chapter one hundred and seventy.

Exiting the elevator anxiously, the doctors finally allowed me to see Emily. She was in a coma; everyone said they were still trying to figure out what had gone wrong. The pregnancy was risky, but she had never neglected herself, and she was perfectly healthy for a normal delivery.

"This way, sir," the nurse guided me to the room.

My heart squeezed as I saw my wife lying there, feeling like the most useless being on earth. I couldn't do anything to help; she was lying there, full of machines. How did this happen? We were so happy, so confident. What killed me the most were her last words, as if she were saying goodbye. Without Emily, I don't want this life; I don't want to have children; I wouldn't even know how to deal with them.

"Hey," I sit beside her. "I know you can hear me; please don't leave me here alone."

No reaction was visible. Her face could hardly be seen because of the machines helping with her breathing. The fear I felt could almost exude from me.

I fixed my eyes on her