I stare at them with wide eyes.
Then it hits me.
Not once… have I shed a tear since my birth.
They must be worried — thinking something is wrong with me.
I take a breath, then slowly let out a fake wail, flailing my tiny limbs with just enough effort to make it convincing.
Immediately, a wave of relief washes over their faces. The doctor exhales. My mother smiles softly, visibly relaxing. My father's tense face loosens slightly.
They bought it.
The nurse gently wraps me in the soft white cotton blanket I'd been lying on and lifts me into her arms. I'm carried down a short corridor, then into a quieter space — a smaller room with warmer lighting and the faint scent of herbal oils in the air.
A nursing room, probably.
After a few minutes, I pretend to fall asleep.
The nurse lingers, watching me for a while. Then, satisfied, she quietly slips out of the room.
The moment I hear the door shut, I crack one eye open.
Silence.
Good.
I open both eyes now, cautiously, and begin scanning my surroundings.
I'm lying in a wooden cradle, nestled into the left corner of the room.
The cradle is old but sturdy.
Just beside the cradle is a window — or rather, a gap in the wall, covered by wooden latticework. Through the small slats, light filters in softly, and I can just make out the shapes of trees swaying gently outside. The world beyond is hazy, green, and bright.
'So this is the world I've been reborn into…'
I twist my body, attempting to free my arms from the swaddling.
No luck, the blanket is wrapped tight.
I let out a frustrated sigh through my nose, then squint toward the window again, trying to absorb every detail I can.
Somewhere out there…
My new life waits.