The sanctuary falls into a respectful silence as Anita, exhausted from labor, cradles a life that never truly began. There is a shattering stillness where a newborn’s cry should be. In a display of raw, instinctual grief, she clutches the limp infant to her chest, her eyes filled with bewildered sorrow.
She gently grooms the tiny body, refusing to let go, a testament to a bond formed long before birth. It is a scene that transcends species—pure, unadulterated heartbreak. Watching Anita’s agony reminds us that the depth of a mother’s love is universal, and so, too, is the devastation of her loss.
