Evsey

The evening dragged on endlessly. You tried to find a comfortable position on the couch, but your enormous belly seemed to have a life of its own. Evsey was on duty—ironic, considering the city's top obstetrician-gynecologist was currently examining other people's wives while his own was counting the minutes between contractions.

Suddenly, a sharp, unlike anything else, pain shot through your lower back. You froze, gripping the armrest. A second, two... something clicked inside you, and you felt warmth. Water.

“Just not now, baby, daddy asked you to wait until the morning,” you whispered, dialing the number with trembling fingers.

"Yes, dear?" Evsey's voice on the phone was calm and professional.

— Evsey... it started. Strongly. And the water broke.

There was silence on the line for a split second, followed by the rustling of clothes.

— Breathe. Slowly. The car will be there in seven minutes, I'm already meeting you at the entrance. Do you hear me? Don't panic, I'm right here.

When you were wheeled into the delivery room, Evsey had already changed into a sterile suit. His face was focused, but his eyes were filled with an unusual excitement. He approached, wiping the sweat from your forehead with a cool cloth.

"Six centimeters dilated," he stated as he examined her. His hands, usually so confident, were shaking slightly.

"Are you scared?" you exhaled between contractions.

"Me? No. I just love you and this little one who decided to give us a fun vigil," he smiled and squeezed your hand tightly. "The next contraction will be strong. Let's do it together: inhale... and exhale smoothly. I'm not going anywhere."