Two Worlds, Two Lives

CHAPTER 3: Paint Brush II

As the dawning light faded, dark night descended. The wind was cool, and thunder rumbled in the distance. The Walterson family said their prayers before dinner, the clinking of cutlery echoing loudly in the wind.

"I think it's going to rain," Martin said, his eyes fixed on the window.

"Yeah, I think so too," Sarah replied, getting up to get some water. "I'll go get us some water to drink."

As she strode past her husband, he smacked her butt, making her giggle. "Seriously?" she said, laughing.

When she got to the kitchen, the wild wind hit her face unexpectedly. She turned her face to grip the counter, her pregnant belly swaying precariously. She locked the window and went to get water from the refrigerator, but as she reached for the cups, her water broke without warning. The wine she had bought to celebrate Martin's promotion slipped from her hands, shattering on the floor.

Martin rushed into the kitchen, his face etched with concern. "Sarah, oh no! Are you okay?"

Sarah was already in labor, her face contorted in pain. Martin supported her into the car, the rain pounding against the roof. "You're strong, baby," he whispered, his voice trembling. "We're going to get through this together. Hang on, okay?"

The car halted in the middle of the road, the engine sputtering. Martin got out to check, his clothes drenched in seconds. The car had a flat tire, and it would take him precious time to fix it. He rushed back to Sarah, holding her hands tight. "My love, I'll be back. I'll go get you help. Just hold on tight for me, please", with that he fled out of the car to find help.

Martin ran to the sidewalk, bus stop and to every small kiosk shop but he found no one. Standing in the rain, confusion filled him, he panicked at the thoughts of losing his wife. His gaze shifted to a dark alley that flickered light across the road, but what was strange, was that he has never seen the alley before in the years he has lived in the neighborhood. He ran into the alley where the light flickered and found an old woman with wrinkled with a mix of gray and black short hair seated under a pavilion tent as shelter, he told her his situation and she offered to help.

A few minutes later, Martin returned with an old woman, her face kind and gentle. "This is... Syrian," Martin said, introducing her. "She's an ex-nurse. She'll help you give birth in the car, and then we'll get to the hospital."

Sarah nodded weakly, her eyes fluttering closed. The old woman, Syrian, quickly took charge, guiding Martin to sit beside Sarah. "You need to stay with her, keep her awake," Syrian said firmly.

As the contractions intensified, Sarah's screams filled the car. Syrian's calm voice was a steady presence, guiding her through the pain. Finally, the cry of a baby filled the air, and Martin's face lit up with joy.

The rest of the night was a blur of happiness and relief. Martin held Sarah close, tears streaming down his face as he gazed at their newborn child. Syrian smiled, her eyes shining with warmth, as she wrapped the baby in a blanket. "You did it, Sarah," she said softly. "You're a mother."