Wearing sterile green scrubs and a mask that covered half his face, Hadi hurried into the operating room. The atmosphere inside was cold and tense, accompanied only by the steady, rhythmic beeping of the vital-sign monitor. Behind the green curtain separating the surgical area, Raina lay pale, IV and oxygen tubes attached to her body.
Seeing his wife looking so fragile, Hadi felt a dull ache in his chest. Without hesitation, he moved to Raina's head. Slowly, Hadi reached out and clasped her cold fingers. It was the first time in months that he had touched her like this, ever since a thick wall had formed between them. This time, Raina didn't pull her hand away. The anesthesia and overwhelming fear only made her fingers tremble inside Hadi's grasp.
Hadi lowered his head, looking into Raina's weary, tear-filled eyes. "Ina... I'm here, honey," Hadi whispered, his voice trembling hoarsely behind his mask. "You can do this. Our baby will be safe..."
Amid the roar of medical equipment and the doctors' focused work, Raina slowly turned her gaze toward her husband. Her pale lips moved faintly, voicing a fear that had suddenly risen from the deepest part of her heart.
"Honey... what if he doesn't make it?" Raina whispered, her voice choked by terror. "What if they take my baby?"
Hadi caught his breath. Tears welled in his eyes when he heard the despair in her voice. He tightened his grip around Raina's fingers and rested his forehead near their intertwined hands.
"Don't say that, Ina..." Hadi whispered hoarsely, stroking Raina's forehead with his thumb. "Fathan is strong, just like his mom. By Allah, both of you will be safe. Please hang on, Ina..."
The rhythmic beeping of the vital-sign monitor in the corner of the operating room grew faster and more ominous. The room was so cold that it pierced the skin beneath their surgical gowns. Hadi didn't let go of Raina's hand for even a second. He enclosed her ice-cold, pale fingers between both his palms. His lips never stopped murmuring prayers for the safety of his wife and son.
"The bleeding is becoming active. Prepare the suction," the operating surgeon said quickly and firmly. "Careful—the gestational age is only thirty-four weeks. His lungs aren't fully mature yet. Perinatology team, stand by."
At those words, Raina's body tensed on the operating table. The spinal anesthesia had numbed everything below her abdomen, but she could still clearly feel the dull tugging and jolting, striking deep into her heart. Overwhelming fear left Raina gasping behind her oxygen mask.
"Honey..." Raina choked out, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes and soaking the cloth covering her head. "What if he isn't strong enough? He's... he's coming out too soon, honey..."
"Ina, don't say that," Hadi cut in quickly, his voice trembling violently behind his mask. He lowered his head and brought his forehead close to Raina's temple, damp with cold sweat. "Fathan is strong. You're strong. By Allah, hang on, Ina."
At that exact moment, the doctor lifted the tiny body from Raina's womb. But no piercing cry shattered the silence. The room suddenly froze. There was only a tiny sound, like a muffled, raspy whimper. It was so soft, thin, and broken because his underdeveloped lungs had not yet filled with air properly.
The baby's body was incredibly small, his thin reddish skin looking fragile beneath the operating lights.
"Take him straight to the resuscitation table!" the pediatrician ordered, hurrying forward to receive the baby.
Hearing how faint and weak his voice was, Raina immediately panicked. Her eyes widened, her breathing turned rapid and erratic, and she tried to lift her head from the surgical bed.
"Honey? Why is his cry so quiet?" Raina sobbed hysterically, gripping Hadi's hand with all her strength. "What's wrong with my baby?! Why isn't he crying louder?!"
"Ina, stay calm, honey... The doctors are helping Fathan," Hadi stammered, his own tears falling onto Raina's blanket. Hadi's body trembled as he watched the pediatric team work quickly in the corner of the room: inserting a suction tube to clear the mucus, placing a tiny oxygen mask over their baby's face, and stimulating his back so he could breathe more easily.
After several minutes of intensive treatment that felt like hell, the baby's cries gradually became a little more regular, though they remained thin and weak, characteristic of a premature infant. The nurse wrapped the frail body in warm sterile cloth and brought him briefly to Raina's side for only a few seconds before he had to be rushed to intensive care.
When the tiny, fragile face was shown to her, Raina stared at it with her heart shattered by overwhelming emotion and aching pity. Her baby's body was so small he nearly disappeared beneath the swaddling cloth.
"Fathan..." Raina whispered, her pale lips trembling violently as her fingers barely had time to gently touch her son's warm cheek. "I'm sorry, baby. Hang on, honey... Please hang on for Mom..."
"Mrs. Raina, we need to take the baby to the NICU incubator and put him on breathing support," the nurse said in a hurried but careful tone.
The tiny baby was immediately placed in a transport incubator and pushed out of the operating room.
Raina squeezed her eyes shut. Tears streamed onto her pillow as the anesthesia began to make her drowsy and weak, leaving the medical team to finish stitching her up.
Hadi was told to go outside and quickly followed the medical staff toward the perinatology corridor. Before the corridor door closed, Hadi brought his face close to the opening in the glass incubator and recited the adhan in a choked, hoarse voice beside his son's right ear. Every sacred phrase carried a desperate prayer that the tiny baby would be given the strength to survive.
Half an hour later, Hadi walked out toward the waiting-room corridor, his surgical uniform still rumpled. His steps were unsteady, and his eyes were red and swollen. Auntie Nyai, who had been waiting all this time, immediately rose to her feet. Beside her, Ayu, who had been sitting restlessly with one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, also stood and looked at Hadi anxiously.
"How is she, honey? Is Ina safe? What about the baby?" Auntie Nyai asked hurriedly, her voice filled with worry.
Hadi let out a long, trembling breath and looked at Auntie Nyai with tear-filled eyes. "Thank God, Auntie... Ina is safe and she's in the recovery room now," Hadi answered hoarsely. "But Fathan... Fathan was born premature, and his birth weight is extremely low. He's already been placed in a NICU incubator because he needs oxygen support and close monitoring."
Auntie Nyai slowly covered her face, reciting prayers and lengthy pleas for forgiveness as tears trickled down her cheeks. Behind her, Ayu stood frozen, stroking her still-pregnant belly. Pity and emotion pierced her heart as she imagined how the fragile newborn had to struggle alone inside that glass box.