"They've already taken her to the hospital," he says. "I just returned here to pick up a few things. I’m headed back there now, sir. I could take you there if you don’t mind."

I nod, jogging back towards the rental parked on the road. The old manservant is in the passenger seat before I peel away from the curb, leaving the pungent smell of burning tires and exhaust fumes in my wake.

My mind races, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling in a dizzying vortex. This is it, the moment I've been both expecting and dreading for months.

The ride to the hospital is a blur, the scenery outside the tinted windows reduced to little more than a smear of colors and shapes. The man beside me attempts to fill the silence with reassuring words, but his voice is little more than a distant murmur, drowned out by the pounding of my heart.

We pull up to the hospital's entrance, and I barrel through the automatic doors, my eyes scanning the sterile lobby for any sign, any sign of where Colette might be. A nurse at the front desk regards me with a mix of surprise and concern, her brows knitting together as I approach.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asks, her tone polite but guarded.

"I’m looking for someone," I say. "Someone brought her in not too long ago. She's in labor. I need to be with her."

She nods. “Sure thing. She types a few keystrokes, her fingers flying over the keyboard in front of her. “What’s her name?”

"Colette," I reply, the name feeling like a prayer on my lips. "Colette Moreau."

“Are you family?” she asks, her eyes still on the screen.

I glance at the manservant beside me, then back to the nurse, blinking. “I… No. I’m not family, but we are…close. I need to be with her, please.”

The nurse's expression softens, but she shakes her head. “I know her, and she’s fine, sir. Unfortunately, only the family can see her right now. Doctor’s orders.”

I think about Colette, preparing to have our baby, all alone. She’s the mother of my child. Doesn’t that make me more family than anyone else?

“Antonio! Thank God you made it just in time.”

I turn towards the familiar voice and the sound of urgently approaching footsteps. Henry is hurrying towards me with an anxious look on his face.

“Is everything alright? How’s Colette?” The forgotten knot in my stomach reminds me of its presence with a tight, painful squeeze.

“She’s fine,” he replies, giving me a hug. Turning to the nurse, he says, “It’s alright, he’s family.”

“Can I see her?” I ask impatiently, looking past Henry towards the hallway he just burst out from.

“Sure thing. She’s been admitted to the maternity ward, room 314, on the third floor. Right this way,” Henry says, pivoting on his heel and striding towards the hallway. I fall into step beside Henry, his presence both steadying and refreshing.

The elevator ride seems to crawl up to the third floor. Finally, the doors slide open with a soft chime, revealing a bustling corridor lined with doors and the occasional cluster of chairs.

Room 314. I count the numbers as we move down the hallway, my heart pounding harder with each step. At last, we reach the designated door, and I pause, grabbing Henry by the arm, startling him.

A sudden surge of doubt sweeps over me. What if I'm not ready for this? What if I fail, as a husband, as a father? My past mistakes are reminding me of how much I have fucked up.

But then, I hear it — a soft, pained groan, Colette's voice. In that moment, everything else falls away, the doubts and fears scattered like leaves in the wind. All that matters is the woman on the other side of that door — the woman I love, the mother of my child, my single purpose. Henry grips my shoulder and nods at me in silent encouragement.

Drawing a fortifying breath, I turn the knob and push the door open.

29

Colette

The room grows hazy, the edges of my vision blurring as another contraction seizes me, a white-hot wave of agony that steals the breath from my lungs. I grit my teeth, fighting against the urge to cry out, to surrender to the overwhelming onslaught of pain that lashes at my body.

"You're doing great, Colette," the nurse says. "Just breathe through it, like we practiced."

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