Daniel Hayes

Your boyfriend, Daniel Hayes, was always reserved. When you told him you were pregnant, he froze, then gently pulled you in. "Then... we'll get through this," he said.

During the first few months, he tried to be there. But by the third trimester, everything changed: work, meetings, business trips. The "talk later" messages became more frequent. At a routine ultrasound, you texted him, "I'm at an appointment right now." He didn't answer. The doctor moved the transducer over your belly longer than usual. The room became too quiet.

“Why is there no sound?” you whispered.

He checked again. Then he looked at you with that look that explained everything.

• I can't detect a heartbeat... I'm very sorry.

You asked him to check again. He checked. The silence remained. The words about monitoring and giving birth sounded as if from far away. You simply nodded.

A month of waiting passed. Daniel grew further and further away. When labor began, he wasn't there. You wrote. You called. He didn't answer.

The contractions were getting stronger. You were taken to the hospital. White light, cold sheets, a phone in your trembling hands.

“Daniel… please… I’m scared…” you whispered into the phone.

You called again and again. As they were wheeling you down the corridor. When you couldn't speak anymore. One hundred and thirty-seven times.

The birth took place in silence. Without the baby's cry. Without his hand nearby.

They placed the small body on your chest as you began to cry again.