Chapter 289: A Mother's Strength

Chapter 289: A Mother's Strength

Outside the hospital room, Chase followed Jerry almost the instant he stepped out. He knew Jerry wasn't really going to handle paperwork—this man had been carrying all the weight on his shoulders and was already on the verge of breaking down. Jerry walked quickly through the corridor, pushed open the inpatient department door, and went straight to a weathered utility pole in the courtyard, where he stopped.

Jerry suddenly clenched his fist and slammed it hard against the pole. A dull thud—his knuckles instantly turned red and swollen, but he seemed to feel no pain, hitting it again and again. The heavy thuds echoed particularly jarring in the empty courtyard. Chase stood at a distance, not approaching to interrupt, just watching quietly. He knew that right now, any words of comfort would be meaningless—Jerry needed to let it out.

After several punches, Jerry's strength seemed drained. He slowly slid down along the pole to sit on the ground, hands on his knees, gasping for breath. His usual composure and capability were completely gone, leaving only undisguised vulnerability.

He kept his head down, shoulders trembling slightly. At first it was just suppressed sobbing, but gradually the sobs grew louder, turning into heart-wrenching cries.

Chase walked over and crouched beside him, saying nothing. He just pulled out a cigarette pack from his pocket, took out a cigarette and offered it. Jerry didn't take it, still buried his head and cried, tears mixing with the dust on his face, looking utterly wretched.

"When we were kids, I used to chase after you and Andrew. I've never seen you like this."

Chase's voice was low, carrying a hint of barely noticeable emotion. He put away the cigarette and stuck his hands in his pockets:

"I know you're struggling. On one side is your wife who just gave birth, on the other is your sick child, and you have to keep it all hidden. If Andrew were here, he'd be with you too."

Jerry looked up, his eyes bloodshot and red, tears still on his face, his voice hoarse beyond recognition:

"What should I do? Andrew's already overwhelmed with his own problems, I can't bother him. I don't dare tell my wife either, I'm afraid she'll break down. The child just came into this world and has to suffer like this, and I, as a father, am completely helpless..." As he spoke, he covered his face again, his shoulders shaking violently as the suppressed pain broke through his defenses once more.

Chase patted his back, the gesture somewhat stiff but carrying genuine comfort. He wasn't good at soft words, especially facing someone like Jerry who was usually so strong, so he could only accompany him in the most clumsy way.

"For the genetic tracing, I can help you contact an overseas team I know. Maybe they can find something."

Chase paused, then continued:

"From what I understand, this disease appears much more frequently when parents are closely related."

Jerry gradually stopped crying. He sniffled and wiped the tears from his face forcefully. His eyes still showed exhaustion but now also held a trace of confusion:

"Thank you, Chase. But what do you mean by closely related?"

He slowly stood up, leaning against the pole, looking at the inpatient building windows where his wife and child were—his reason for holding on. Chase also stood up and brushed the dust off him:

"No need to thank me, that's just my guess. For Andrew's sake, and for the child's sake, I won't ignore this. Go back now, don't let her get suspicious. I'll get you news about the genetics as soon as possible."

Jerry nodded, rubbed his red eyes, took a deep breath, trying hard to adjust his emotions, attempting to temporarily hide that breakdown and pain, put on a gentle appearance again, and walked toward the inpatient building. But his slightly hunched figure still revealed the heaviness in his heart.

When he pushed open the hospital room door, Jerry's heart was still hanging in mid-air, afraid Alice would notice something wrong. But the scene before his eyes made him freeze—Alice was leaning against the headboard, Zoey was handing her warm water, and though she still looked tired, the melancholy in her eyes had mostly faded, even carrying a trace of gentle warmth. Seeing the two enter, Alice looked up, and when her gaze fell on Jerry, there was no questioning, only calm tenderness.

"Did you finish the paperwork?"

Alice asked softly, her voice clearer than before. Jerry's throat moved as he suppressed the surging bitterness in his heart and nodded:

"Yes, it's all taken care of. How are you feeling?"

He deliberately avoided the topic of the child, afraid he couldn't hold back his emotions.

But Alice shook her head, a faint smile forming at the corners of her mouth, her tone carrying some hope:

"I'm okay. Honey, I want to give the child a name. How about Zephyr? I hope he can grow up safe and sound, with hope."

"Zephyr..."

Jerry repeated the name in a low voice, his eyes instantly heating up again. The name was like a fine needle, gently piercing through the defenses he had forcibly built, the bitterness in his heart spreading through his veins to his limbs.

Looking at the pure hope in Alice's eyes, thinking of what the doctor said about the prognosis for Type I spinal muscular atrophy, thinking of the pain Zephyr would have to endure in the future, the emotions he had just calmed down were on the verge of collapse again. He turned his head away, his fingers gripping the corner of his clothes tightly, barely suppressing the choke in his throat, and replied hoarsely:

"Okay, let's call him Zephyr. That sounds beautiful."

He thought his disguise was good enough, but it didn't escape Alice's eyes. Alice signaled Zoey to leave first. When only the two of them remained in the room, she gently patted the empty space beside her, asking Jerry to sit down. Jerry hesitated, then slowly bent down to sit, not daring to meet her gaze.

"I know about the child's condition."

Alice's voice was soft, but it made Jerry's whole body stiffen:

"Alice, I..."

"Don't worry, and don't blame yourself."

Alice reached out and gently touched his reddened eyes:

"From when the prenatal genetic test showed abnormalities, I had a feeling. These past days you couldn't eat or sleep, I was even more certain. I just didn't want to bring it up, afraid it would make things harder for you. Just now Zoey told me too, it's Type I, I know everything."

Jerry's tears finally couldn't be held back and fell. He held Alice's hand, his voice choking:

"I'm sorry, Alice. I didn't dare tell you, I was afraid you couldn't handle it; I didn't even dare think about what if we can't keep Zephyr..."

"Silly."

Alice interrupted him, her tone calm but full of strength:

"This child came into this world, we should walk with him. I know this disease is hard to treat, and I know we might face countless treatments in the future, and might even have to accept the worst outcome. But so what? We're his parents, we can't lose heart just because the road ahead is difficult."

She paused, raised her hand to wipe the tears from Jerry's face, her gaze particularly clear:

"I'm not that fragile. Zephyr came with hope, and as parents, we need to give him enough courage and support, not sit here feeling sorry for ourselves."

Jerry stared at Alice in a daze. There was no resentment on her face, only love for the child and acceptance of the future. Compared to his breakdown in the courtyard just now, Alice's strength was like a beam of light, piercing through the darkness in his heart. He hugged Alice tightly, burying his face in her shoulder:

"Alice, thank you."

Jerry's voice was muffled:

"We'll be with Zephyr together, no matter how hard it is, we won't give up."

Alice gently patted his back, like comforting a wronged child, and replied softly: "Together. Everything will get better."