Nora pushed the doctor’s hand aside with her forearm and placed the newborn onto a folded sheet.
The entire room fell silent as if time itself had stopped moving.
“What do you think you are doing?” the neonatologist shouted angrily.
She did not look at him and kept her eyes fixed on the baby’s chest.
She studied the dull skin tone and the stiffness that others had already accepted as final.
But Nora had spent years preparing for a moment like this without ever knowing it would come.
She was not a doctor and she was not a nurse, and she had no official role that allowed her to act.
All she had was a memory and a guilt that never allowed her to rest.
“I need a dry towel right now,” she said with unexpected firmness.
“Get her out of here immediately,” another nurse shouted.
“No one touches her,” Jonathan shouted from the floor, his voice breaking but powerful.
The room froze again as everyone hesitated.
The powerful businessman no longer looked like a figure of authority.
He looked like a desperate father holding onto the last fragile thread of hope.
Nora grabbed ice from the bucket and wrapped it quickly inside the sheet.
She began cooling the baby’s head and neck with careful precision.