In the end, it is a daughter. This is not Elias.
Nor a baby they exchanged him with. These eyes are so black that they can't be from a random family. And I can feel something linking me to my daughter.
They weren't lying. It's me that failed.
«You're not him,» I realise while tears start flowing from my cheeks. «You poor little girl, don't worry. I'm here for you...»
I stretch my arms and pick up the little ball. It's light, but my muscles twitch to pain. I'm so tired, but I have to carry my baby back to my room.
Too bad that the midwife stands in front of the door and blocks the exit.
«You can't take her out!» she exclaims.
«Watch me,» I say, but my voice comes out weak. I'm not sure what to do first, whether to calm the little ball, walk out, or ask the maid to help me...
Sensing my emotions, the baby resumes crying out loud.
«No, no...» I whisper, coddling her somehow. «Do not cry!»
