The room smelled of sweat, herbs, and candle wax. Lydia lay on the bed, her body soaked in pain. The midwife was by her side, wiping her face with a cloth and urging her to push. Beside her sat Irina, holding her hand so tightly it almost hurt, whispering into her ear.
"It's going to be alright, my child. It's going to be alright. Just a little more."
But Lydia could not feel hope. She could only feel the sharp tearing pain inside her body and the sharper pain inside her heart. Ivan was not there. His absence was louder than the thunder outside. Every time the pain came in waves, she thought she would die.
She wished she could close her eyes and wake up somewhere else. Maybe this was just a nightmare, and maybe she would open her eyes to find Ivan by her side, holding her hand, kissing her forehead, telling her not to be afraid. But no matter how hard she prayed, the pain was too real.
