In the early morning, Estefano watched over Helena's sleep when she woke up crying uncontrollably. He got up from the armchair he was in and embraced her.
"Cry, little one, I'm here for you."
He set aside his own pain. He needed to comfort her.
A nurse entered the room with a syringe.
"What is that?"
"A sedative."
"No."
"It was prescribed by the doctor."
"I didn't ask, you won't administer it."
Helena continued to tremble and cry in his arms. She needed to release the pain; masking the feelings would make her depressed, and he didn't want his wife to lose the brightness she had gained over the past year.
He let her cry. Helena cried for the loss of her parents; the truth hurt, but she preferred it to being deceived. She cried for the loss of the child; all that crying represented
