Mimi's cries pierce the quiet halls, and I feel a pang of helplessness sharper than any blade. She's so tiny, her face scrunched up in distress, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. Her wails echo around me, and I'm acutely aware of just how lost I am.
"Shhh, little girl. I don't know what to do, okay? I'm trying," I say softly, my voice cracking under the weight of my inadequacy. Her little fists flail, and I shift her in my arms, trying to offer some kind of comfort.
I glance around, hoping for someone—anyone—to appear and save me from this. Noelle's been doing this alone for months. Months. He's the one who's carried her through every sleepless night, every tear, every moment of uncertainty.
And now, not even an hour in, I'm here, panicked, looking for help like some coward. I swallow hard, determination bubbling up inside me. I'm not going to be that guy. I can't be that guy.