And behind the glass… three figures stood, unmoving. Watching.
One was a tall, dark-skinned man, calm and silent, standing closest to the glass.
Beside him, an older man and woman. Their skin was the same deep shade. Nathan couldn't make out their faces clearly, but their movements were careful, as if they were holding their breath.
They weren't Mama. That much was certain.
They weren't nurses either. Their clothes were too neat.
Too full of expectation.
Nathan blinked, trying to sharpen the blurred outlines. Yet their forms remained faint, as if still belonging to a dream.
"Who are you?" he whispered inside. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
They didn't move. Only stared.
Nathan's eyes searched their faces, longing for some fragment of an answer.
Then, almost instinctively, from a chest too silent for too long, another question escaped his thoughts.
"Where's Mama?"
Again, no reply.
Not one of them opened their mouth. Not one of them raised a hand. They only stood there, still, as if gazing at something too fragile to touch.
And Nathan, from behind the glass, began to feel something he couldn't yet name.
Strange. But important.
There was something between them and him. Not blood. Perhaps not a direct bond. But something… like history. Or the past.
Or… something unfinished.
His cries burst out, uncontrollable.
"Mama! I want to see Mama! I want to hold Mama! I've never even met Mama…"
"Please… Nurse… anyone… please take me to Mama…"
But no one could hear the voice behind the sound.
All the world heard was the piercing wail of a newborn, translated into one simple need: hunger.
A nurse hurried over. Her steps light, her smile warm, yet her heart blind to Nathan's real scream.
"Oh, hungry, huh?" she murmured, cradling the tiny body in practiced arms. She held him briefly, then guided him toward the bottle.
Nathan kept crying, though his voice weakened. He knew no one would understand.
And he was tired.
The bottle was warm, its tip soft. His tiny body latched on instinctively, sucking fast. Sweet. Warm. Comforting.
But strange.
"Whose milk is this? Mama's? Or a cow's?" he thought, half sarcastic, half broken.
He wanted to refuse it. But his body was too small to resist the warmth that soothed him. And when everything else felt wrong, that sweetness was the only thing that felt right… even if it wasn't what he truly needed.
After a while, his eyelids grew heavy. His belly felt full, but his heart still starved.
"Mama… are you okay? I'm here, Mama. I'll wait for you, alright? When you wake up, I'll hold you…"
He wanted to say more. But his eyelids sank lower, halfway closed.
The nurse laid him back down, tucking a little blanket over his chest.
And in the silence that swallowed him once again, Nathan drifted into drowsiness.
Still alone. Still unsure of who the three people behind the glass were. Still not knowing whether Mama remained in this world or not.
All he knew was this,
he had only just been born.
The box moved again.
This time not into a silent hallway. Not into a room full of humming machines.
The nurse's steps were slower now. More careful. As though something sacred lay ahead.
Nathan blinked. His eyes were starting to adjust to the light. The world was no longer as blurry as last night. Everything was clearer now… more real.
And at the far end of the room,
stood a man, dark-skinned, his curly hair slightly unkempt, a thick mustache making his face look stern yet almost comical.
Nathan gave a tiny smile.
"That man looks funny… like a cartoon character…"
But the smile faded the moment the man bowed his head, gazed at him for a long while, and spoke in a trembling voice:
"Nathan…"
The voice was like the first drop of rain, dry, aching, and full of longing.
"This is Papa, son."
Nathan froze.
Papa?
Before he could even ask, two older figures stepped closer. A man and a woman, their faces lined by years, yet their eyes still warm, and just as dark as the man's.
Nathan studied them.
The man… he looked like an older version of this "Papa."
The woman… tears hovered, unfallen, at the corner of her eyes.
The man spoke again, softer this time.
"This is Oma and Opa…"
Nathan looked at each of them in turn, memorizing their faces.
"Okay… Papa. Oma. Opa. You're my family? But why… why don't I feel like I've ever had you?"
Then he asked, quietly, with a trembling edge to his thought:
"Where's Mama?"
There was no answer.
Papa bit his lip, bowing his head deeper. Oma wiped at her eyes. Opa let out a heavy sigh.
It was as if they all heard his question,
but not one of them could bring themselves to speak.
Nathan wanted to cry. But no tears remained.
He could only stare at the funny-faced man, Papa, and whisper inside his tiny heart:
"If Papa is here… then why do I still feel so alone?"
The nurse lifted Nathan gently, then placed him into the arms of the old woman, Oma.
Her arms trembled slightly as she received him, but her embrace was warm. Warmer than the glass box. Yet still… not as warm as Mama.
Nathan squirmed inside the blanket, his tiny body restless, his head trying to turn in every direction.
"Wait! Where's Mama? I haven't even seen Mama yet! I haven't said, 'Hi, Ma!' or 'Thank you for bringing me into this world!'"
But no one could hear him.
Opa opened the car door. Papa secured the car seat. Oma placed Nathan down carefully, tucking the blanket around him once more. Her face was tender, but her eyes were red.
The car began to move.
Nathan kept struggling inside his heart.
"Where's Mama?! Why am I being taken away?! I don't want to be far from Mama!"
But inside the car… there was only silence. No radio. No words. Only the soft friction of the road beneath the wheels. Papa's heavy breathing, caught and swallowed again and again. And a faint sound of sobbing, Oma, turning her face to the window, wiping tears away in secret.
Nathan wanted to scream. But his body was too weak. What came out was only a thin cry… a baby's cry.
A cry that, once again, no one truly understood.
And that silence lingered in the air, sharper and heavier than any answer could ever be.
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